Work Text:
“Are you really wearing that to the party?” Karin asks, leaning against the kitchen counter as she judgmentally sips a juice box.
Ichigo frowns. He hasn’t even left the house and he’s already catching shit. He says, “It’s an ugly sweater contest, Karin. If it sucks bad enough for you to ask, I’m a shoe-in.”
She snorts, shakes her head. “Ugly doesn’t mean whatever that is. You can literally see trails of hot glue from the puff balls.”
And she’s not wrong, Ichigo doesn’t claim to be the patron saint of arts and crafts. He even burnt himself more than once while making this stupid thing. It’s a red sweater with green trim on the ends of the sleeves and hem. A white square border front and center has the words, “MERRY HO HO HOEMAS” written in white, glitter puffy paint, surrounded by glued on string LED christmas lights, more puffballs, and bells. It’s easily the most ridiculous thing he’s ever worn, hands down, and he stayed up until three in the morning making it.
“Sorry you don’t understand art,” Ichigo says, bypassing her to grab a carton of orange juice from the fridge and chug from it while maintaining eye contact. He swallows, wipes his mouth and puts the carton away. “Some of us went to school.”
“You barely passed highschool fucking around with dead people and fighting their battles. What’s the quadratic equation?”
Pause.
“Some mysticisms must never be revealed. Anyway, when I win, I’ll let you hold my trophy.”
Karin snorts. “Like Kisuke is shelling out for trophies.”
Ichigo shrugs. “I have to tell myself some part of this night will be worth it or I’ll back out and stay home.”
“Isn’t Grimmjow coming?”
She says it with this annoying waggling of her brows and smug smirk, complete with lip bite. Ichigo rolls his eyes. In the last few months, he and Grimmjow had gone from their usual monthly spars to weekly, which turned into just hanging out sometimes, which then turned into almost daily. It isn’t like Grimmjow is his boyfriend or anything. The man’s an arrancar, after all. And their relationship wouldn’t be called traditional by any standards–actually they fought more than they fucked. But, Ichigo would be lying if he said he didn’t have feelings for the man, despite the odds. Of course, he won’t be telling his sister that at all, one way or the next. In fact, he hasn’t told anyone.
Not even Grimmjow.
And, okay, so obviously the man was there and present for everything physical. But any intimacies had just…happened. Progressed from the violence of a fight until their grunts of pain and punches had changed tone. It isn’t romantic, what they have. Ichigo knows this. They’ve never kissed or held hands. Hell, Grimmjow hardly acts like anything has changed at all. And maybe to him, it hasn’t. Even humans sometimes have sex with strangers without it meaning anything.
But Ichigo doesn’t want to mean nothing to Grimmjow. In fact, just the thought makes him want to step right off his roof. Ever since they met, Grimmjow has had a one track mind for him. And tonight he plans to find out what that means once and for all. He can only hope it’s something even marginally more than strictly being considered prey. For all intents and purposes, he had invited Grimmjow to come with him as his date. He just…hadn’t used that word. Yet. He’s going to. He’s even been practicing.
Grimmjow, I’m…I’m in lov… I think you’re… I think I—
It still needs some work.
But Karin is still waiting for a response so Ichigo says, “Yeah, he’ll be here,” and tries to flee the room before she can give him that damn face any longer.
“Holy shit,” she says to Ichigo’s back. “Is he going to be in a sweater?”
Hang on.
“He fucking better be.” The spin back around into the conversation has Karin’s laughter back, but Ichigo is full of fierceness he hadn’t considered until this exact moment. Confessing to an arrancar would be mortifying enough. He absolutely would not be doing it as the only bozo decked in sloppy, Christmas cheer. “If I have to wear this shit, so does he.”
Isshin breezes into the kitchen, cleaned up and in a black sweater that says, “Jingle Balls”. That’s it. No other decorations. Just jingle balls. “Don’t worry, son. If your murderous arrancar isn’t wearing a sweater, I made an extra.”
“Even if I don’t ask, you’re still gonna show me, aren’t you?”
From behind his back, as if he’d been listening in on the conversation and preparing for this very entrance, Isshin pulls out a green knit sweater, red puff balls also hot glued all over. Along the neckline is a collar of bells, and in red and white puffy paint are the words, “Save A Raindeer, Ride Me.”
Ichigo wishes there was a camera for him to stare into.
“You misspelled reindeer , Dad.”
Isshin’s face becomes strangely serious, looking past Ichigo to the door. “It’s an ugly sweater competition, Ichigo. It adds to it.”
“Sure.”
Karin glances at the door. “Boytoy’s here.”
A moment later, Ichigo feels the familiar sense of Grimmjow’s reiatsu approaching, and is only mildly bitter that Karin managed to pick up on it first. Grimmjow doesn’t knock, he never does. Normally, he doesn’t even come to the door, just lets himself in through Ichigo’s window. Not today, though.
And Ichigo has been practicing for today. He’s told himself over and over that he’s going to use the d-word and maybe even, if there’s enough eggnog, the l-word. He isn’t nervous. No way. Why should he be? It’s just Grimmjow like it always is. And Ichigo is only planning to potentially ruin everything by introducing heartfelt feelings to a heartless hollow. It’s fine. It’s so beyond fine. Ichigo opens the door, and has the breath knocked out of him like always too.
How did it take him so long to figure out he was gay?
Grimmjow’s standing there with his hands in his pockets and shoulders rolled forward, a classic pose. He’s unfairly gorgeous, Ichigo thinks in the safety of his mind because like hell he’d just pass out compliments to a man with that calibre of ego. And he wants to kiss him. The feeling is nearly overwhelming even if it’s something they’ve never done before. But that’s only second on his list to the fact that Grimmjow is wearing his usual black zip-up and white jacket.
“Where the fuck is your sweater?”
“Hi to you too, Dickbag,” Grimmjow answers, shoulder checking him on the way in. He takes in the kitchen as Ichigo shuts the door.
“I’m not wearing this shit alone.”
Grimmjow turns once inside, his eyes falling down over Ichigo’s body then leisurely makes their way back up. “You stay up late makin’ that?” He’s smirking, leans closer.
“Till past midnight,” Karin answers, outing him with no hesitation. So much for the loyalty of family.
