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Ichigo was never a particularly good ice skater.
He wasn’t bad, and hadn’t fallen in a long time, but he certainly wasn’t going to win any medals at the Olympics any time soon. The basics, he had down pat. He could glide along the ice with relative ease, forwards or backwards, even do a little spin if he wanted to get fancy.
Well, fancy in a relative sense, he thinks, watching as Yuzu glides by him with one leg lifted up behind her effortlessly.
If his eye twitches, well, Karin is too busy cheering at her twin to notice.
He didn’t know when it became family tradition to come to the local ice rink every December, but here they are, year after year. They usually arrive in the late morning to warm up in the large outdoor rink a bit before the Zamboni comes to sweep the arena, where they’ll then get lunch at the nearby shop. After they stuff their faces, it’s back out on the clean rink until the sun starts to go down, early as it does in the winter time. Then, the drive back home is only fifteen minutes, where they’ll settle into the living room couches and watch too many movies and drink too much hot chocolate. Isshin in particular will try to use half the bag of mini-marshmallows in just one cup, and really, he’s thankful Yuzu knows how to keep their father in check.
He doesn’t remember a time when they didn’t do this, even in his hazy memories of the time before the twins were born. One memory in particular, where his mother is holding him up on the ice on one side, his father on the other, he holds very dear, even now into his twenties.
At that moment, Ichigo is brought out of his musing by Karin zipping by him backwards, sticking her tongue out at their father as he uselessly tries to catch up with his daughter. Yuzu spins by them, giggling as she goes.
“Don’t break a hip, goat-face!” he calls, laughing at the dismayed expression on his dad’s face.
“All my children, how could they be so cruel to me?!” Isshin wails, doubling his efforts to catch up to Karin and only narrowly avoiding falling on his face.
Ichigo laughs into his glove, happy to leave father-torture to his baby sisters for the day and just relax as pushes himself around the ice. The rink is fairly empty today, not too many wanting to bear the bitter winds gusting about this morning, but that’s just fine with him.
Well, it was just fine, until he notices a very obnoxious mop of blue hair leaning over the edge of the railing. Ichigo blinks in surprise, but makes his way over regardless, though in no hurry.
He knows a set of sharp blue eyes are watching him come over anyway.
It’s not unusual for Grimmjow to pop up unannounced outside of their sparring schedule now, having gotten more comfortable coming to the living world over the years. Usually, he wants just that, to spar, but not always. Sometimes, he comes home from class to find Grimmjow passed out in his bed, or lounging on the couch downstairs like he owns it watching awful action movies and cartoons of all things. Even more, most of the time he’s in a gigai, a habit he picked up after Yuzu seemingly complained one too many times about not knowing what the ‘blob in the living room’ really looked like.
This seems to be one of those ‘not always’ times, Ichigo thinks, noticing the lack of mask on his cheek and the heavy black coat that definitely wasn’t part of his normal getup. It actually looked rather expensive, he thinks as he gets close enough to see the details; lapels lined with glossy fake fur and shoulders perfectly tailored to fit Grimmjow’s obnoxious tall frame, gold patterned buttons undone. Somehow though, it still works for him, handsome and rugged while still firmly saying to passerby’s ‘fuck off’, if Ichigo’s being honest with himself.
He rids himself of the thought as he slides to a stop in front of the arrancar, same with the fleeting notice of how nice the teal markings under his eyes go with the coat.
“Hey,” he says, like the mature adult he is, and not at all the sixteen year old he suddenly feels like. God, he hopes he isn’t blushing over a coat.
He gets a grunt in reply, for what it’s worth.
“What are you doing here? We’re not supposed to spar until Thursday.” Whether or not he (not so) carefully finagled his way into making sure today didn’t overlap with Thursday is his business and definitely not anyone else’s—Karin stop laughing.
“Like I only come here for you, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow grumbles, but he really does, and they both know it, so Ichigo just waits and raises an eyebrow at him.
It works, even though he gets a lip curl and a half-hearted snarl in return. Ichigo doesn’t bother hiding his grin; outside of a battle, a patient man Grimmjow is not.
“You weren’t home,” the arrancar finally admits, though he frowns like it pains him, “and neither were the brats, even though all of you don’t have any of that school stuff or whatever today.”
Ichigo pretends he doesn’t find it cute that Grimmjow has the Kurosaki family’s schedule memorized.
“So you decided to come here? Of all places?”
