Angry at the World

Various stories about various characters within the Angry at the World story, taking place at various times! (This means that some of them may even be taking place in that vague area of "the future." Session IV is one of those, since Grimm isn't exactly acknowledging his feelings at this point) I'll probably churn out three of these every once in awhile. This is basically for moments of fluff, angst or even smut that don't really have a place in the story, but are still important, like moments between more minor characters.

~

ANGER MANAGEMENT:
Session I - Outburst

Ishida finished the last touches on the Quincy cross on a silken shirt, and handed it to the waiting performer.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” The boy squeaked and ran towards the stage while he pulled on the garment. Ishida smirked vaguely to himself and adjusted his glasses. It had been nonstop work ever since the Arts and Crafts club had first volunteered there, but he didn’t really mind. It felt…nice to be working all the time, and helping the sometimes amazingly clumsy actors and dancers fix their clothes. They went through clothes faster than a pubescent boy. Not to mention he snuck the Quincy cross onto every outfit he could, and it was bound to take off as the next big fashion trend if he had anything to say about it.

“Hellooo~?” A bright female voice called somewhat nervously from down the hall. “Is any person there?”

“Ah, yes?” Ishida inquired, and walked down to the door he had heard her voice coming from.

“Oh thank god!” He heard her exclaim in English. “Please help me?” His lips tugged in a frown. Her accent was…atrocious. Was that some sort of northern twang he detected?

“Ah, certainly,” he offered graciously. She was, after all, a woman in need. It would be terrible etiquette not to. He opened the door to the dressing room and was greeted with the sight of a tall, curvy and pale woman in a shining thong and demi-bra, struggling to lift a blouse over her head. Ishida’s eyes widened and he slammed the door shut in an instant, blushing. Her attire had left very, very little to the imagination… “I’m so sorry madam! I thought you needed help, I didn’t mean to intrude!”

“No,no, please! I do! It…It…” She trailed off, before switching hopefully to English. “It’s stuck…” Awareness struck at Ishida. The costume was almost certainly too tight around the shoulders, but… …It still didn’t seem proper.

“Are you certain?” he asked carefully as he stepped into the room. Arms akimbo in the air, the girl turned to face him…sort of.

“Yes!” She exclaimed somewhat pathetically. Eyes determinedly set where the girl’s head would be, Ishida pulled on the blouse that was stuck on her shoulders. With a hearty tug she was free and they both stumbled back. “Oh thank you, thank you!” Before Ishida had time to catch his balance he was caught up in a fierce hug. Urk. She was… a little stronger than he looked, he realized as he tentatively patted her on the back in return. Her breasts pushed very insistently against his chest and he was starting to redden; he had thought Inoue had inoculated him to this sort of thing.

“It’s…nothing at all, madam,” he said, and she released him. Now that he could finally see all of her, Ishida’s heart skipped for a moment. Her eyes were a startling blue, large and distinct. Her black hair was close cut to her head, like a boy’s, but still soft and feathered. He felt a distinct heat starting behind his cheekbones, and decided to push up his glasses and ignore it as much as possible.

“Is there something you would like for thank you?” She asked sweetly. Ishida blushed furiously. I don’t think she knows what it sounds like she’s offering… …I hope she doesn’t know.

“What? No, that’s alrigh--” He tried to protest.

“How about a song!” She offered.

“That’s entirely—oh my, what are you--”

“Why are you red? Your glasses are so cute, can I try them on?”

“I—I, please, won’t you put on some cloth--”

“I look very smart in these, don’t you think?” Oh god. She was adorable. What? No, he didn’t think things, people, girls or otherwise, were adorable. …He was almost blind but he wanted her to keep wearing those glasses for as long as she wanted. This was ridiculous.

“…Pants?” He asked pleadingly. She blinked at him, still painfully cute behind those frames.

