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tampered2007-04-10 11:59 pm
6thsword.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-04-10 11:59 pm
LOG; complete
When; April 10, late at night (after 10 PM-ish)
Rating; R
Characters; Grimmjow [![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
6thsword] & Alfons [opfern]
Summary; In celebration of Alfons' eighteenth birthday, Grimmjow kidnaps him and takes him into the more... curious sections of the Underground.
Log;
Grimmjow waited a little while after the nightlife roused before leaving his apartment. He left through the windowsill, preferring traveling through the air instead of walking down with the mortals on the streets. He let a sonido take him across the City towards Alfons' apartment, silent as an owl. He didn't want to draw unneeded attention to himself what with the tension so high in the City.
He made his way to Building 2, flitting around the wall until he found a bedroom window with a familiar blond within. Grinning toothily, Grimmjow pried the window open with little effort and let himself inside. Alfons' bed rested conveniently against the wall under said window, and the arrancar flopped down onto the boy to wake him.
"Rise and shine, kid," he said none-too-quietly.
The sudden thump on his bed startled Alfons out of the light doze he'd finally managed to accomplish after hours of restless coughing. He had finally managed to sleep, now what the hell was waking him up?! Noah wouldn't be so careless... Had Edward come by for a surprise visit?
With a grumble, Alfons reached up to rub at his eyes as he sat up. "Edward, not--" And then the voice clicked.
Looking up, he let out a strangled yell and jerked away, just about falling onto the floor in a tangle with the sheets. "What are you doing here! The--the window is not a door, Grimmjow!"
Knowing the human wasn't strong enough to fight him, the Espada merely grinned and grabbed Alfons by the arm. "C'mon! It's your fucking birthday, you need to get out and experience life properly, instead of spendin' it around those damn books."
He quite literally hoisted the boy onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, then ducked out of the room through the window again. "Hold on tight, Alfons, or I might just drop ya!" He shot off into the blackness, zooming past quiet lights and carousel song. The ground blurred beneath them.
Noah had told him that napping in his clothes wasn't healthy, but apparently just this once it kept him from being in a very awkward situation. Being dragged outside in nightwear would not have been his idea of a good time.
Not that this was, either. "Wait!" Oh God, he was going to be sick. This was even worse than flying with Cirucci. And what happened if Noah checked on him and found him gone?! She would think he was kidnapped again!
Which was sort of the case, but not the dangerous sort.
Shutting his eyes, the young man gripped tightly to Grimmjow, though he did have to add, "I'm not wearing shoes!"
"Screw shoes!" the arrancar yelled over his shoulder to make himself heard over the howl of the wind. "The place we're going, you'll wish you hadn't brought clothes at all!"
Snickering to himself, Grimmjow abruptly dropped altitude, and they flash-stepped through the subway. If Grimmjow kept his pace, he wouldn't need the train, so with a bit of maneuvering he made his way into the heart of the Underground. They were immediately immersed in the neon glow of restaurants and bars and less polite things, and the arrancar landed easily in front of on particular establishment. He dropped Alfons onto the ground in front of him.
"Here we are. Happy fucking birthday!"
By the time he was finally set down onto his feet, he just wanted to find a decent trash can and be ill, but Alfons was too stricken by the neon sign he saw when he finally looked up.
Face drained of color, he even forgot how cold the ground was and coughed into his hand, quickly turning back to face the Arrancar. "Grimmjow! You can't be serious! Take me back home! If Noah finds out I'm missing, she's going to be worried!"
Another feral grin. "Nope. I told you we were celebratin' tonight." He pulled Alfons to his feet and pushed the boy--no, the man now, as he was eighteen--towards the entrance of one of many female strip clubs, but the best one according to Grimmjow. "Consider this a... christening, of sorts."
He found himself having to pull the boy towards the club, forcing him through the door and into, in Alfons' case, a completely new territory. Still with that wicked expression on his face, the Espada urged him onwards. "Pick a spot and sit down. I'll get us some drinks."
"But-- Wait--!" There was no winning this. And even if Alfons managed to escape from Grimmjow, he couldn't just go running around in his condition in the Underground. He was bound to cut his feet or run into much worse trouble.
So, mildly defeated for now, Alfons trudged further into the establishment, though he made a point of keeping his eyes trained on the ground. Given the option of picking out their seat, he located a booth as far away from the stage as possible, practically curling up once he sat down.