Grimmjow looks at him like he’s very stupid but doesn’t know how to tell him that. Ichigo doesn’t find it in himself to be offended as he tries not to laugh.
“Your reiatsu is a little hard to miss, Shinigami.”
“Fair enough,” he chuckles, leaning on the plastic railing beside Grimmjow.
“‘The hell are you doing, anyway?” Grimmjow asks, looking very cat-like as he leans over to give him a once-over. “Are those knives on your feet, Kurosaki? You trainin’ without me?”
It’s not quite a pout on Grimmjow’s face, no, but very very close to one. Ichigo prides himself on ignoring it.
“No, Grimmjow, I’m not training without you. These are ice skates. We come here every year to go ice skating; it’s fun.”
Grimmjow stares at him. “‘The fuck are ice skates?”
Ichigo rolls his eyes in a way that is definitely not fond, and pushes away from the railing. “Meet me over by the gate; I’ll show you.”
Grimmjow squints as he starts to skate away, but Ichigo tracks the blue shock of hair until it stops by the gate.
“C’mon, let’s get you some ice skates,” he says, pushing himself through the gate. He walks them over to the rental booth, thankful he long ago mastered walking on normal ground in skates. “What size shoe are you?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know?”
Ichigo narrows his eyes as he passes the clerk money for a rental pair. “You’re wearing shoes right now and you don’t know what size they are?”
“Fuckin’ Urahara buys this shit, why would I know?” Ichigo blinks at that, because suddenly a lot of Grimmjow’s fashion makes sense, but that doesn’t help with the problem at hand.
“Whatever, just take one of your shoes off and check the inside; the size is usually printed there.”
“I’m not taking off my shoe, Kurosaki.”
Ichigo groans, and points at the poor clerk watching them. Kid looks about fifteen and definitely doesn’t get paid enough to watch them argue over Grimmjow’s shoe.
“He needs to know what size it is so he can give you skates that fit, and you gotta take them off anyway.”
“Still not taking off my shoe,” Grimmjow declares, arms crossed and all.
“Fine, I’ll take it off myself you big baby,” he decides, already kneeling down.
“Like hell you will!”
Ichigo thanks almost four years of sparring against this man for the way he leans back to avoid getting kicked.
“Betcha he’s just chicken,” Karin suddenly taunts, leaning over the side of the railing behind them with a wicked grin. Behind her, Yuzu skates by with a wave and a cheerful greeting, Isshin in tow. “What’s the matter Grimmjow, scared you’re gonna fall on the ice?”
A flash of indignant rage passes over the arrancar’s face, and Ichigo knows they’ve won.
“I ain’t fuckin’ scared, you brat!” he yells, already yanking his right shoe off and thrusting it at the poor clerk. Ichigo makes a mental note to leave him a big tip later as he bumps his fist with his sister.
“Shoulda thought of that,” he mutters to her, and she shrugs back, patting his arm in mock sympathy.
“You would’ve gotten there eventually.”
Ichigo glares at his sister and pretends that he’s not offended.
Grimmjow stalks up to them a minute later, holding a pair of skates in his hand.
“Now what, Kurosaki?”
Ichigo nods to one of the benches, and Karin slides back onto the rink, already yelling at their father.
“Put those on and come over here, I’ll show you. Make sure the laces are tight.” Grimmjow grunts his affirmation, sitting down on a bench with an unfair amount of grace for him to use in his gigai.
He watches as Grimmjow stands, still as he gets used to the balance, then takes a few careful steps over to where Ichigo is standing.
“This feels weird, Kurosaki,” he grumbles, to which Ichigo smiles.
“You get used to it, and we’ll take it slow, don’t worry.” Grimmjow doesn’t look like he particularly believes him, but waits for Ichigo to step back onto the ice nonetheless.
“The ice hasn’t been cleared yet, so there’s plenty of grooves for you to find your footing in. We’ll stay close to the wall at first, and you can lean on me if you need to,” he promises, watching carefully as Grimmjow takes his first step out.
And promptly slips, crashing into the nearby wall and clinging onto the edge wide-eyed. Ichigo suppresses the urge to laugh and slides over next to him.
“I thought cats were supposed to have good balance?” he teases, earning a withering look.
“Shut the hell up, Kurosaki.”
Rolling his eyes, Ichigo waits until Grimmjow seems to get his feet back under him.
“Okay, first, relax your legs and bend your knees a bit, it’ll help. Just hold onto the wall at first and take little steps. See the spikes on the front of the blade?” Grimmjow nods, but his knuckles are white on the edge of the plastic. “You can plant those in the ice if you need to stop, but not too hard or you’ll fall over. Okay?”