Ichigo groans, drags hands over his face. Grimmjow is ruffling Karin’s hair in greeting to her and Isshin is showing off his beautiful work, along with the extra sweater. If he wasn’t preoccupied with ensuring Grimmjow be as shittily dressed as him, he’d take a moment to feel soft over watching the three of them together. It had taken a while for Grimmjow to stick around long enough to meet his family. Now, he looks like he fits right in. It feels right, seeing him here like this. Ichigo is almost willing to forget the sweaters and anxiety of his impending official confession.
“Spelled reindeer wrong, Shinigami,” Grimmjow says to Isshin, brow raised.
Isshin throws the sweater on the floor, turns dramatically and runs into the wall with Masaki’s photo.
“Why does no one appreciate my humor, Masaki! Look what you’ve left me behind with!”
“Old man’s lost it,” Grimmjow says over his shoulder to Ichigo.
“He never had it.” Karin walks past them, leaving the kitchen. “I’m going to finish getting ready. Leave without me and I’ll open the floodgates on dirty secrets. Starting with you, Ichi-nii.”
Ichigo is about to ask whether the target on his back is metaphorical or somehow made of a type of reishi he can’t see. But Karin disappears up the stairs before any commentary can be made, and Ichigo feels his heart rate increase standing in a room alone with Grimmjow. Which is stupid, for the record, and another thing he won’t be sharing. He doesn’t have to tell him now. Just before the night’s over.
“You’re wearing the reindeer sweater if you don’t have one.”
Grimmjow grins, leans back against the counter. “So you can be distracted by how bad you wanna ride me all night?”
Ichigo deadpans. “Yeah. That’s it.”
“Kisuke’s got one for me.”
“You don’t sound as scared as you should be.”
He shrugs. “Said he’d dress my gigai for me. Figure it’ll be bullshit. If it sucks too bad, just won’t get in it. Meatsack creeps me out anyway.”
“You’re getting in it,” Ichigo impresses, a fire in his tone. If he’s going to jingle all night, he’ll be damned if Grimmjow doesn’t come down with him. “Or the only thing riding you will be…something…other than me. Fuck off.”
“Happy with that one?”
“No.”
Grimmjow chuckles, lets it go. He kicks Ichigo’s foot with his own. “I’ll wear the damn sweater.”
And boy does he.
They arrive at Urahara’s an hour or so later. His dad, Karin, him, and Grimmjow. Kon and Yuzu are already here, one of them agreeing to help with the holiday baking and the other one a total mooch. Urahara ushers Grimmjow along with him once in the shop, proclaiming secrecy in the department of sweaters. No one must see it until it’s fully donned, according to him. Allegedly, it ruins Christmas Magic. Which is funny because he’s not even festively dressed yet.
Ichigo glances around for booze. Any party with Urahara in charge is bound to be nonsense of an insane variety, but for now, it’s tame. Streamers in red and white spun together around the shop, and hunks of tinsel just…around. On the floor. On the table. Handfuls of tinsel. It looks like Jinta and Ururu had been given a basket of tacky decorations and put on a timer. Charming, in its own right.
He isn’t sure what to expect from the night, not yet, but after only a minute of Grimmjow being gone, Urahara peeks around the corner.
“Kurosaki-san,” he starts, humble. “Your assistance is required.”
Ichigo’s danger senses rise immediately. Something about following strange men into hallways. He frowns, doesn’t budge. They stare at each other for a few beats so long it actually begins to make him uncomfortable. Finally, he breaks, sighs, and follows Urahara down the hall. It’s a short trip. Grimmjow is in the room farthest down on the right. The door is open, back lighting dim, silhouetting his imposing frame like some cryptid caught on camera. Ichigo blinks. Then blinks again.
“Get the reindeer sweater,” Grimmjow says, gravely serious and standing before him in what he can only describe as the best thing he’s ever seen in his life. The “sweater” hardly covers his tits. It’s cream-colored yarn spun with glitter all throughout and long sleeves that hang over Grimmjow’s hands. Large red bows with bells for their center at the wrists with trailing ribbons. On his head, a reindeer antler headband with more bells. It’s the funniest shit he’s ever seen in his life.
Ichigo falls to the floor laughing his ass off.
“Shut the fuck up.” Grimmjow says, whacking him in earnest with his arm bow trails. “Kill him with me.”
“I’m right here,” Urahara says from the doorway, hardly holding himself and his laughter together behind his fan. Ichigo takes back anything he ever said about the man. In fact, after this, he’s absolved of any sins. Okay, well, maybe not that far.
“As if that changes shit for me?”
Ichigo uses Grimmjow’s momentary distraction to his advantage. He grabs his phone from his jeans pocket, lifts it to snap as many pictures as he can before Grimmjow sees what he’s doing and knocks his phone clean out of his hand.
“You’re not fuckin’ helping!”
“Oh, I’m not trying to help.” Ichigo picks his phone up off the floor, wipes it off. “Kinda surprised you don’t wanna rock that bad baby, though.” He can barely get the sentence out, biting his lip to try in earnest to keep himself from laughing. Never again would he have a day of depression. Not with this image burned into his memory. Even if Grimmjow did tell him to get fucked for confessing, at least he’d have this.
“You see these damn sleeves?” Said sleeves are flapped around, striking Ichigo in the chest, shoulders, face. He tastes yarn in his mouth and sputters, smacking away Grimmjow’s offending, flailing arms.
“Would you knock that off?” But the laughter comes through again. “Just take it off. I’ll see if dad brought the reindeer one. Probably did just to show it around.”
Grimmjow breathes out so harshly through his nose that half of Ichigo expects to see steam. “Can’t take it off.”
“Huh?” The sound of giggling from behind. Ichigo turns just in time to see Urahara disappear back down the hall to the party that was beginning to get underway. “No way he like glued it to the gigai...” His hands move up, exploratory, under the edge of the fabric that hardly covered Grimmjow’s nipples. It’s disrupted easily, allowing Ichigo’s fingers to dance over those gorgeous pec muscles.
“Quit feelin’ up my tits.”
“But they’re so nice.”
Grimmjow rolls his eyes, but doesn’t growl or shove Ichigo’s hands away, so he’ll take it as a win. “Just get the damn thing so I can rip this shit off.”
Ichigo does, sneaks his way back out down the hall. More people have arrived since Ichigo left the room, and he doesn’t quite feel like socializing just yet when Grimmjow is waiting in a bedroom half dressed. The reindeer sweater is held reverently in his dad’s hands as the man very obviously searches for a way to bring it up. Ichigo sidles up to him, grabs the thing, and books it back before Isshin has a chance to finish whatever the hell he’s about to yell.