This...was a nightmare.
Leaning up against the bar at the back of the club, Grimmjow watched the human choose the most ridiculous seat. So far away from the action? That would not do.
"A beer is fine," the arrancar told offhandedly to the bartender. "Make it two." Two bottles appeared at his elbow shortly afterward, and with them in hand he made his way to the booth where Alfons sat. Grimmjow placed one bottle on the table in front of him.
"Go on, drink. This night is supposed to be fuckin' special, so don't mope around like you're an eight-year-old who lost his goddamn bike."
Beer, beer, did it have to be beer? That beverage was forever ruined for him and it was all Edward's fault.
With a grimace, and fear of getting smacked if he didn't, Alfons leaned forward to grab the bottle, muttering a soft, "Thanks."
Finally, he relaxed a bit, comfortable that this seat was far enough away from the stage so that he could look up without being...blinded, so to speak. "I appreciate the thought Grimmjow, but these places really...are not my kind of thing. A simple bar could have worked if you just wanted to drink?"
Grimmjow made an amused noise around the lip of his beer bottle. "The drink's like an appetizer," he remarked, not bothering to take a seat. "For a kid like you, it's gonna be difficult to get you down to that stage with you in your right mind. So drink up or I'll fucking make you."
He was quite sure the boy would be thanking him later. After all, what better "rite of passage" and "birthday party" combination could there be? It was a lot better than staying home and reading.
Alfons blanched at the threat and quickly lifted the bottle to take a long drink. He wasn't too worried, really.. Beer was something he was used to. He was used to draft, and this 'modern' stuff didn't taste quite as good, but it was all right enough for him to finish the bottle in minutes.
Hoping that would shut Grimmjow up, he slammed the bottle down and shoved it away. "There! Trying to get me drunk won't work, though. It'll take a lot of beer, and it's not going to make me go and watch women strip naked. Honestly..."
He didn't even understand why women would degrade themselves with such a job, especially when they couldn't have been making much money in a place like the City. Currency was as good as dirt here.
"Not bad, not bad," Grimmjow acknowledged at the rapidity of Alfons' drinking. Maybe he should take the human down to the Underground more often, and with Di Roy too, he mused. Just to see how the kid kept up with them.
"So that's how you roll, huh?" Twisting to look back at the bartender, he hollered nonchalantly, "Vodka. Two." He took up the drinks, paid, and put both down in front of Alfons. "Like I said, kid--appetizer. Just to loosen you up. Right now you look like a guy who's never fucked a girl before."
He downed the rest of his beer, moving towards the stage. "You better be followin' me, Alfons," he remarked over his shoulder.
Alfons resisted the urge to gawk at Grimmjow's words. Then his cheeks burned, and he grabbed the shot, though really he would have preferred to leave it behind. Hard liquor... It was dangerous stuff. The smell was enough to make him gag.
Feeling incredibly out of place, what with his bare feet and rather proper clothing, though it was a bit wrinkled considering he'd been napping wearing it. He heard some man snicker and make a joke that just wasn't quiet enough about his suspenders, and Alfons tried not to look injured as he picked up the pace to stick closer to Grimmjow's side.
"Some people aren't as promiscuous as you and Cirucci, you know," he muttered under his breath as he stared down at his shot glass, nose wrinkling a bit.
Well, maybe if he let himself get drunk, he wouldn't even notice that half naked women pole dancing.
The Espada simply shrugged as he took a seat, not too close to the stage but close enough so Alfons could really appreciate the exhibit, either. "Sit," he commanded the boy, gesturing vaguely.
Of course, they weren't going to simply watch from a distance. Grimmjow had been to this particular place several times before, so he was quite... familiar with a few of the employees. He was sure he could get one or two to do him--or his human companion--a bit of a favor.
Out of the corner of his eye, Grimmjow watched Alfons' expression for any change.
He sat like ordered, and his bare feet shifted beneath the chair as he glanced shyly up to the stage. Oh God, her top was completely off. How could she dance like that in public?!
Too embarrassed to look any longer, he quickly looked back down to the vodka shot, and steeled himself before grabbing it and knocking it back. It tasted like he might as well have just enjoyed some paint thinner, and it burned and made him drop the glass, coughing heavily into his sleeve.
