.ೀ grimmjow doesn’t know how to cook for shit . . .
the apartment smelled faintly burnt when you opened the door.
you stopped halfway inside.
not enough to be dangerous. just enough to know somebody had absolutely fucked up your kitchen.
his voice came from the kitchen immediately, defensive before you’d even said anything. you shut the door slowly, already fighting back a smile. there was clattering, a curse, then the sound of something metallic hitting the counter.
when you walked in, the sight almost finished you.
grimmjow stood in front of the stove glaring at a frying pan like it had personally insulted him. sleeves shoved up to his elbows, hair messier than usual, smoke curling weakly from the pan beside him. there was raw meat sitting abandoned on the counter and what looked like the remains of a completely massacred attempt at seasoning.
“say one thing,” he warned.
“…were you trying to cook?”
that honestly made it worse. you bit the inside of your cheek hard enough to hurt because laughing in his face would definitely get you killed.
his jaw tightened instantly, eyes flicking away from yours for barely a second.
“you work too damn much,” he muttered. “figured i’d do it before you got back.”
the silence after that was so brief and yet somehow enough to make your chest ache.
because there he was, grimmjow jaegerjaquez, strongest-arrancar-alive ego and all, standing in your kitchen after apparently trying to make dinner for you and absolutely failing at it.
your eyes drifted toward the pan again. “did you put oil in there?”
“how the hell was i supposed to know it’d start smoking like that?”
you laughed before you could stop yourself.
his head snapped toward you immediately. “the fuck’s so funny?”
“nothing,” you grinned, walking past him. “move.”
he scowled but stepped aside eventually, still hovering obnoxiously close while you fixed the stove and opened a window. the entire time he kept glaring like the kitchen had betrayed him personally.
“i could’ve figured it out,” he muttered.
“you almost cremated the steak.”
you could feel him watching every movement while you cooked properly. arms crossed, leaning against the counter beside you with a permanent irritated crease between his brows. but underneath all that attitude was something restless. embarrassed, maybe. annoyed at himself for failing at something stupidly human.
“you didn’t have to do this, y’know,” you said quietly after a while.
he clicked his tongue hard at that, eyes narrowing. “don’t make it weird.”
the steak hissed softly in the pan. warm light filled the kitchen. somewhere outside, traffic murmured through the open window while grimmjow stayed planted beside you like an angry guard dog.
“…thought you’d be tired,” he admitted eventually, voice lower this time. “when you come back.”
instead he stared at the stove with the most murderous expression imaginable, like confessing basic concern was physically painful for him.
something warm twisted in your chest.
“you’re cute,” you said before thinking.
his head whipped toward you so fast it was almost violent. “i’ll kill you.”
you laughed again, softer this time, and nudged him away with your hip when he got too close to the stove. he grumbled under his breath the entire time but didn’t move far. just stayed attached to your side while you plated everything.
the second you handed him the steak, his entire mood shifted despite how much he tried to hide it.
the way his shoulders loosened. the way the permanent tension around his eyes softened slightly. he took the plate from your hands with a muttered “finally,” like he hadn’t been one bad minute away from sulking himself into the floor.
by the time you sat down on the couch, he was already there beside you.
too close to you, his knee pressed against yours while he ate, broad shoulder leaning heavier into your side after every bite. he acted completely unaware of it too, like this giant terrifying arrancar naturally belonged half draped over you while eating steak in silence.
you reached up automatically, fingers combing through the blue strands near the back of his neck.
then slowly leaned further down until his head rested against your shoulder.
“…don’t think this means anything,” he muttered around a mouthful of food.
“you’re only using me as a pillow because your steak turned out good.”
he narrowed his eyes instantly. “my steak?”
“well you technically made an attempt.”
“yeah? and you technically talk too much.”
if anything, he curled closer, one arm dropping heavily across your waist while he kept eating. warm. possessive. completely relaxed now that you were finally home.
you didn’t think he even realised how obvious he was anymore.
waaah first bleach fic 🥺 how do you guys like it?! this is seeing how my other fics for different fandoms will do, so i didn’t aim for anything big here tbh, i’d love to write more bleach fics (you’ll see them soon huhuhu)