Back in the room, he chucks it at Grimmjow’s face.
“There, now change.”
Once Grimmjow’s hands hold the new offering, he’s able to rip the cream sweater off into shreds and–damn, just how strong did Urahara make these gigais? It crumples to the ground, torn and with a sad last jingle, his dad’s creation pulled overhead and into place.
Ichigo snorts. “Better.”
Grimmjow shoves at his shoulder, smiles. “We gettin’ trashed tonight?”
“We have to hang out with my dad and Urahara in the same room all night. There’s no other way to make it through.”
Grimmjow’s nose scrunches. “Can’t believe you got me hangin’ out in a room stuffed with shinigami.”
“You like me or something?”
It’s a little too close to his end goal, and here is not the right time. Luckily for him, Grimmjow doesn’t read into it much. For his flirtations, Ichigo is shoved again, this time out the door and back towards the party.
They rejoin everyone in the main room, where Urahara holds a champagne glass and clinks at it with a fork he doesn’t even need. There’s no food out. Part of Ichigo hopes it shatters. It doesn’t. Whatever.
“Alright, everyone!” Urahara begins, clearing his throat. The devious look in his eye is suspect. Ichigo quickly glances around as if at any moment something will jump out at him. But Urahara continues, sans jumpscare. “I thank you all for attending my first annual Super Holiday Bash Party Jamboree Festival.”
“Redundant bastard,” Grimmjow mutters under his breath, and moves closer to Ichigo. The arrancar rests his jaw on Ichigo’s shoulder, posture shit like always, and Ichigo tries not to get carried away with the way his hair and neck are sniffed and nudged. If there’s one thing he’s learned about Grimmjow through these rare moments of instinctual touch, it’s that he’s way more cat-like than he ever let on.
Urahara clears his throat. “Now, I have an evening of fun and games ahead of us, and if the night is so kind, Yoruichi-san will drink enough to allow belly scratches later.”
“Not on your life,” she directs at Kon, who’s being held by Yuzu with stars in his eyes.
“If you’ll all follow me,” he continues like there were no interruptions. “The party awaits.”
Ichigo narrows his eyes, vigilance kicking in at the second time in one night he’s being asked to follow Urahara anywhere. But there’s something up. The room is made up of Ichigo, Grimmjow, Isshin, Karin, Yuzu, Kon, and Yoruichi. Tessai, Jinta, and Ururu were nowhere to be seen, and though Ichigo knows Urahara doesn’t have many if any friends, this is slim pickings even by his standards. Something is definitely up.
“Where the hell is everyone?” Ichigo says as he and Grimmjow warily follow behind the pack. Urahara only laughs to himself, which is more damning than most any reaction he can possibly have.
They’re led to the bunker hatch.
Oh, fuck no.
“Now,” Urahara starts, grin widening in a way that can only be described as positively gleeful. “I know what you’re all thinking. But the spirit of Christmas awaits us all just down this ladder! And, to make things more accessible, we’ve added an automated service for everyone’s coming and going.”
Yoruichi presses a button on some small remote device, and whirring can be heard from below. Looking over the edge, a small two-seater fashioned in the style of Santa’s Sleigh rolls its way up the ladder like one of those stair climbers for the elderly. Ichigo deadpans.
“Is this why you haven’t let us use the bunker for the last two months?”
“Very astute connection, Kurosaki-san! And not just for this. Everyone, take your rides two at a time to the bottom, and I’ll meet you in Wonderland.”
“That’s the last thing I’d ever want to hear from you.”
“I assure you my phrasing can always be worse.”
Well, there’s no arguing that one. Ichigo considers himself the type of man that prefers to get things over with rather than stall, so he paves the way by being the first to enter the stupid sleigh seat. He climbs down into it, half expecting the thing to detach from the ladder and plummet him to the ground. Somehow, it holds, and Ichigo looses a breath.
Grimmjow stands over the edge, stares down. “Like hell.”
Ichigo rolls his eyes. “C’mon, don’t be a bitch baby. Get in.”
“Oi,” he says, immediately rising to the bait and climbing in. “Fuck you.”
The sleigh holds Grimmjow’s weight as well, and for a moment, nothing happens. Yoruichi is holding the controller, she grins at them and says,
“Thanks for being the guinea pigs, losers,” and presses the button.
Now the sleigh plummets.
If either Grimmjow or Ichigo scream like two little girls on a rollercoaster, no they don’t.
They come to a stop much smoother than anticipated. No crashes or creaking gears, just a harsh stop that has a little handlebar digging into Ichigo’s stomach from the force, and Grimmjow who’s so pressed into his side they’re practically melded together. Fucking Urahara. The scene before them once they land , however, has his jaw on the floor.
The bunker has been totally overhauled for this occasion.
Gone is the dirt, the endless sand and sparse vegetation. Gone is the false sunny sky overhead. In their place, a winter’s night with shining stars twinkle above them. Snow blankets the ground as far as the eye can see. Frosted cobblestone beneath their feet acts as a trail, lined in hanging Christmas lights, that leads to a mansion-sized house decorated to look like gingerbread.
“What the fuck?” Grimmjow says, clearly thrown as well. Ichigo doesn’t miss the way the arrancar subtly shifts his body closer, nearly in front of him. Protective asshole. A smile worms its way onto his face before he can stop it.
“Imagine if this ends up being the sickest party either of us have ever been to.” With a light prod to Grimmjow’s back, Ichigo nudges him into heading up the pathway towards the house. Before they enter, Grimmjow tests the gingerbread look by leaning in to bite a corner of the outside wall. It breaks off into his mouth. He chews, swallows, frowns.
“Well?” Ichigo asks, intrigued and snapping a piece off for himself.
“Plaster.” Grimmjow answers simply.
“But you…” He stops, shakes his head. Drops the half shingle. “Never mind. Let’s go get drunk.”
They step inside, and the wonder of the outdoors only continues. Definitely inspired by the architecture in soul society, the inside of the house is packed and clearly pulled out all the stops in decking its halls. Tree ornaments look to be floating in the air around the ceiling, lights dancing off of them and casting iridescence onto every surface. In the main room, a large fire crackles in a traditional red-brick fireplace. To their left, a banquet table of hors d'oeuvres and drinks, and to the right, a decked out Christmas tree that had to be ten feet tall with presents littered at its feet.