Tears stung at his eyes as he tried to recover from the awful taste. How could people drink that?!
"Feelin' all right there, Alfons?" he asked with the least bit of concern, thumping the boy on the back for good measure.
He gestured with his other hand to one of the girls on the stage, the one Alfons had spied in his brave peek upwards. She was a regular, young, with rich brown hair. Definitely someone of Alfons' type, he guessed wildly. "Hey sweetheart, you think you could give my friend a hand? Seems like he ain't feeling so hot right now."
"I'm fine!" he croaked out weakly, rather horrified at Grimmjow's invitation, and he was quick to shake his head at the girl, pleading with his eyes for her to ignore him.
But she was used to the shy ones. They were all about, and it was common for them to get dragged in, and a lap dance always calmed them down...or made them more excited, depending on how you looked at it. She didn't seem to mind sliding off the stage to sway over to their table, where she was quick to swing a leg over and effectively straddle Alfons in his chair.
"No touching," she cooed out while wagging a finger, and Alfons very much wanted to die right then, of how embarrassing this was, and immediately he trained his eyes on the ceiling. If he just went to the happy place, this would all be over soon.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Alfons muttered under his breath, cheeks bright red, and she seemed to pout when he wouldn't even look.
Now, this was no fun, especially since it was getting to the interesting part? Snorting derisively, Grimmjow reached over and grabbed a handful of Alfons' hair from where he sat. "C'mon, Alfons, it ain't so bad." He forced the boy's head to tilt a little, forced his eyes to focus on the dancer. "Or will I have to get you some more vodka?"
Though, of course, it would be a lot more fun if Alfons was less drunk and more willing. Oh well. Some other time, he supposed.
Alfons winced and looked forward, now getting an eyeful of bare cleavage. His feet scraped against the ground as he tried to flatten back inside his chair. How was this celebratory?! Now, if Edward had been doing this...
...that very line of thought made him grin like an idiot, and the stripper seemed pleased by this reaction as she moved, hands ghosting over her own skin as her hips mimicked the bumping and grinding of a certain very lewd act.
He could feel the light buzz now hitting him from the damned vodka, and Alfons relaxed a bit, but his cheeks still burned, and there was no way he could just sit silently during this, and he was quick to look back up to her face. "That's a nice smell. Is that your shampoo?"
"...Yes."
At least he was getting her talking, even if she was giving him a wary look. "What scent?"
"Sweet pea."
"Oh! I should have guessed that. I bet my friend would like that. I should get her some."
Grimmjow nearly choked on his own spit at the conversation. He let go of Alfons and stood to get himself another drink. As he made his way to the bar, he glanced back to see how his blond companion was faring.
"That the first time this kid's been here?" the bartender asked as he handed Grimmjow another beer.
"Yeah, it's fucking obvious," the arrancar retorted. He took a swig. "Oi, is Apple here?"
A nod. "I can get her."
"She's for the kid. His eighteenth and all that shit." Grimmjow grinned wickedly for perhaps the sixth time that night, then wandered back to where Alfons sat, entranced, by the dancer. The Espada hit him lightly on the back of the head upon hearing their topic of discussion, then settled down in a nearby chair.
"Hey Alfons," he raised his bottle at the boy, "there's a treat for you on her way over."
Alfons just about deflated from relief when the brunette finally crawled off of him, and she made a point of lingering near Grimmjow. After dancing for a kid who had little to no interest in her figure, she was expecting a mighty decent tip.
The young man reached out to snag Grimmjow's sleeve desperately. "You left me alone! Don't do that again! I don't want a treat. This was a great present! Can it be done now?"
He would have insisted on leaving even more had a small coughing fit not taken over then.
Grimmjow pulled his arm away from Alfons' grip, which quickly gave anyway as the coughing fit took over. A slight smirk played across the arrancar's lips as Apple moved fluidly from the crowd to stand behind Alfons, and without waiting to see what would happen, he turned to the first dancer. "Charming night, ain't it?" he said casually to her.
Meanwhile, as Alfons' fit subsided, the... well, dancer wasn't quite the word for it--she moved around to his front, sat herself on his lap, and allowed herself to explore his mouth with hers. Surely that would keep the boy's attention to nothing but the woman before him, and though occupied with the brunette in his own lap, Grimmjow couldn't help but look over to see how the human was doing. He nearly burst out laughing at the deep shade of red of the boy's face.
