[fic] Cohabitation {ALTERNATE SESSION IX: Proposal}
Title: Cohabitation: Alternate Sessions
Author: alstair
Pairing: Ichigo x Ishida Uryuu
Rating: G
Warnings: boylove, silliness
Summary: Ishida's POV. Living/rooming together is no walk in the park.
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach and the Characters of Bleach
The final installment.
THE SERIES:
Cohabitation: Sessions [complete]
Cohabitation: Alternate Sessions
ALTERNATE SESSION I: Waiting
ALTERNATE SESSION II: Rules
ALTERNATE SESSION III: Pajamas and Boxers
ALTERNATE SESSION IV: Plans
ALTERNATE SESSION V: Suspicions
ALTERNATE SESSION VI: Unpacked
ALTERNATE SESSION VII: Kisses
ALTERNATE SESSION VIII: Discoveries
ALTERNATE SESSION IX: Proposal
There was no need to rehearse the script. Everything he needed to say was in his head. After all, hadn't he said before that there had really only ever been three options: to endure, to lay a trap, or to confess (the Ichigo solution). Well, he had endured, he had laid the trap--eventually to find, almost by accident, the evidence that now allowed him to say with almost 99.99% confidence that Ichigo did actually like him, even if only subconsciously.
After all, who in their right mind (i.e., who with even a tenth of the brain cells of a ten year old), would draw naked pictures of their roommate unless they were in some way attracted (the 0.01% was for any random variable that chaos theory or whatever theory was flavor of the month in the academic circles assigned for such matters).
He had left Ichigo a note telling him to cook while he went out to get those things that he knew would be necessary for his plans for tonight. (Of course he knew Ichigo didn't know how to cook but the idiot had to sweat too, after all. Getting the Shinigami all worried about his inability to do anything more complex than frying bacon and eggs would certainly make what he was about to do all the more entertaining and worthwhile).
It was, ironically or not, time to confess.
But, Ishida thought, not without getting some personal satisfaction over it.
Standing in front of the door to their apartment, he slightly rearranged his features as he waited for the orange-haired Shinigami idiot he had always loved to open the door. And slipping in, Ishida did not wait for Ichigo to get a word out, much less whatever babble the idiot was about to utter given the rather messy and panicky state Ichigo's hair and dress was in (being a man who always made sure that his dress was impeccable Ishida didn't need much to guess when anything was in disarray, much less the amount Ichigo was exhibiting). Tiptoeing slightly so he could reach the other's height, he planted a slight, almost timid kiss on Ichigo's lips.
Surely the idiot wasn't dense enough to misinterpret that--especially when Ishida was certain that the horror of having to cook had removed whatever alcohol was left in the other's system.
Carrying the large stack of books in along with the shopping bag that contained the things he had bought for the evening he began to make his way into the kitchen. Behind him he could hear Ichigo spluttering as though willing his throat to work. Matter-of-fact, Ishida threw the truth over his shoulder. "You like me, don't you?"
"I wasn't sure then. Had asked myself if, when drunk, would you just kiss anybody? Not that I expect you to remember that incident, being an idiot. Then I saw the drawings you hid underneath your bed. Drawings of me naked. Of course being an idiot you never thought someone would find them there. But that doesn't matter since I now know otherwise. So the kiss for me...so not just anybody. Therefore, given all of the above I decided to tell you that I also feel the same...."
Throwing a glance backward all he saw was the idiot Shinigami staring at him with an open mouth--just like a goldfish. Sighing, Ishida retraced his steps and grabbed the other's hand. That sent a jolt into the other's system (forget that it sent as much of a jolt through his own system, nearly short-circuiting whatever was left of his sanity, surely). With another sigh, Ishida half-dragged Ichigo into the bedroom and made him sit at the edge of his bed while Ishida took the position opposite and facing the Shinigami, his knees bumping Ichigo's.
With the blush that was beginning to creep up Ichigo's cheeks Ishida though maybe he should add tomato-head or carrot-head to the list of endearments he'd use in the future.
Deciding that, as usual, the direct method would be the best in this situation even if he would, in general, die than say the words, he said,
"Do you, you know...want to have sex with me?"
In front of him, Ichigo seemed to not know whether to speak or stay silent (which in its own way was adorable). Eventually he croaked out, "What about dinner?"
Ishida had another sort of meal in mind and it did not involve chicken, roasted, boiled, basted, or whatever other concoction Ichigo had attempted in the kitchen. Kissing Ichigo squarely on the lips and ignoring the blush that had crept into his cheeks (totally ignoring the fact that he had already been blushing since earlier and that he probably looked like a tomato-head himself) placed the box he had prepared since that afternoon in the other's hand, saying, "We can, you know, always eat that later..."