“What the fuck, ” Grimmjow says again.
“Ichigo!” a familiar voice calls out over the crowd. Rukia may be small, but she can certainly project when she wants. Her hand is raised and waving furiously, but the first thing Ichigo sees is her sweater. Bright, almost neon, green with poorly-drawn rabbits made out of red glitter puffy paint. That was it. No words or anything even partially related to Christmas aside from the colors. Beside her, Inoue is smiling at them as well, holding a plate of snacks. Her sweater is the first one Ichigo sees that actually looks good. Red with a beautifully embroidered green Christmas tree on the front and small bows with bells for their center.
“Hey, you guys are here,” Ichigo says, bridging the rest of the gap between them with Grimmjow in tow. “Can you believe this? How did Urahara even make all this stuff?”
“It’s so pretty!” Inoue is practically sparkling herself as she watches all the lights. “Oh! And I brought sweet buns, if either of you want any. They’re on the table!”
Ichigo sideglances the snack table. “Just curious, but…what’d you fill them with?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Honey and pickles!”
Ichigo smacks his lips together but otherwise keeps silent. He’s not touching that combo with a ten foot pole. “Is Renji here?” he asks instead.
“He said he’ll be here after he finishes sewing.” Rukia can hardly hold in her laughter as she says it. “He’s taking it very seriously.”
“If he misses the party working on an ugly ass sweater it’ll be the funniest thing to happen all year.”
Rukia opens her mouth to reply, but her sound is overpowered by Urahara picking up a microphone. The feedback cuts across the room and has Ichigo slapping his hands over his ears. As soon as it blares out, it ends, and Urahara is tapping on it with a sheepish smile.
“Testing, testing!” he says. He’s fully dressed for the occasion now: Santa hat donned, red sweater with white fluff around the sleeves and hem, and a flashing LED plaque that reads, “Where My Ho’s At?” on the front. Ichigo wants to disown him on the spot. “Thank you all for coming! We’ve certainly been through a lot the last couple years, haven’t we? This party is a way to relax, get drunk, and find the spirit of Christmas in friendly competition!”
Competition?
A tap to his hip gets his attention, and when Ichigo looks down, Ururu is holding out a piece of paper to him. He takes it, and she carries on, passing them out to the guests. It’s as decorated as the rest of the house, and Ichigo can feel the unending transfer of glitter as if it were in his bones. Urahara continues, “You’re being given a set of rules to the game we’ll be playing. Whoever wins gets a prize! Once we’re finished, we’ll judge the sweaters.” Looking at the paper, it seems to be a scavenger hunt. “There are no rules aside from what’s written, and you have until I get too drunk to finish. Teams of two!”
The rules are simple enough. No openly sabotaging the other teams, no leaving the party grounds to complete any tasks, proof required for each challenge completion. The first clue is a simple riddle that reads,
It’s Christmas time, let’s spread some cheer! Your first clue is hiding near. I stand tall and green though not in a field, with ornaments and lights my magic is revealed.
Corny asshole.
“Hey, Grimmjow—,” Ichigo starts to say, looking up from the paper, only to see aforementioned hollow talking to Inoue and looking over her shoulder at the paper. He blinks twice, then walks up to them. “Hey, this first clue is—.”
Grimmjow looks up, then physically turns Inoue away by the shoulders as if to shield their paper. “Fuck off, Kurosaki. No cheatin’.”
“ What?”
Inoue chuckles nervously. “Grimmjow-kun asked to be on a team! So…”
Ichigo is a man incredulously betrayed. “Are you kidding me? Why would you ditch me?”
Grimmjow rolls his eyes. “Can’t kick your ass if we’re on the same team, moron.”
“Fine, asshole.” Ichigo turns his head, tries to seek out Rukia. “I’ll make my own team.” There she is. Talking to someone. “Rukia—.”Another guest shifts to the side, revealing her partner in conversation to be Ishida. “Don’t tell me.”
Ishida gives a small wave, which is really just a single half wave of his hand. “You have to work quickly when teaming up, you know.”
“You literally weren’t even here twenty seconds ago.”
Ishida pushes up his glasses with his middle finger and Ichigo gawks at him.
“Sorry, Ichigo!” Rukia says, on the verge of laughing at him. “Maybe Kon needs a team mate?”
“Coal,” Ichigo says, one hand on a hip as the other points between the four of them. “Coal for all you assholes.”
“Hey!” Rukia yells, stomping on his foot. “Apologize to Orihime for swearing at her.”
“Ow!”
“Oh, it’s okay, Rukia!” Inoue smiles and waves her hands about her.
“Ishida,” Ichigo says with a sigh. “Is Chad at least here?”
Ishida takes a dainty sip of his champagne. “He’s on a team with Keigo.”
“This is a mutiny. I’m getting a drink.” And Ichigo is about to walk past the lot of them to do just that when Grimmjow darts his arm out, hooks a finger into one of his belt loops and yanks him back. He almost falls because of it, stumbles a bit and is about to tell the arrancar off when the touch softens and Grimmjow says,
“Get me one.”
“Guess I can do that for the guy who’s about to lose to me. Again.” He smirks, and Grimmjow’s expression ignites in that beautiful, feral way of his. The hold on his belt loop drops, and Ichigo makes his way to the drink table. He eyes a small tray of Jell-O shots made with peppermint vodka, and takes two of those as well as two flutes of champagne for him and Grimmjow.
It’s not that he minds this becoming a competition between the two of them, it’s apt for every other way they interact. But Ichigo would be lying if he said there isn’t a small pit of disappointment in his stomach. He isn’t a romantic by any means, neither is Grimmjow, but the idea of them being on a date together had been nice. Not that he’d shared that desire. It’s just… he doesn’t really want to spend the whole night apart from him.
Another bullet point for the confession.
He comes back, nudges Grimmjow with his hip to pass over the drinks. Everyone looks to be paired up, some even starting to dart off on wherever the first clue may take them. Ichigo is starting to talk himself into the pros of seeing Grimmjow’s face if he loses to a one-person team.
“Last chance to be on my team,” he says. Grimmjow snorts, leans in with a grin.
“Gonna get jealous?”
Ichigo punches him in the chest. “So what if I might?”
“Good. Y’know, a big rack used to be just my type.”
Ichigo tongues the small jello shot ramekin, plainly unamused, and then downs his champagne. “And what’s your type now?”