“Doesn’t sound too bad,” Grimmjow mutters, slowly doing as he’s told. Ichigo slowly skates beside him, ready to catch if he needs to.
“You’re doing great, Grimmjow-san!” Yuzu calls as she skates by, smiling brightly as she spins. Karin follows a few seconds later, backwards, with her thumbs up in encouragement.
Grimmjow blinks at them, then at Ichigo, looking determined.
“What next?”
He smiles, walking Grimmjow through how to get away from the wall. He shows Grimmjow how to push his feet so he can glide, careful of the people around him, then how to do a ski-stop. Turning himself backwards, Ichigo carefully holds out his arms palms up.
“Hold onto me if you need to, alright?”
Grimmjow glares at him and mutters about not needing to be babied, but steps away from the wall.
He stumbles a bit, arms windmilling a few times before latching onto his. The grip on his arms is tight, and Grimmjow’s eyes are wide, but he’s able to steady them before they can topple over, digging one of his toe picks into the ice.
“Kurosaki,” Grimmjow grinds out through his teeth.
“Yeah?”
“If you let me fall, I’m gonna stab you,” Grimmjow snarls, “in the dick.”
Ichigo rolls his eyes, remembering the same threat being issued if Ichigo beat him at Smash Brothers Brawl one more time, but nods. “I won’t let you fall, Grimmjow; I got you.”
The arrancar looks at him, squinting, then seems to steel himself as he straightens his posture.
They’re barely a meter away from the wall, so Ichigo slowly pulls them a bit further away. Soon enough, he has them going in a slow loop around the ring, Grimmjow relaxing little by little.
It takes a few more swears and possible bruises to Ichigo’s arm, but by the time they announce the ring closing so the Zamboni can come out, Grimmjow is at his side, only clutching to his left arm as they glide around the ice. His movements aren’t perfect yet, a little stilted and harsh, but he can move on his own without tumbling.
“This doesn’t take very long, we can come back out when they’re done,” he assures when Grimmjow looks a little disappointed. “We usually get lunch while we wait; you’re welcome to join us.”
Grimmjow shrugs. “Got nothin’ else to do.”
. . .
Ichigo should have known better, honestly.
As soon as they reached the restaurant, Grimmjow slunk into the corner of their booth, draping one arm over the back of the area next to him, leaving Ichigo to stare at the spot he was definitely expected to sit in. There’s a glint in his eye as he raises an eyebrow at him, making a challenge out everything and nothing.
He must stand there staring a second too long, because Karin jabs him harshly in the ribs before sliding in next to Yuzu on the other side of the booth.
Putting his years of being around Yoruichi to good use, Ichigo forces down a blush and sits down, glaring at his grinning sister even when Grimmjow’s arm settles down more onto his shoulder than the booth cushions.
The arrancar’s arm stays there during their meal, and at least he can distract himself from whatever the hell it means by making fun of Isshin and his dumb jokes about pizza.
He probably should find it strange, how easy Grimmjow fits into his family’s dynamic, how comfortable and normal it feels, but after all this time, it just seems… normal. Like he was always supposed to be there. Sure, there are days where he stares up at his ceiling wondering if this is a good idea, if Grimmjow really is trustworthy around his sisters after everything—
But then he watches the arrancar growl in mild annoyance as Karin takes a bite of olive pizza, muttering about it being on his list of the worst things about humanity, and how he just scowls when Karin dangles a piece of olive in front of his nose. He’s sure that a few years ago, that would have gotten her killed, or at the very least maimed, but as it is now, Grimmjow just swats at her hand and glares while she laughs at him.
Time changes things, he thinks, allowing himself to lean back onto Grimmjow’s arm just a little. If a thumb gently swipes at his shoulder for the action, he’s certainly not going to be the one to mention it.
. . .
“The ice is going to be a bit more slippery this time since it was just swept, so be careful.”
“You don’t gotta tell me to be shit, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow grumbles, but seems to heed his advice as he steps out on the ice.
Ichigo rolls his eyes, but stays nearby incase Grimmjow slips. He almost does, and Ichigo is 100% positive his arm is going to have bruises later, but it’s worth it.
Grimmjow is a quick learner, and soon they’ve found their rhythm and are gliding around the rink easily, taking laps and testing out how fast they can go. Occasionally, Yuzu or Karin join them for a lap or two, and he has to shove Isshin away more than once, but overall they’re just skating around by themselves.