After a long moment, Apple released Alfons and pulled him to his feet. Without keeping her eyes of his, she moved backward into the crowd, tugging on his hand all the while. If she had her way, there'd be no reason to hide in one of the several rooms attached to the main hall, but the manager wouldn't have it.
Grimmjow's smirk widened as the two disappeared.
The kiss had him so shocked that all he could do was sit there, completely brain dead until she finally moved again to tug him towards the crowd. Where was she heading? What was she..?
Oh.
The door hadn't even had a chance to close before he realized what the hell was going on, and Alfons was just not drunk enough to fall for this, and he couldn't even think up an excuse to give her, so he simply turned and fled, nearly knocking people over in his hurry to escape.
He didn't stop until he was outside the building, and once there, he dropped to his knees, coughing wetly into his hands. Disgusting, disgusting! There was no way! He wanted to be warm in bed right now, preferably with an Edward Elric, but by himself also wouldn't have been too terribly bad.
Better than THIS.
Upon seeing Alfons dash past and outside, Grimmjow shrugged the girl off him and tossed her some money he'd picked off from the guy across the room. "See you some other time, chick," he told her as he strolled out, straightening his jacket. A pity they had to leave so soon. Oh well, he supposed it was a good thing Cirucci was visiting him later.
Grimmjow stood beside Alfons' kneeling form and laughed lightly. "Happy fucking birthday," he said for the second time that night, beaming as if he had no idea how much Alfons despised him at the moment. Then, as an afterthought: "You really are a girl."
When the fit subsided, Alfons staggered up and spun around to glower at Grimmjow, swinging his fist without thinking of the probable consequences.
The contact HURT, and he had to wonder what Grimmjow's skin was made of, but even if his knuckles stung, it had still been satisfying. At least he hadn't punched the other side of his face. "And you're an idiot! What makes you think I wanted a prostitute?! That's not my idea of a good time! If I felt like doing something like that, I wouldn't go to some strange woman!"
The punch landed and Grimmjow didn't even flinch. How typical of a human. "I got my kicks," he replied nonchalantly, "and you get a taste of fucking life. Besides," he added as he began to move down the street towards the subway, "I don't think you'd enjoy a male strip club much." He stopped and twisted around to face Alfons. "Or would you?"
The mere idea appalled him, but hey, it wasn't unheard of, even in the ranks of arrancar.
Alfons' cheeks burned at that inquiry as he rubbed at his sore knuckles, and by now his feet felt numb as he trudged weakly after Grimmjow. "I'm not interested in any strip club, or prostitutes, or any of that! I have someone...sort of...and that's good enough for me. Just because my style of living doesn't suit you doesn't mean that it's not living."
Really, it was more like dying than living, technically, but it was...good enough for him. "I'm surprised Cirucci hadn't told you, considering you found out about my birthday."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Grimmjow wasn't at all interested in Alfons' sex life. As he'd said, he'd taken the boy out for his own amusement and not in real celebration at all. It didn't matter in the long run. "You ready to fly again?"
He didn't wait for a response, though. He grabbed Alfons by the waist and tossed him over his shoulder again, shooting up with a sonido. He took the same way up through the subway as he had taken coming down, and before long they were in the open sky of the City proper. Grimmjow lingered in one spot for a bit, then zipped his way down back to Alfon's window. He dropped the boy through the opening and onto the bed.
"See you around, kid," he said with his typical wolf grin. "Sweet dreams and all that shit."
Alfons wanted to hug his bed when he was finally dumped back on it, but that would have required moving, and while he was still sprawled out on his back, he knew that moving right then would have resulted in him losing his dinner.
So instead he just offered a weak scowl, though it was half-hearted. He would never admit that he was touched that Grimmjow had taken the time to 'celebrate' with him at all. "Grimmjow! You are going to get a very small slice when I make that strawberry shortcake. And use the door next time!"
"Just keep sayin' that," the arrancar laughed in response. "If you ever wanna head down there again, let me know, I'm game."
But enough of the banter. Grimmjow needed to get back to his apartment, wanted to, because unlike Alfons, he'd found that the dancers had done a very good job indeed. And he wanted to see exactly how well Cirucci's tongue had healed.