Grimmjow smirks, parts his mouth to speak. He doesn’t get the chance, though. Someone is jumping over him. Like, actually jumping over him. Her seafoam hair is the first thing to note. The second is her voice yelling, “Ichigo!” and elongating the o so it acts as a sound effect to her sailing right over Grimmjow’s head. She makes bodily contact with him, taking Ichigo down to the floor and it’s a good thing he’d just drank all that was in his glass otherwise it’d be a mess. Neliel beams at him, glances to the champagne flute held up and unbroken. “Oops! I didn’t realize you were holding something.”
“Hey, Nel,” he says softly, fond.
“Ichigo, do you have a team yet? Let’s play together!”
“Oi.” That’s Grimmjow. Ichigo ignores him. Time for payback.
“Nope, no team.”
She stands, giddy, and tugs Ichigo up with a bit too much force. “Yay! Oh, yay! I’ve never played a scavenger hunt before!”
Once standing, Ichigo gets a better look at her. Green hair tied up in two bright red bows. Her hair long enough to still cascade over her shoulders. She’s in a blue sweater with white dots of paint to emulate snow all over. In the middle is a snowman made to look like a rabbit, and in poor handwriting it says, Hoppy Holidays!
“Did Rukia make this for you?” Ichigo can’t help but ask. He’s smiling and almost misses the way Grimmjow’s frown simmers from a few feet off. Serves him right. Ditching asshole.
“She helped me make it!”
“Yeah? That’s kinda cool that you guys hang out.” Glancing up, Ichigo realizes Nel’s hollow mask is missing from atop her head. “I didn’t even know you had a gigai.”
“Oh! Urahara-san made it for me for the party! Grimmjow kept talking about it, so I invited myself!”
“Fuckin’ freeloader,” Grimmjow grumbles, more irritated. But Nel doesn’t hear him, just keeps talking.
“Harribel-sama was too busy, but that’s okay. I told her I’d bring home something!”
Ichigo smirks. “Grimmjow was talking about it, huh?”
“He was worried about what to wear,” she starts, but that’s as far as it goes. Grimmjow’s hand slaps over her mouth, yanks her back.
“Time for you to shut the fuck up before I make you.”
It’s the wrong thing to say to Nel, who grabs Grimmjow’s wrist, adjusts her stance, and yanks him up and over her, effectively slamming him down into the wood on his back. Gone from her face is the playful sparkle Ichigo had just seen.
“Keep your hands to yourself, Grimmjow. Ichigo and I have a game to win.”
Grimmjow stares up at the ceiling as Ichigo bites his cheek hard enough to bleed just to keep from laughing. “Shut the fuck up,” he says without even looking over.
“Not saying shit.” Ichigo reaches out a hand to help him up. To his shock, Grimmjow takes it, doesn’t let go right away. That frown is still there, and Ichigo gives him a playful nudge.
“See you later, kay?”
“Don’t miss me too much,” Grimmjow says offhandedly, like an asshole. He turns back to Inoue and she leads him off.
“Did you read the first clue?” Ichigo asks Nel, trying not to dwell on wondering what was going through Grimmjow’s head. Is he regretting not being on a team? He’s frowning more than usual since Nel showed up. Or, maybe Ichigo is reading too much into it.
Nel, for her part, doesn’t comment on it and holds up her paper. “Yup! I stand tall and green but not in a field. It’s the Christmas tree!”
He smiles. “Yeah, pretty obvious. Let’s go check it out.”
“Okay!” Nel bounces closer to him, wraps herself around his arm and beams. “Oh, Ichigo I’m so excited to hang out together! Let’s win!”
“Yeah,” he says, and can’t help how soft it comes out. “Alright.”
They have fun, actually.
The Christmas tree held a tiny scroll tucked into one of the branches with a clue that led them outside and into the snow. The bunker-turned-Christmas-Wonderland was teeming with groups of his friends and acquaintances searching and laughing together. After an hour or so, Ichigo starts to wonder if these clues wouldn’t be endless. Into the snow, back inside to the fireplace, outside again to something under the eaves of the house, over and over. It would be just like Urahara to somehow manage a never-ending hunt for clues.
“Okay,” Ichigo starts, staring at the new leaflet of paper that reads, I am a man during winter, but water in the spring. I need to smell the roses, let that be what you bring. “Who did he get to write this stuff?”
Nel giggles, sifting through things in her bag they need to turn in at the end. So far, a small sample of pines off the Christmas tree from the first clue, a candy cane from the snack table, two sticks, a scarf, several pieces of coal from the fireplace—that had been a hazard. And now, “A snowman’s nose? Oh! A carrot!” she says.
“So, what, we have to go storm the kitchen?”
They’re outside deliberating, the snow in the air and covering the ground somehow not causing too bad of a chill. Ichigo shoves hands into his pockets, glances around. He’s definitely not looking for Grimmjow. Definitely not. But, off in the distance, he sees their next mark. Standing tall with goofy little coal faces.
Snowmen.
Nel follows his gaze, and catches on immediately. “We just have to steal one of their noses!”
Ichigo chuckles. “Kinda makes his clue useless, right? We’re taking away his nose, not bringing it.”
“I suppose so,” she says, laughing.
They’re walking toward all the snow men. Ichigo uses it as an opportunity to practice his confession in his head. He has to do it in a way that Grimmjow won’t call corny. Or write off immediately. And actually Ichigo is more screwed than he lets himself believe because he’s never done this before ever. What the hell is he even supposed to say?
Hey, so…you know how we’ve been sleeping together sometimes after a fight? And how you come over for dinner sometimes? And how you show up to sleep in my bed for no reason? Yeah, well, funny thing about that is I kinda fell in love with you during all of that, so. There’s that. And. I guess that’s it but it’d be great if you didn’t punch me in the face for saying so.
Yeah. It needs some work.
The walk is longer than he thought it would be, and Ichigo finds himself reminiscing of the castle of Las Noches standing proudly on the horizon, seeming to never move closer. He sighs.
“So…” Nel starts, kicking a boot of snow up in the air as she stomps a little path for herself. “You and Grimmjow?”
Ichigo stumbles, falls into the snow. He stands up quicker than he went down, brushing himself off with a heated face. “Uh…me and Grimmjow what?” Nice save.
Nel snorts. “Come on, Ichigo. I’ve never seen Grimmjow care about anything even remotely related to appearances or parties. And there are so many shinigami here. He must have a reason.”