Ichigo keeps his hands in his pockets and Grimmjow hasn’t let go of his arm, but he’s certainly not going to be the one to mention it.
After Yuzu and Karin skate by them backwards, Ichigo guides them more towards the center of the rink so he can show Grimmjow how.
Feeling a bit bold, Ichigo takes both of Grimmjow’s hands in his own, wishing for the first time that he wasn’t wearing gloves for entirely selfish and not at all creepy reasons.
Resolutely, he ignores the leer Karin sends him over Grimmjow’s shoulder as she skates by.
Grimmjow’s own gaze is intense as he listens to Ichigo explain the wave motion to go backwards, then the same towards his feet as he demonstrates. The arrancar doesn’t seem to mind being dragged along the ice for it, at least.
“Not so hard, right?” he asks once Grimmjow himself is doing it, this time dragging Ichigo along.
“Feels fuckin’ stupid, Kurosaki.”
Ichigo shrugs, because it always does at first. “It’s just until you get better at being on the ice.”
“Still stupid.”
Ichigo laughs, and lets himself be pulled in circles around the rink. Grimmjow’s hands are warm even through the gloves.
Eventually, the sun starts to set and most of the people have already left the rink. All that’s really left are them, a few stray couples, and a group of senior ladies meandering along the outer corner of the rink.
“You learned really quickly, Grimmjow-san!” Yuzu praises, sliding to a stop in front of them. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold, hair a bit messy from the amount of spins she’d done. “Ichi-nii took way longer before he could skate without help.”
“Hey-!”
“Is that so?” Grimmjow grins as Ichigo sputters, pointing a finger at Yuzu.
“You weren’t even born when I was learning to skate! I was the one who taught you how to get up if you fell!” he accuses, face heating up.
She shrugs at him, and he’s suddenly reminded that she is, indeed, Karin’s twin.
His eye is twitching again, undoubtedly.
“Well, Ichi-nii, if you’re so good at skating why don’t you prove it?” Karin suggests, sliding up next to her sister with a grin he thinks has gotten worse since she met Grimmjow. “Boys versus girls, whoever gets around the rink fastest wins.”
Yuzu claps in agreement, while Grimmjow straightens next to him, and he knows he’s doomed.
“I don’t think—”
“I’m in,” Grimmjow says, grinning with all his teeth. “What do we get if we win?”
“Bragging rights,” Karin smirks, “and I know where Urahara keeps those candies you like.”
“Deal,” Grimmjow says, shaking his little sister’s hand. Ichigo gathers all his patience.
“What are the rules?” he asks, trying not to sound too put-upon.
Karin hums, then looks at Yuzu, who nods in some sort of freaky twin agreement. “You must stay in constant contact,” she starts, looking Ichigo directly in the eye. A part of him dies of embarrassment, he thinks. “No dragging one person around, you have to work as a team. No touching the wall, and if you fall you automatically lose. Sounds good?”
“Works for me,” Grimmjow shrugs, unceremoniously grabbing Ichigo’s hand and lacing their fingers together.
Ichigo carefully doesn’t breathe for a moment.
Karin and Yuzu smile something wicked, like this is what they had planned all along. It very well could be; his sisters could be very devious when they wanted to be.
But, two could play at this game, and he wasn’t about to be outdone by his siblings.
“Remember last month,” he whispers to Grimmjow while the girls recruit Isshin as the referee, “when we took down that hollow? And we had to charge at it together?”
An incredibly familiar grin splits Grimmjow’s face.
“I do.” Ichigo lets himself grin, just a little, squeezing the hand in his.
“We got this.”
“Planning your concession speech?” Karin teases, skating around them in a loop with Yuzu in tow. Isshin moves to the center of the rink, tapping at his phone.
“Ready, my beautiful children and future son-in-law!” he calls, as if they’re not in public.
Ichigo feels his face go beet red. Next to him, Grimmjow blinks, and if he’s not imagining it, there’s a dusting of pink on his cheeks too.
“Shut it, goat-face!” he yells back, flipping his father the bird.
His sisters, unrepentant, laugh at them. A tiny pang of betrayal pokes him in the chest. After all he’s done for them.
“We’re kicking their asses, right?” Grimmjow murmurs to him, tilting his head down so the girls couldn’t eavesdrop.
“Absolutely,” he replies just as quiet, glaring at the laughing twins.