With another flash of fangs, he kicked off the wall and flash-stepped into the sky.
Rating; R
Characters; Grimmjow [
6thsword] & Alfons [opfern]Summary; In celebration of Alfons' eighteenth birthday, Grimmjow kidnaps him and takes him into the more... curious sections of the Underground.
Log;
Grimmjow waited a little while after the nightlife roused before leaving his apartment. He left through the windowsill, preferring traveling through the air instead of walking down with the mortals on the streets. He let a sonido take him across the City towards Alfons' apartment, silent as an owl. He didn't want to draw unneeded attention to himself what with the tension so high in the City.
He made his way to Building 2, flitting around the wall until he found a bedroom window with a familiar blond within. Grinning toothily, Grimmjow pried the window open with little effort and let himself inside. Alfons' bed rested conveniently against the wall under said window, and the arrancar flopped down onto the boy to wake him.
"Rise and shine, kid," he said none-too-quietly.
The sudden thump on his bed startled Alfons out of the light doze he'd finally managed to accomplish after hours of restless coughing. He had finally managed to sleep, now what the hell was waking him up?! Noah wouldn't be so careless... Had Edward come by for a surprise visit?
With a grumble, Alfons reached up to rub at his eyes as he sat up. "Edward, not--" And then the voice clicked.
Looking up, he let out a strangled yell and jerked away, just about falling onto the floor in a tangle with the sheets. "What are you doing here! The--the window is not a door, Grimmjow!"
Knowing the human wasn't strong enough to fight him, the Espada merely grinned and grabbed Alfons by the arm. "C'mon! It's your fucking birthday, you need to get out and experience life properly, instead of spendin' it around those damn books."
He quite literally hoisted the boy onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, then ducked out of the room through the window again. "Hold on tight, Alfons, or I might just drop ya!" He shot off into the blackness, zooming past quiet lights and carousel song. The ground blurred beneath them.
Noah had told him that napping in his clothes wasn't healthy, but apparently just this once it kept him from being in a very awkward situation. Being dragged outside in nightwear would not have been his idea of a good time.
Not that this was, either. "Wait!" Oh God, he was going to be sick. This was even worse than flying with Cirucci. And what happened if Noah checked on him and found him gone?! She would think he was kidnapped again!
Which was sort of the case, but not the dangerous sort.
Shutting his eyes, the young man gripped tightly to Grimmjow, though he did have to add, "I'm not wearing shoes!"
"Screw shoes!" the arrancar yelled over his shoulder to make himself heard over the howl of the wind. "The place we're going, you'll wish you hadn't brought clothes at all!"
Snickering to himself, Grimmjow abruptly dropped altitude, and they flash-stepped through the subway. If Grimmjow kept his pace, he wouldn't need the train, so with a bit of maneuvering he made his way into the heart of the Underground. They were immediately immersed in the neon glow of restaurants and bars and less polite things, and the arrancar landed easily in front of on particular establishment. He dropped Alfons onto the ground in front of him.
"Here we are. Happy fucking birthday!"
By the time he was finally set down onto his feet, he just wanted to find a decent trash can and be ill, but Alfons was too stricken by the neon sign he saw when he finally looked up.
Face drained of color, he even forgot how cold the ground was and coughed into his hand, quickly turning back to face the Arrancar. "Grimmjow! You can't be serious! Take me back home! If Noah finds out I'm missing, she's going to be worried!"
Another feral grin. "Nope. I told you we were celebratin' tonight." He pulled Alfons to his feet and pushed the boy--no, the man now, as he was eighteen--towards the entrance of one of many female strip clubs, but the best one according to Grimmjow. "Consider this a... christening, of sorts."
He found himself having to pull the boy towards the club, forcing him through the door and into, in Alfons' case, a completely new territory. Still with that wicked expression on his face, the Espada urged him onwards. "Pick a spot and sit down. I'll get us some drinks."
"But-- Wait--!" There was no winning this. And even if Alfons managed to escape from Grimmjow, he couldn't just go running around in his condition in the Underground. He was bound to cut his feet or run into much worse trouble.
So, mildly defeated for now, Alfons trudged further into the establishment, though he made a point of keeping his eyes trained on the ground. Given the option of picking out their seat, he located a booth as far away from the stage as possible, practically curling up once he sat down.