It would be easy to buy into that, to think about Grimmjow storming around the halls bitching about what he was supposed to wear. Worried about how he’d look. Trying to impress him. But, Ichigo knows better. Of course he does. Even still…
“Was he really talking about it a lot?”
Nel’s eyes sparkle. “Like you wouldn’t believe! He was so grumpy. Even Harribel-sama noticed. Apachi told him he just needs to get laid, and he didn’t even agree. So, since you’re always on the top of his priority list, I just thought…” She trails off, looking at him expectantly. Ichigo tries not to feel embarrassed. This is fine. This conversation is fine. Actually, if he’s going to discuss being in love with a hollow, there’s no one better to hear his woes than Nel. No judgment from her on the object of his affections, so to speak. Aside from her personal opinion of Grimmjow which Ichigo wasn’t sure of.
“I, uh…” he starts, blows out a breath that morphs into a nervous laugh. “Yeah. Him and I are…I mean kinda. Nothing official. I’m trying to convince myself to tell him tonight.”
Arm immediately grabbed onto, Nel squeezes him and begins to jump up and down as they walk. “Oh my gosh you have to! You absolutely have to, Ichigo! It’s Christmas!”
He laughs, how can he not? It’s easy to get caught up in Nel’s good mood, her positivity. Nice to be around her in general. Especially now that she has the ability to not be snot-nosed and sticky. “Do hollows care about Christmas?” he asks, halfway trying to change the subject and halfway curious himself. Nel’s hold falters, and somehow Ichigo feels he’s made a mistake, a misstep.
Nel’s voice is quiet when she says, “It was my favorite. Growing up, I mean.”
Growing up.
“You remember being human?”
He hopes it isn’t a sensitive subject. This topic as a whole is totally uncharted waters for him. Despite the time they spend together, he hasn’t dared ask Grimmjow. Ichigo wouldn’t describe himself as the type of man to pussyfoot around anyone, but it isn’t like he goes out of his way to piss them off. And everything about Grimmjow had always made him feel like the topic would be off limits. The same may be true for Nel, considering the way her mood seemed to dip.
She smiles, but it’s not quite as bright. “Oh, not everything…and not until Aizen. Before then, well…” she trails off again, but this time it’s not for good. Only a moment as she looks to be wondering just how to phrase herself. “I suppose I had other things on my mind.”
“I dunno if I should ask,” Ichigo says, chuckling a little, almost nervous.
Nel squeezes his shoulder, her expression warming again. “That’s okay. It’s not a happy story. Maybe one day we can talk about it. But! For now, this is about you! How are you going to tell him?”
No running from the topic anymore. “I, uh…I was just gonna…y’know…”
“Haha you’re totally nervous! That’s so cute!”
They reach the snowmen, and Ichigo groans when he sees a few of them are already missing their carrot noses. He didn’t expect them to be in first place, not with their delayed start, but if Grimmjow beat him he’d never hear the end of it.
Nel dashes forward, grabbing a large carrot out of a snowman’s face. “Got it!” she waves the vegetable above her head, almost dancing back to Ichigo.
“Was there another clue?” he says, ignoring the nervous jab.
“Oh!” Nel turns back, checks around. She leans in close to where the carrot used to be, and pulls out a small leaflet. Aloud, she reads, “ Now you have me, nose and cheer. The time to win is almost near. Combine your efforts, your treasures of plunder, and build for me your Christmas Wonder.” She pauses. “Treasures of plunder is such bizarre wording.”
“He was running out of juice at the end. Can I see it?”
Nel passes him the paper. Ichigo stares at it and frowns. Combine your efforts…build Christmas wonder? What the fuck.
“Wait!” Nel says, snatching the paper back and then looking into their bag of spoils. “I get it!” She turns to Ichigo, smile bright and contagious. “We have to build a snowman too!”
“What?”
Excitedly, she opens the bag for Ichigo to see. “It’s all here! A scarf, a few stones of coal for the eyes and buttons, two sticks for arms, little pine needles for his hair, and now the carrot! It’s a snowman contest!”
“Fucking Urahara and his fifty million steps. I need like ten more Jell-O shots.”
“Don’t be a spoil sport, Ichigo! This will be so much fun! Let’s build it by the cottage so we can get new drinks! And you can read me your script for the confession.”
“I don’t have a script!”
Nel’s face turns suddenly serious. “This is worse than I thought. What about that mushy monologue from The Notebook?”
“Absolute pass.”
“What about…”
And it goes like that.
They make it back to the house, multiple groups already mid-snowman, and so Ichigo figures Nel must have been dead on with her guess. Not too far off from them, he spots Grimmjow and Inoue, icy construction under way. She looks to be having a good time, which makes Ichigo feel strange. Of course he doesn’t want them to not get along or anything, and Inoue doesn’t deserve to spend her whole night with a dickbag so if Grimmjow is being nice that’s great. It’s just…
“You go get a drink, Ichigo, I’ll get started!”
Yeah. He needs one.
Ichigo pretends he isn’t hoping Grimmjow will look over at him as he walks up to the house on the hunt for jello, but he’d be lying. And it’s not even realistic to expect that anyway. He and Inoue have to be over thirty feet away and there’s lots of others around. He has no reason to look up.
Except that he does.
As if sensing him, Grimmjow turns his head, makes eye contact with Ichigo. The entirety of his insides warm like an idiot. Ichigo smiles and flips him off. Grimmjow gives him the finger right back with a grin.
He’ll confess after the game is over.
Getting back, two shots later and two in his pocket for Nel, their snowman is already more than halfway completed. Nel went totally overboard with the layers, and the second ball of snow is much too high up for her reach to place its head. Ichigo approaches, watches her try to get it up high enough. There’s no making a foothold in a gigai, no standing on air. Nel looks like she hadn’t been briefed on the shortcomings.
“Here,” Ichigo says, and makes a stance to lift her up at the thighs. “Can I?”
“You’re such a gentleman,” she says, ruffles Ichigo’s hair. “Go ahead.”
Ichigo lifts Nel up, high enough to place the snowman’s head. He holds her long enough for her to put the pieces of coal, the carrot, little pine needles and scarf. With a final motion, Nel slams the two arms in place just as Ichigo lowers her back to the ground.
“It’s so pretty!” she exclaims, and yeah, Ichigo agrees.
“That’s because you did all the work,” he says, and laughs.