And the rest, as they say, is history.
Banzai for Happy Family Planning!
Author: alstair
Pairing: Ichigo x Ishida Uryuu
Rating: G
Warnings: boylove, silliness
Summary: Ishida's POV. Living/rooming together is no walk in the park.
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach and the Characters of Bleach
The final installment.
THE SERIES:
Cohabitation: Sessions [complete]
Cohabitation: Alternate Sessions
ALTERNATE SESSION I: Waiting
ALTERNATE SESSION II: Rules
ALTERNATE SESSION III: Pajamas and Boxers
ALTERNATE SESSION IV: Plans
ALTERNATE SESSION V: Suspicions
ALTERNATE SESSION VI: Unpacked
ALTERNATE SESSION VII: Kisses
ALTERNATE SESSION VIII: Discoveries
ALTERNATE SESSION IX: Proposal
There was no need to rehearse the script. Everything he needed to say was in his head. After all, hadn't he said before that there had really only ever been three options: to endure, to lay a trap, or to confess (the Ichigo solution). Well, he had endured, he had laid the trap--eventually to find, almost by accident, the evidence that now allowed him to say with almost 99.99% confidence that Ichigo did actually like him, even if only subconsciously.
After all, who in their right mind (i.e., who with even a tenth of the brain cells of a ten year old), would draw naked pictures of their roommate unless they were in some way attracted (the 0.01% was for any random variable that chaos theory or whatever theory was flavor of the month in the academic circles assigned for such matters).
He had left Ichigo a note telling him to cook while he went out to get those things that he knew would be necessary for his plans for tonight. (Of course he knew Ichigo didn't know how to cook but the idiot had to sweat too, after all. Getting the Shinigami all worried about his inability to do anything more complex than frying bacon and eggs would certainly make what he was about to do all the more entertaining and worthwhile).
It was, ironically or not, time to confess.
But, Ishida thought, not without getting some personal satisfaction over it.
Standing in front of the door to their apartment, he slightly rearranged his features as he waited for the orange-haired Shinigami idiot he had always loved to open the door. And slipping in, Ishida did not wait for Ichigo to get a word out, much less whatever babble the idiot was about to utter given the rather messy and panicky state Ichigo's hair and dress was in (being a man who always made sure that his dress was impeccable Ishida didn't need much to guess when anything was in disarray, much less the amount Ichigo was exhibiting). Tiptoeing slightly so he could reach the other's height, he planted a slight, almost timid kiss on Ichigo's lips.
Surely the idiot wasn't dense enough to misinterpret that--especially when Ishida was certain that the horror of having to cook had removed whatever alcohol was left in the other's system.
Carrying the large stack of books in along with the shopping bag that contained the things he had bought for the evening he began to make his way into the kitchen. Behind him he could hear Ichigo spluttering as though willing his throat to work. Matter-of-fact, Ishida threw the truth over his shoulder. "You like me, don't you?"
"I wasn't sure then. Had asked myself if, when drunk, would you just kiss anybody? Not that I expect you to remember that incident, being an idiot. Then I saw the drawings you hid underneath your bed. Drawings of me naked. Of course being an idiot you never thought someone would find them there. But that doesn't matter since I now know otherwise. So the kiss for me...so not just anybody. Therefore, given all of the above I decided to tell you that I also feel the same...."
Throwing a glance backward all he saw was the idiot Shinigami staring at him with an open mouth--just like a goldfish. Sighing, Ishida retraced his steps and grabbed the other's hand. That sent a jolt into the other's system (forget that it sent as much of a jolt through his own system, nearly short-circuiting whatever was left of his sanity, surely). With another sigh, Ishida half-dragged Ichigo into the bedroom and made him sit at the edge of his bed while Ishida took the position opposite and facing the Shinigami, his knees bumping Ichigo's.
With the blush that was beginning to creep up Ichigo's cheeks Ishida though maybe he should add tomato-head or carrot-head to the list of endearments he'd use in the future.
Deciding that, as usual, the direct method would be the best in this situation even if he would, in general, die than say the words, he said,
"Do you, you know...want to have sex with me?"
In front of him, Ichigo seemed to not know whether to speak or stay silent (which in its own way was adorable). Eventually he croaked out, "What about dinner?"
Ishida had another sort of meal in mind and it did not involve chicken, roasted, boiled, basted, or whatever other concoction Ichigo had attempted in the kitchen. Kissing Ichigo squarely on the lips and ignoring the blush that had crept into his cheeks (totally ignoring the fact that he had already been blushing since earlier and that he probably looked like a tomato-head himself) placed the box he had prepared since that afternoon in the other's hand, saying, "We can, you know, always eat that later..."
And the rest, as they say, is history.
Banzai for Happy Family Planning!