This...was a nightmare.
Leaning up against the bar at the back of the club, Grimmjow watched the human choose the most ridiculous seat. So far away from the action? That would not do.
"A beer is fine," the arrancar told offhandedly to the bartender. "Make it two." Two bottles appeared at his elbow shortly afterward, and with them in hand he made his way to the booth where Alfons sat. Grimmjow placed one bottle on the table in front of him.
"Go on, drink. This night is supposed to be fuckin' special, so don't mope around like you're an eight-year-old who lost his goddamn bike."
Beer, beer, did it have to be beer? That beverage was forever ruined for him and it was all Edward's fault.
With a grimace, and fear of getting smacked if he didn't, Alfons leaned forward to grab the bottle, muttering a soft, "Thanks."
Finally, he relaxed a bit, comfortable that this seat was far enough away from the stage so that he could look up without being...blinded, so to speak. "I appreciate the thought Grimmjow, but these places really...are not my kind of thing. A simple bar could have worked if you just wanted to drink?"
Grimmjow made an amused noise around the lip of his beer bottle. "The drink's like an appetizer," he remarked, not bothering to take a seat. "For a kid like you, it's gonna be difficult to get you down to that stage with you in your right mind. So drink up or I'll fucking make you."
He was quite sure the boy would be thanking him later. After all, what better "rite of passage" and "birthday party" combination could there be? It was a lot better than staying home and reading.
Alfons blanched at the threat and quickly lifted the bottle to take a long drink. He wasn't too worried, really.. Beer was something he was used to. He was used to draft, and this 'modern' stuff didn't taste quite as good, but it was all right enough for him to finish the bottle in minutes.
Hoping that would shut Grimmjow up, he slammed the bottle down and shoved it away. "There! Trying to get me drunk won't work, though. It'll take a lot of beer, and it's not going to make me go and watch women strip naked. Honestly..."
He didn't even understand why women would degrade themselves with such a job, especially when they couldn't have been making much money in a place like the City. Currency was as good as dirt here.
"Not bad, not bad," Grimmjow acknowledged at the rapidity of Alfons' drinking. Maybe he should take the human down to the Underground more often, and with Di Roy too, he mused. Just to see how the kid kept up with them.
"So that's how you roll, huh?" Twisting to look back at the bartender, he hollered nonchalantly, "Vodka. Two." He took up the drinks, paid, and put both down in front of Alfons. "Like I said, kid--appetizer. Just to loosen you up. Right now you look like a guy who's never fucked a girl before."
He downed the rest of his beer, moving towards the stage. "You better be followin' me, Alfons," he remarked over his shoulder.
Alfons resisted the urge to gawk at Grimmjow's words. Then his cheeks burned, and he grabbed the shot, though really he would have preferred to leave it behind. Hard liquor... It was dangerous stuff. The smell was enough to make him gag.
Feeling incredibly out of place, what with his bare feet and rather proper clothing, though it was a bit wrinkled considering he'd been napping wearing it. He heard some man snicker and make a joke that just wasn't quiet enough about his suspenders, and Alfons tried not to look injured as he picked up the pace to stick closer to Grimmjow's side.
"Some people aren't as promiscuous as you and Cirucci, you know," he muttered under his breath as he stared down at his shot glass, nose wrinkling a bit.
Well, maybe if he let himself get drunk, he wouldn't even notice that half naked women pole dancing.
The Espada simply shrugged as he took a seat, not too close to the stage but close enough so Alfons could really appreciate the exhibit, either. "Sit," he commanded the boy, gesturing vaguely.
Of course, they weren't going to simply watch from a distance. Grimmjow had been to this particular place several times before, so he was quite... familiar with a few of the employees. He was sure he could get one or two to do him--or his human companion--a bit of a favor.
Out of the corner of his eye, Grimmjow watched Alfons' expression for any change.
He sat like ordered, and his bare feet shifted beneath the chair as he glanced shyly up to the stage. Oh God, her top was completely off. How could she dance like that in public?!
Too embarrassed to look any longer, he quickly looked back down to the vodka shot, and steeled himself before grabbing it and knocking it back. It tasted like he might as well have just enjoyed some paint thinner, and it burned and made him drop the glass, coughing heavily into his sleeve.
Tears stung at his eyes as he tried to recover from the awful taste. How could people drink that?!