Nel turns, gives Ichigo a brutal hug with her arms wrapped around his neck. If he wasn’t batting for the other team, he thinks she’d be a really healing person to date. Ichigo looks around, and meets Grimmjow’s gaze again somehow. It cuts through the crowd, Nel’s arms still wrapped tight.
Ichigo can feel that glare from across the snow.
“Okay!” she says, serious. Letting go, Nel’s hands find firm purchase on his shoulders, a stern look in her eye. “I’ll turn in our clues, and you go confess your love!”
Ichigo’s heart beats into overdrive once more.
“N-Now?”
Nel laughs. “Yes, now! Now is perfect. Everyone is still outside building. You can bring him inside and have some privacy!”
Ichigo’s gaze wanders back to Grimmjow, no longer looking at him. He’s hesitant. But he’s also just nervous. This could very well be the worst idea he’s had in a long time. Or, it could work out. Maybe. If the stars align.
Nel shoves him in the back, not taking no for an answer. “Go! Go!”
Ichigo goes.
The walk back to the house now is somehow way more nerve-wracking than it was before. Now, each step seems to echo as it displaces snow around his feet. The cobblestone path peeks out, and Ichigo stares down at it. He’s not going to bitch out. No way. But when he looks around for Grimmjow and Inoue, they’re gone. Inside already? There’s only one way to find out.
Ichigo makes his way inside, it’s somehow still crowded. Around him, people run up and down the stairs, around the tables, very focused with small leaflets in their hands. Some of them wave and greet him. Even Rangiku and Hitsugaya are here, though they don’t see him. And that’s just fine, honestly. He’s not really in the mood to make conversation with anyone else right now. He’s been running around for the last hour and a half with Nel, and yeah, she’s great, but…
He sees Grimmjow with his back towards him, Inoue just ahead, and Yoruichi talking to both of them. Ichigo makes his way up, opens his mouth to speak, when he hears Yoruichi say,
“Surprised you weren’t teamed up with your cute little ginger boyfriend, Arrancar.”
And she must know Ichigo is there, even if she isn’t giving it away by glancing up. It’s too convenient timing, and it’s one-hundred percent something she’d do. Ichigo feels his heart kick into overdrive. Grimmjow makes a sound of irritation, says,
“Kurosaki ain’t my damn boyfriend .” And that last word is nothing but pure disgust, spit out like ash. Ichigo freezes in his tracks.
Yoruichi is definitely aware of his presence. She laughs a bit too loud, slaps Grimmjow on the shoulder, tries to compensate. “Sure. What do hollows call their partners anyway? Do you guys date?”
“Fuck’re you goin’ on about? He ain’t my boyfriend. He ain’t my partner . He ain’t my jack shit.”
Oh, that’s definitely what having your heart broken feels like. Ichigo feels the way the words splinter through him, knock the breath from his lungs. The mortification sets in a microsecond later when Yoruichi glances up and meets his eyes. Ichigo clenches his jaw and mentally sifts through the logistics of turning tail and running. Instead, he decides to play it off. It’s not like he told Yoruichi his plan. Which is just as well because he sure as fuck isn’t doing it now.
Ichigo passes by their little group and tries to b-line for the drink table. Yeah, the last thirty or so flutes of champagne definitely have his name written on them. Grimmjow must see him, because he says, “Oi, Kurosaki,” and is promptly ignored. Ichigo can’t look at him right now. He needs to sit in his feelings of being the stupidest motherfucker on the planet for ever believing even for a moment that Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez would somehow feel anything like that for him. Everything between them had been the heat of the moment in battle, nothing more. Carnal instincts.
That’s all.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” Yoruichi says to Grimmjow, who promptly asks her what the fuck she’s going on about. And Ichigo doesn’t want to hear anymore. He wants to go back outside, stare at the snowman he built with Nel while he drinks his feelings away. And that’s it.
“Hey,” Grimmjow says to him again, and Ichigo considers ignoring him twice but that would be too obvious. Ichigo stops, briefly, gives Grimmjow a cursory glance and says,
“Huh?”
Grimmjow frowns. “Fuck do you mean huh, I said your name.”
“Did you?” Ichigo replies, making his way to the door. “Didn’t hear you.” The icy cold hits his face. It’s refreshing. He really really needs to get a grip on everything he’s feeling right now. Take a minute to mourn and try to move on before things get even worse. Grimmjow had rejected him without even knowing it’s what he was doing. Ichigo didn’t have to further his own embarrassment by tipping him off to anything. If Grimmjow knew what he said upset him, everything else would be too painfully obvious and then he’d have to change his name and skip town just to recover.
“Bullshit,” Grimmjow growls, following him right behind. “Too busy with Neliel’s tits in your face?”
Oh, no he fucking did not.
“ What?” Ichigo says, spinning on a dime with a full assault of incredulity on his face.
“Fuckin’ heard me.”
“Take that back or else.”
Grimmjow snorts. “ Or else? Are you a damn kid? I said too busy with Neliel’s tits in your—.”
Ichigo decks Grimmjow in the face.
“Fuck you!” he says, way more heated than he should allow himself to be. But Grimmjow doesn’t stop to ask questions or wonder why things are escalating this way. Of course he doesn’t. He returns the swing immediately, a ferocity in his eyes, and makes brutal contact with Ichigo’s cheek.
Stumbling back, one minute Ichigo is standing, and the next he’s falling ass-first right into the snowman Grimmjow had built with Inoue. But there’s no time to dwell on crushed snow, as Grimmjow follows him down immediately.
It’s an all out Christmas Brawl.
“What’s your fuckin’ problem!?” Grimmjow yells, kneeing Ichigo in the gut the moment he tries to stand.
“You’re the one with the problem, asshole!” And Ichigo dives his hand into Grimmjow’s hair and yanks him back down with him. They exchange blows, kicks, a few good battle cries for good measure. The snowman is a mound of its former self by the time they’re done with him. And Ichigo doesn’t even realize the carnage they’ve left in their wake until Inoue comes running up to them, Urahara in tow, and says,
“Our snowman is so cute, Urahara-san! Just loo—.” Her voice catches, eyes flicking between Ichigo to Grimmjow, hands falling to her side. “Well,” she says, chuckling nervously. “It… was so cute. Haha… Kurosaki-kun, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Ichigo pushes himself up, shoves away from Grimmjow, and storms inside. There are too many eyes, too many people. Too much of an audience to make a total idiot out of himself with these unwanted feelings. He says, “Sorry about the snowman, Inoue,” and trudges his ass back to the house where he intends to find an unoccupied room to lay face down in until this is all over.