Bumping fists, the two of them move to the middle of the rink, just in time for Yuzu to flip a coin. At the last second, Grimmjow picks heads and wins them the coin toss.
In a completely mature move, Ichigo sticks his tongue out at his sisters before he and Grimmjow skate over to the starting point. Both Yuzu and Karin return the gesture, despite the fact they’re pushing nineteen, so he feels a bit better about himself.
“Ready?” he asks, tapping the ice with his right foot to test it.
“Hell yeah,” Grimmjow replies, toothy grin in place.
“On the count of three,” Isshin starts, loud across the large rink, “Three!”
As one, Ichigo and Grimmjow lower themselves into position, legs closest to each other together, free legs back and ready to push.
“Two!”
They brace against each other’s arms, fingers interlocked. Grimmjow grins at him, eyes alight in challenge and upcoming adrenaline. Ichigo knows he must look similar, and it feels good.
Competition with Grimmjow, either on his side or against it, is a familiar thing after all.
“One! GO!”
There’s no whistle to be blown, but they take off like a shot anyway, bolting along the ice as fast as they can without breaking their faces. It’s not perfect (“Brace on me you idiot!” “I am!” “Brace mo—shit shit, turn! Turn!” “I’m turning!” “Well turn harder!” “The fuck do you think I’m tryna’ do?!”), but they make it through without falling and mostly in sync.
“Time!” Isshin calls once they glide by the gate again, nearly crashing into the wall in their haste, “19.24 seconds! Nice work boys! I’m so proud—” His father breaks into mock tears, and Ichigo considers it a win that he doesn’t puke all over the ice right then and there.
“Oh shut up old man, it’s our turn now,” Karin declares, dragging Yuzu along to the starting point.
Ichigo and Grimmjow skid to a stop in the center of the rink, smiles on their faces. Looking over at Grimmjow, Ichigo doesn’t bother hiding how happy he is. This wasn’t what he was expecting to happen today, not even close, but he can’t imagine wanting it to go any other way.
They’re still holding hands, Ichigo notes. He doesn’t dare say anything about it. If Grimmjow doesn’t notice, then that’s his problem.
He gives a squeeze for good measure, and swears his heart skips a beat when he gets one in return.
Before he can really savor it, the girls are off on their speed lap, in perfect sync as they round the first corner.
“Think they practiced?” Grimmjow mutters bitterly.
“Nah,” he replies, sighing, “twins can just do that.” Grimmjow clicks his tongue in annoyance. Quietly, Ichigo agrees.
Watching the twins move around the rink, he’s not very surprised when Isshin calls out that they won by almost three seconds. They both stick out their tongues, though Karin does most of the bragging while Grimmjow yells accusations of cheating and preferential treatment at Isshin.
Ichigo almost laughs at them, but then he sees Yuzu turn her back, not seeing the large stumbling man coming at her full speed.
“Hey, watch out—!” he calls, but it’s too late, and Yuzu’s already going down.
He hears her cry in pain as she falls, and before he can move, Grimmjow’s ripping his hand free and sprinting across the ice. Ichigo and Isshin are hot on his heels, Isshin going straight for Yuzu while Ichigo diverts course to go after Grimmjow.
The arrancar has the poor man pinned against the wall by his shirt, shaking him with what’s probably an unfair amount of force.
“Hey, hey!” he yells, grabbing the sleeve of Grimmjow’s obnoxiously expensive coat and yanking him back for all he’s worth. “Grimmjow, it was an accident, calm down!”
“Idiot should watch where he’s fucking going!” he growls, all Espada and teeth and not at all like the human he’s pretending to be.
The man in Grimmjow’s grasp stutters out apologies, bowing deep to them both, then to Yuzu on the ground. That seems to snap Grimmjow out of it, finally releasing the man with a snarl so he can personally check on Yuzu.
Ichigo turns his own glare on the man, but his desire to check on his sister outweighs his desire to yell at a stranger.
“Just… be more careful,” he bites out, ignoring the bows and apologies as he kneels down on the ice.
“I-I’m okay, guys…” Yuzu whispers, but there are tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and even though she’s not-so-little anymore, something protective and strong twists in the pit of his stomach. “I just twisted my ankle, I think I can still—ah!” Yuzu cries out when she tries to stand, clutching at her left ankle.
For the second time that day, Grimmjow moves before Ichigo can.
“C’mere kid,” the arrancar says softly, in the most gentle tone of voice he’s ever heard him use. Ichigo can’t seem to do anything but stare.