"Feelin' all right there, Alfons?" he asked with the least bit of concern, thumping the boy on the back for good measure.
He gestured with his other hand to one of the girls on the stage, the one Alfons had spied in his brave peek upwards. She was a regular, young, with rich brown hair. Definitely someone of Alfons' type, he guessed wildly. "Hey sweetheart, you think you could give my friend a hand? Seems like he ain't feeling so hot right now."
"I'm fine!" he croaked out weakly, rather horrified at Grimmjow's invitation, and he was quick to shake his head at the girl, pleading with his eyes for her to ignore him.
But she was used to the shy ones. They were all about, and it was common for them to get dragged in, and a lap dance always calmed them down...or made them more excited, depending on how you looked at it. She didn't seem to mind sliding off the stage to sway over to their table, where she was quick to swing a leg over and effectively straddle Alfons in his chair.
"No touching," she cooed out while wagging a finger, and Alfons very much wanted to die right then, of how embarrassing this was, and immediately he trained his eyes on the ceiling. If he just went to the happy place, this would all be over soon.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Alfons muttered under his breath, cheeks bright red, and she seemed to pout when he wouldn't even look.
Now, this was no fun, especially since it was getting to the interesting part? Snorting derisively, Grimmjow reached over and grabbed a handful of Alfons' hair from where he sat. "C'mon, Alfons, it ain't so bad." He forced the boy's head to tilt a little, forced his eyes to focus on the dancer. "Or will I have to get you some more vodka?"
Though, of course, it would be a lot more fun if Alfons was less drunk and more willing. Oh well. Some other time, he supposed.
Alfons winced and looked forward, now getting an eyeful of bare cleavage. His feet scraped against the ground as he tried to flatten back inside his chair. How was this celebratory?! Now, if Edward had been doing this...
...that very line of thought made him grin like an idiot, and the stripper seemed pleased by this reaction as she moved, hands ghosting over her own skin as her hips mimicked the bumping and grinding of a certain very lewd act.
He could feel the light buzz now hitting him from the damned vodka, and Alfons relaxed a bit, but his cheeks still burned, and there was no way he could just sit silently during this, and he was quick to look back up to her face. "That's a nice smell. Is that your shampoo?"
"...Yes."
At least he was getting her talking, even if she was giving him a wary look. "What scent?"
"Sweet pea."
"Oh! I should have guessed that. I bet my friend would like that. I should get her some."
Grimmjow nearly choked on his own spit at the conversation. He let go of Alfons and stood to get himself another drink. As he made his way to the bar, he glanced back to see how his blond companion was faring.
"That the first time this kid's been here?" the bartender asked as he handed Grimmjow another beer.
"Yeah, it's fucking obvious," the arrancar retorted. He took a swig. "Oi, is Apple here?"
A nod. "I can get her."
"She's for the kid. His eighteenth and all that shit." Grimmjow grinned wickedly for perhaps the sixth time that night, then wandered back to where Alfons sat, entranced, by the dancer. The Espada hit him lightly on the back of the head upon hearing their topic of discussion, then settled down in a nearby chair.
"Hey Alfons," he raised his bottle at the boy, "there's a treat for you on her way over."
Alfons just about deflated from relief when the brunette finally crawled off of him, and she made a point of lingering near Grimmjow. After dancing for a kid who had little to no interest in her figure, she was expecting a mighty decent tip.
The young man reached out to snag Grimmjow's sleeve desperately. "You left me alone! Don't do that again! I don't want a treat. This was a great present! Can it be done now?"
He would have insisted on leaving even more had a small coughing fit not taken over then.
Grimmjow pulled his arm away from Alfons' grip, which quickly gave anyway as the coughing fit took over. A slight smirk played across the arrancar's lips as Apple moved fluidly from the crowd to stand behind Alfons, and without waiting to see what would happen, he turned to the first dancer. "Charming night, ain't it?" he said casually to her.
Meanwhile, as Alfons' fit subsided, the... well, dancer wasn't quite the word for it--she moved around to his front, sat herself on his lap, and allowed herself to explore his mouth with hers. Surely that would keep the boy's attention to nothing but the woman before him, and though occupied with the brunette in his own lap, Grimmjow couldn't help but look over to see how the human was doing. He nearly burst out laughing at the deep shade of red of the boy's face.
