Confession
“You,” Renji pronounced, poking her indelicately in the ribs, making her curl in on the afflicted area even as she tried to lean away from him (to avoid any further attacks), “are way too distracted.”
Rukia snorted derisively, as if to say, “you’re absolutely mad,” and went right back to being distracted. At least she had the grace to blush this time.
“You perv,” Renji muttered, settling down beside her - only to reel away with a yelp when she punched him in the arm.
“It’s not my fault!” she defended, cheeks burning. “I refuse to take the blame for this one!”
“Yeah, how do you figure that?” he demanded, one eyebrow raised as he glared down at her, rubbing his arm where her sharp little knuckles had made contact.
Rukia mumbled something, her face as red as Renji had ever seen it, and then she made a concerted and valiant (and totally unsuccessful) attempt to look anywhere but where she’d been looking.
“What was that?” he wheedled, dropping an arm around her shoulders and leaning heavily against her in an attempt to be as obnoxious as possible. Again, she mumbled, and again his fingers found their way to her ribs, poking, prodding, tickling, pinching, and generally making a nuisance of themselves.
“It’s the pants!” she finally exploded, breathless with laughter. “It’s those damn pants, and the narrow hips, and the cute little ass, and-“
“Oh geez,” Renji muttered, releasing her and shoving her away all in the same motion. “I wish I’d never asked.”
“It’s not my fault!” she maintained, tugging his sleeve placatingly.
“Of course not,” he countered, shoving her away again. “It’s Kurosaki’s, for not wearing baggier pants.”
“You have to admit,” Rukia cajoled, hand unmoving on his sleeve as her gaze returned to Ichigo’s…. pants. “He looks good in those pants.”
He snickered. “No I don’t.”
“But he does. Admit it.”
“No.”
“Renji-“
“I said no, damnit!”
Silence greeted him, along with a look that was half “You liar!” and half “I’m right and you know it, you stubborn ass!”
Renji bit back a growl, and slowly - so slowly it was almost funny - let his eyes wander in Ichigo’s direction. They settled, just for a second, before darting away to stare accusingly at the patch of grass beside him.
“All right, fine,” he admitted grudgingly. “He looks good in the pants.”
Rukia stared at him for a moment, before breaking into hysterical laughter. “You perv,” she gasped out before falling backwards to curl up on the grass under the onslaught of her laughter.
Renji swore.
Rukia snorted derisively, as if to say, “you’re absolutely mad,” and went right back to being distracted. At least she had the grace to blush this time.
“You perv,” Renji muttered, settling down beside her - only to reel away with a yelp when she punched him in the arm.
“It’s not my fault!” she defended, cheeks burning. “I refuse to take the blame for this one!”
“Yeah, how do you figure that?” he demanded, one eyebrow raised as he glared down at her, rubbing his arm where her sharp little knuckles had made contact.
Rukia mumbled something, her face as red as Renji had ever seen it, and then she made a concerted and valiant (and totally unsuccessful) attempt to look anywhere but where she’d been looking.
“What was that?” he wheedled, dropping an arm around her shoulders and leaning heavily against her in an attempt to be as obnoxious as possible. Again, she mumbled, and again his fingers found their way to her ribs, poking, prodding, tickling, pinching, and generally making a nuisance of themselves.
“It’s the pants!” she finally exploded, breathless with laughter. “It’s those damn pants, and the narrow hips, and the cute little ass, and-“
“Oh geez,” Renji muttered, releasing her and shoving her away all in the same motion. “I wish I’d never asked.”
“It’s not my fault!” she maintained, tugging his sleeve placatingly.
“Of course not,” he countered, shoving her away again. “It’s Kurosaki’s, for not wearing baggier pants.”
“You have to admit,” Rukia cajoled, hand unmoving on his sleeve as her gaze returned to Ichigo’s…. pants. “He looks good in those pants.”
He snickered. “No I don’t.”
“But he does. Admit it.”
“No.”
“Renji-“
“I said no, damnit!”
Silence greeted him, along with a look that was half “You liar!” and half “I’m right and you know it, you stubborn ass!”
Renji bit back a growl, and slowly - so slowly it was almost funny - let his eyes wander in Ichigo’s direction. They settled, just for a second, before darting away to stare accusingly at the patch of grass beside him.
“All right, fine,” he admitted grudgingly. “He looks good in the pants.”
Rukia stared at him for a moment, before breaking into hysterical laughter. “You perv,” she gasped out before falling backwards to curl up on the grass under the onslaught of her laughter.
Renji swore.