Grimmjow scoops Yuzu up into his arms, careful as he stands so he doesn’t jostle her ankle anymore than he has to. She wraps her arms around his neck tight, tucking her face into his neck in a way Ichigo’s surprised Grimmjow allows even from her. Karin hovers around them as he glides over to the gate, opening it so he doesn’t have to, Isshin not far behind.
“You’re a lucky man, with that one,” a voice says gently from behind him, and when Ichigo whirls around he only sees a little old lady smiling up at him. “I wouldn’t let him get away, honey; ones like him are hard to find.”
Ichigo blushes as he realizes what she means.
“O-Oh, we’re not—he’s not—”
She pats his arm. “Don’t worry my dear, you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” she says sagely, then reaches up to the lapel of her coat and shows him a tiny hidden rainbow pin. Ichigo’s eyes widen an embarrassing amount. “My son was lucky to find one like that in America, and you seem to be even luckier right here in Japan.”
Ichigo looks away from her and over to Grimmjow, breath catching in his throat at the sight of him hovering protectively around his sister while Karin helps her with her skates.
“Yeah, I guess so…” he mutters, blinking as Grimmjow glares at him and yells for him to get his ass over there.
The lady gives him a gentle shove and a laugh, and he does just that.
. . .
At home, Ichigo’s incredibly relieved to know that Yuzu’s ankle is just sprained, and that she’ll be good to go in a few days after some ice and rest.
Since she’s out of commission, however, Ichigo is left to the task of making hot chocolate for everyone, including Grimmjow, who’s currently hovering over his shoulder at the stove.
He uses Yuzu’s tried and true method, which she forced him to learn after she found out how he made it for himself (“You just microwaved water, Ichi-nii, how could I let you continue doing that?!”).
Reluctantly, he admits it makes a big difference, even if his original method worked just fine, thank you.
“‘The hell are these things?” Grimmjow asks out of the blue, holding up a bag of white. Ichigo rolls his eyes as he stirs the milk.
“They’re mini marshmallows, and they go in after it’s done. You can try one if you want.”
Grimmjow looks skeptical, eyes narrowed as he opens the bag and plucks one free. As he smells it, Ichigo is staunchly reminded of an alley cat he once saw sniffing at a can of fish.
“It’s sweet,” Grimmjow declares after he pops it in his mouth, though his tone gives absolutely no indication whatsoever of whether that’s a positive thing or not. He eats another, anyway, so it must not be too offensive.
Ichigo goes about adding the chocolate mix, then to grab the mugs only to find Grimmjow suddenly much closer than he had been a second ago. He’s holding a marshmallow up to Ichigo’s face.
“Uh,” Ichigo says, eloquently. He’s absolutely not blushing.
“Do you like marshmallows?” Grimmjow asks, eyebrows pinched together.
“Yes?” Apparently answering verbally was the wrong answer, because as soon as the word leaves his mouth Grimmjow is shoving the marshmallow onto his tongue.
Ichigo blinks and chews, trying to figure out what the hell just happened as Grimmjow wanders off into the living room, marshmallow bag and all.
Was that flirting, in Grimmjow language? Did he just get flirted with?
He has no idea, and decides to focus on his original task of getting mugs instead.
If he serves everyone their hot chocolate with a blush, that’s his business.
They all settle in for the movies, Yuzu gets sandwiched between Karin and Isshin, foot carefully propped up on the table in front of them, while Ichigo and Grimmjow somehow wind up sharing a cushion on the other end of the couch.
Grimmjow hooks his foot around Ichigo’s ankle as they get cozy. A shiver travels up his leg and spine, settling at the base of his skull. Deciding that after all that’s happened today, he’s allowed to be bold, Ichigo let’s himself sink down until his head is cushioned on Grimmjow’s shoulder. The body under his freezes, but just for a moment before completely relaxing.
An arm snakes around his shoulders, much like it did at the restaurant earlier. Ichigo can’t remember a time he felt more comfortable, honestly.
Looking up, he finds Grimmjow’s piercing blue gaze staring back at him, and yes, he notes, his sharp cheekbones are definitely pink.
Quiet, careful not to speak over the monologue of whatever’s playing on the tv, and like his family’s not a breath away, Grimmjow reaches out.
“You got some…” A thumb swipes at his upper lip and down to the corner of his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, Grimmjow takes his thumb back and into his mouth, and Ichigo swears a part of his soul dies.
Yup.
Definitely flirting.