“Oh… Oh no… You’re not a performer are you? Oh god, god I’m such a little—“ She ran behind a small partitions and from what he could hear, was muttering various curses and insults at herself in English. “Things are so hectic backstage being nude half the time is normal, and I did not think…”

“Where are you from?” He blurted out. She really could have stayed in front of the partition. At this point he couldn’t see her very well anyway.

“Uhm…Canada,” she said quietly, and walked out carefully from the partition, wearing jeans and a collared blouse, looking all the world like a very, very sexy secretary with Ishida’s glasses on. “I know my accent is bad--”

“Would you like me to tutor you?” he asked her abruptly. The words were out of his mouth before he even knew what he was saying. He didn’t even know her name. What if she was an idiot? What if she drove him crazy with her terrible pronunciation, and she ended up being a vacuous harlot who seduced good students by wearing their glasses? Her lips split apart to reveal a dazzling smile, and his heart thumped. “Ah, I’m fluent in English, so it would be my honor --” She gently put his frames back on his face, and then carefully asked,

“Would you like to go out to dinner?”

“…” He stared at her for a moment, and she gave him an awkward smile that seemed to say “please stop making me make a fool of myself, and just say yes already.” So he smiled thinly, and answered. “I would enjoy that.”

Session II - Aggression

“Ohoho, Family Game Night time!” Goat-Face exclaimed. As usual, he seemed outta his frickin’ mind.

“Why are we doing this again?” Ichigo asked his father flatly as they all gathered around the table. His shirt was a little too short today, so every once in awhile it would lift up and give him a quick view of the teen’s abs and hips. It had made it pretty damn good day, but now Grimmjow was scowling mutinously, and staring the presented game with suspicion.

“It came to me in a dream last night! My darling Masaki said, Oh Isshin, please bring our family together again with the power of board games!” Yup, outta his mind. Yuzu beamed. Karin glared. “…Oh, and she said family, so you don’t have to be here,” his tone dropped precipitously and lost its humor, and he looked pointedly at Grimmjow.

“What the fuck?!” He burst out. What kind of treatment was that, singling him out!?

“Why is he here?” Karin asked.

“If I have to suffer, so does he,” Ichigo said. So maybe not singled out at all. He would have to pay Ichigo back for this family time business later.

“You’re an ass. I don’t get this, what is this game we’re playing?” He asked.

“Risk!” The old man said with satisfaction. “A game of war,” he finished, and glared at Grimmjow. Again. Fucker.

~ 20 minutes later ~

“Can I be somebody’s ally...?” Yuzu asked, looking sad.

“I will be your stalwart defender!” Isshin cried valiantly.

“You’re losing Dad,” Karin said. “It’s between me and Ichi-nii, really.” Stupid Isshin had rushed Grimmjow’s soldiers at the beginning of the game and failed spectacularly, spending the rest of his time holed up in one country. Yuzu had slowly been picked away by Karin while Ichigo had capitalized on Grimmjow’s weakened army. He had a few soldiers left and was mostly being ignored.

This, of course, was absolutely intolerable. He was Grimmjow! If fucking Goat-Face hadn’t been such an asshole, he woulda won this friggin game! Though it wasn’t like it had anything to do with how strong he actually was.

“…” Ichigo was watching him, and quirked one eyebrow with extreme suspicion. He had to be quick, he knew, or he would be stopped. No time t’waste and think about it.

“Grimmjow, what’re you…”

“…BLITZKRIEG!” He shouted, and swept all the pieces off the board. “Victory! Ahahaha!”

“YOU ASSHOLE!”

“GAHAHAHAHA!”

Inspired by this Mac Hall comic strip. :) http://www.machall.com/view.php?date=2002-04-03

~

Session III – Rock Bottom

“We’re going to get you real clothes this time, Renji. You know, fashionable things,” Rukia told him.

“Yeah, y’know, clothes that don’t make you look like you’re retarded,” Ichigo said with a grin. Renji fumed.

“How am I supposed to know your stupid trends!?”

“Matsumoto and Toshiro got it pretty quick. Rukia chooses some funky dresses--”

“I do not!”