He makes it to the mouth of the first hallway before Grimmjow catches up and grabs his wrist.
“Fuck you, Kurosaki” he starts. “You don’t get to walk away from me.”
Man if that isn’t the truth.
Ichigo tries and fails to wrench his hand free. “I can do whatever the hell I want, asshole.” And he really should shut up. He really should shut up. But, as it turns out, all Jell-O shots are good for is loosening your lips. “Thought I wasn’t jack shit?”
Grimmjow’s grip falters, holds. His eyes widen and constrict and there’s this crease in between his brows that show his frustration and confusion.
“You’re pissed at me for that?”
Fuck. No way out of this now.
“I—,” he starts, gritting his teeth. “Can you just leave me the hell alone?”
“No.” It’s simple. Grimmjow holds his wrist harder. He stares at Ichigo like he’s trying to puzzle something out. Ichigo wants to dig a hole and never return. Eventually, his patience runs out.
“Let go or I’m punching you in the face again.”
He shrugs. “So punch me in the face.” After a second, Grimmjow smirks. “Pissed that I wasn’t singing your praises?”
“What the hell does that even mean?” Another yank.
“You’re used to people kissin’ your ass, Kurosaki. Fuck me for not fallin’ at your feet.”
Ichigo does punch him again. “It’s not like that at all, you jackass!”
Grimmjow grins, their second brawl of the night breaking out in the hallway where there’s much less room to knock into things like snowmen. He takes a particularly gnarly uppercut to the jaw, bites his tongue bloody.
“Then what’s it fuckin’ like, huh? Go on!”
And Ichigo knows Grimmjow expects another answer, but fuck he can’t keep quiet anymore. If this is the end of him, he can always hide in his room for the next ten years. Ichigo lets his fist fly with his full human strength into Grimmjow’s cheek as he yells,
“I’m in love with you, you fucking bag of dicks! That’s what it’s like!”
Grimmjow falters. “Fuck you. You are not.”
“Do you think I hate myself enough to lie about something like that? I just had to listen to you practically puke over the thought of us being together and I still just opened my mouth! If being with me grosses you out so bad why the hell sleep with me? Or do all hollows just think with whatever instinct strikes first? Maybe I should go ask Nel.”
Okay, so maybe he deserves the full force punch directly to his solar plexus for that one. Grimmjow’s eyes are positively feral when he shoves them up against the wall, fists tangled up in the front of Ichigo’s sweater and his teeth bared. “I’ll fuckin’ kill her for touching you.”
“Why the hell do you care?” Another trade of blows. “You don’t even want me!”
“Who the fuck said I didn’t!?”
“Literally you! Just now!”
With a growl, Grimmjow’s hand goes for Ichigo’s throat, but like hell he’s going to go down easy. Ichigo thrashes out with his legs, striking Grimmjow in the thigh, the gut. Their fighting gets dirtier with both of them coming dangerously close to successfully nailing the other in the nuts. It ends with Ichigo falling directly on top of Grimmjow. They go down. This cannot get any worse.
“I said you weren’t mine! Cause the hell if you are! Fuckin’ shinigami jesus with everyone kissin’ your damn feet wherever you go! I’m a hollow , Kurosaki. Heartless fuckin’ monster. That what people want for their savior?”
This isn’t making any sense. “Who gives a shit what anyone else wants!? I want you!” He’s panting when it comes out, fingers curling into fists on Grimmjow’s chest as he straddles him. Their sweaters are twinkling, light dancing off the walls, and Grimmjow’s stupid reindeer headband has managed to stay on through this entire ordeal. “I want you,” he says again. “I don’t need your heart. I don’t need your soul. I don’t need you to do anything except just…just fucking date me, okay?”
There’s a whistle, low and whooping, and when Ichigo looks up he sees Yoruichi standing not too far off from them. Urahara beside her. Around them is pretty much everyone he knows, watching all of this in real time. He wants to die. But Yoruichi points up, and he follows the direction.
Hanging above their heads at the mouth of the hallway is a sprig of mistletoe.
Grimmjow follows his line of sight, pushes himself up on his elbows a bit. For a minute, he just frowns at it.
“Date you, huh?” is what he says after a while.
Ichigo swallows, thick. “Yeah. You want to?”
They look at each other. Grimmjow gives him a sideways smirk, one that makes Ichigo’s insides do flip flops. Doki doki bitch of a heart.
“Stupid bastard, don’t you get it yet?” Grimmjow slides his hand along Ichigo’s jaw, gentle despite the rest of them. He pulls Ichigo closer. “Wanted you since the day I saw you, Shinigami.”
The kiss is soft, impossibly. The most hesitant thing he’s ever seen Grimmjow do. Ichigo’s heart jumps in his chest, fluttering bird of a thing. It deepens, only for a moment, with hints of teeth and more, before Grimmjow breaks the contact. Ichigo’s on cloud ten eleven and twelve at the look in his eyes.
“Merry Christmas, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow says. “Sappy fucker.”
“Merry Christmas, Grimmjow.”
The small audience they acquired cheers and claps, and Ichigo doesn’t even find he’s that embarrassed over it. Him and Grimmjow get to their feet, and Grimmjow nudges him with his shoulder, smiling.
“Y’know,” Ichigo starts, looking Grimmjow up and down. “I kinda wish you didn’t rip that first sweater up.” Grimmjow puts him in a headlock until Ichigo nut taps him, but they’re both laughing. Grimmjow is his. It’s insane to think about.
Grimmjow wins the ugly sweater contest, and Isshin takes a sake bottle as his prize for being the one to make it. Ishida and Rukia win the scavenger hunt. They all drink and laugh and have more fun than Ichigo can remember. And all throughout he takes little moments to reach out and hold Grimmjow’s hand.
Just because he can.
Renji stands proud and tall on Urahara’s doorstep, the moon shining down overhead. He’s wearing a green sweater with the words “Deck My Balls” written in bold red and white block font. Around it, a multitude of painted arrows and lights. He knocks on Urahara’s door, grin in place.
“Abarai-san?”
Renji finger guns to his sweater. “Let’s fucking go .”
“Abarai-san,” Urahara says again, tired. “It’s January third.”