After a long moment, Apple released Alfons and pulled him to his feet. Without keeping her eyes of his, she moved backward into the crowd, tugging on his hand all the while. If she had her way, there'd be no reason to hide in one of the several rooms attached to the main hall, but the manager wouldn't have it.
Grimmjow's smirk widened as the two disappeared.
The kiss had him so shocked that all he could do was sit there, completely brain dead until she finally moved again to tug him towards the crowd. Where was she heading? What was she..?
Oh.
The door hadn't even had a chance to close before he realized what the hell was going on, and Alfons was just not drunk enough to fall for this, and he couldn't even think up an excuse to give her, so he simply turned and fled, nearly knocking people over in his hurry to escape.
He didn't stop until he was outside the building, and once there, he dropped to his knees, coughing wetly into his hands. Disgusting, disgusting! There was no way! He wanted to be warm in bed right now, preferably with an Edward Elric, but by himself also wouldn't have been too terribly bad.
Better than THIS.
Upon seeing Alfons dash past and outside, Grimmjow shrugged the girl off him and tossed her some money he'd picked off from the guy across the room. "See you some other time, chick," he told her as he strolled out, straightening his jacket. A pity they had to leave so soon. Oh well, he supposed it was a good thing Cirucci was visiting him later.
Grimmjow stood beside Alfons' kneeling form and laughed lightly. "Happy fucking birthday," he said for the second time that night, beaming as if he had no idea how much Alfons despised him at the moment. Then, as an afterthought: "You really are a girl."
When the fit subsided, Alfons staggered up and spun around to glower at Grimmjow, swinging his fist without thinking of the probable consequences.
The contact HURT, and he had to wonder what Grimmjow's skin was made of, but even if his knuckles stung, it had still been satisfying. At least he hadn't punched the other side of his face. "And you're an idiot! What makes you think I wanted a prostitute?! That's not my idea of a good time! If I felt like doing something like that, I wouldn't go to some strange woman!"
The punch landed and Grimmjow didn't even flinch. How typical of a human. "I got my kicks," he replied nonchalantly, "and you get a taste of fucking life. Besides," he added as he began to move down the street towards the subway, "I don't think you'd enjoy a male strip club much." He stopped and twisted around to face Alfons. "Or would you?"
The mere idea appalled him, but hey, it wasn't unheard of, even in the ranks of arrancar.
Alfons' cheeks burned at that inquiry as he rubbed at his sore knuckles, and by now his feet felt numb as he trudged weakly after Grimmjow. "I'm not interested in any strip club, or prostitutes, or any of that! I have someone...sort of...and that's good enough for me. Just because my style of living doesn't suit you doesn't mean that it's not living."
Really, it was more like dying than living, technically, but it was...good enough for him. "I'm surprised Cirucci hadn't told you, considering you found out about my birthday."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Grimmjow wasn't at all interested in Alfons' sex life. As he'd said, he'd taken the boy out for his own amusement and not in real celebration at all. It didn't matter in the long run. "You ready to fly again?"
He didn't wait for a response, though. He grabbed Alfons by the waist and tossed him over his shoulder again, shooting up with a sonido. He took the same way up through the subway as he had taken coming down, and before long they were in the open sky of the City proper. Grimmjow lingered in one spot for a bit, then zipped his way down back to Alfon's window. He dropped the boy through the opening and onto the bed.
"See you around, kid," he said with his typical wolf grin. "Sweet dreams and all that shit."
Alfons wanted to hug his bed when he was finally dumped back on it, but that would have required moving, and while he was still sprawled out on his back, he knew that moving right then would have resulted in him losing his dinner.
So instead he just offered a weak scowl, though it was half-hearted. He would never admit that he was touched that Grimmjow had taken the time to 'celebrate' with him at all. "Grimmjow! You are going to get a very small slice when I make that strawberry shortcake. And use the door next time!"
"Just keep sayin' that," the arrancar laughed in response. "If you ever wanna head down there again, let me know, I'm game."
But enough of the banter. Grimmjow needed to get back to his apartment, wanted to, because unlike Alfons, he'd found that the dancers had done a very good job indeed. And he wanted to see exactly how well Cirucci's tongue had healed.
With another flash of fangs, he kicked off the wall and flash-stepped into the sky.