“—and Yumichika dresses a little gay, but yeah, they pretty much all picked up on the basics…” Renji scowled darkly, and his friends laughed a little. “It won’t be that bad, don’t worry about it.” Ganging up on him like this wasn’t fair. Stupid Ichigo and Rukia. They stepped into the mall and led him into an overly bright store. Renji headed towards some likely looking shirts, but Rukia quickly steered him towards the changing room.

“We’ll grab the clothes, you try them on,” she said with a smile.

“I have to trust Ichigo’s fashion sense?” He asked with a sneer. He said that, even though Ichigo always seemed to be eerily well-dressed. Didn't seem like he did it on purpose, though.

“Tch, shut up. I look awesome,” the other redhead bragged, and walked away. …Yeah, he did. The form-fitting shirts, the sweaty gi, the low hanging pants, those low-hanging pants with the straps. They both came back with armfuls of clothing and shoved him in the changing room. He muttered about the ridiculousness of the situation. Every time he tried on a pair of pants or a shirt or a belt, they demanded he step outside the room and show it off. Then, even if he liked it, Rukia might not, or Ichigo might not, and they made him get rid of it. Or they made him keep it, when he absolutely hated it. If this wasn’t part of his cover for the real world…

He stepped out of the room in another outfit, and Ichigo walked out of the room next to him.

“Hey Rukia, I tried on that swimsuit you found…” Deep blue and white swim trunks hung low on the teen’s hips, showing his abs and the curve of bone. It was incredibly unfair whenever Ichigo showed off his body like that. High school, really? Renji carefully schooled his expression to one of neutrality and minor distaste. Rukia clapped her hands together.

“It looks great, I was right,” she said with a pleased grin.

“Terrible color on you,” Renji muttered.

“Yeah, whatever. Like I’m going to have time to take a goddamn swim. Do you even have a swimsuit Rukia?”

“Nah, she doesn’t like—“ Renji began.

“Of course I do! Inoue took me shopping, and I got a nice blue one-piece,” she said, and crossed her arms. He hated being wrong when it came to knowing things about Rukia, so he frowned a little.

“You would get a one-piece,” Ichigo said, needling her.

“Yeah, she’s always been embarrassed by her lack of assets, so she never wears a bikini or anything like that,” Renji said casually. Ichigo took a step away from the tattooed Shinigami.

Rukia slammed the changing room door in Renji’s face.

Session IV – Acceptance

Grimmjow watched him. He ached to watch him, and not be able to touch. Strong and solid, a fighter, never weak. His reiatsu always pulling him nearer and nearer. He was going to lose his head. So fucking…desirable. Red, and energetic and sarcastic. He loved it when he was the one responsible for that shit-eating grin, or when he provoked the bravado, or the harsh laughter. When he was the one who made Ichigo’s eyes soften or look away, because no matter what anyone else thought, it was when Ichigo looked away that he was showing the deepest part of himself. When he made Ichigo stop acting and gave him the chance to just react to the world.

He was like a statue, worth treasuring and revering, and then people had forgotten how important it was. Then, when everyone realized again how special it was, they wanted to fix it and couldn’t. But Grimmjow could, and the difference was that he’d known he was there all along. Their energies sang in counterpoint whenever they met. They were both more powerful together than they were apart, and it was heady and, well, not to sound gay, but beautiful. Kurosaki was beautiful, a masterpiece that belonged to him, because he wanted to. Not because he’d chained Ichigo to him, either. He was so goddamn proud of that. His boy, his orange hair, his brown eyes.

And he was so proud of doing all that for Ichigo. But what did Ichigo do for him? He gave feelings to a monster who had never had them before. He gave mercy and joy to a mongrel like Grimmjow because it was right, because he… …Because Grimmjow hoped, thought he knew, even fucking prayed, that it was because Ichigo loved him. He could make Grimmjow soften. They were equals. And Ichigo was…

…The only person who makes me smile. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me, because I love you more than you’ll ever know.