Fic: Downtime (Bleach, Shiba couple+ Rukia, R.)
To: chirachira, dosetsu, and Aaron. FINE FINE FINE. I WROTE IT. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW.
To everyone else, I am so sorry. Warnings for: m/f/f. general badness. Also random Shinigami dumbassery to top it all off.
To one Kuchiki Rukia: ...er. Happy birthday.
“You don’t need to be so formal...” Rukia rubbed her elbow as she dragged her feet on the walkway. She didn’t dare start fiddling with her sword hilt for reassurances. That was the sort of thing that got one’s rear kicked in academy and these things hadn’t quite left her yet.
“It’s no wonder Lady Rukia was good enough for the Kuchiki. That was impressive, it really was.”
“I don’t think--”
The man gave her a smack on the shoulder with a savage gleam in his eyes. She stumbled forward a few steps. Behind them his friend chuckled. “…and so thoughtful too. Really no need to be modest. None of us are Kuchiki after all--”
… they’re making fun of me, thought Rukia morosely. “Thank you,” she said brusquely, determined to make an end of it. She stopped in front of the doors to the baths. “I’ll take my leave.”
They weren’t done with her. The first’s eyes followed the new line of her feet to her destination quite gleefully. “Ah. That. Well. Yes, I guess the new squad leader would need that, after such hard work! I was thinking of it myself, but, aaaah, ladies first--”
Rukia pressed her lips together. Hard. “Thank you.” She said again, stiffly, and pushed open the doors.
After she had gone the second man on the walkway gave him a look. “Sucking up to the nobles, eh?” he said.
“Well.”
“’Ladies first’, eh?”
“Well.”
“And thinking of taking a wash.” The friend gave an impressed whistle. “Aikawa. When the hell do you bathe!”
“Hey, shaddup, it happens. Just not now.” He considered, jumping the railing of the walk way in favor of the wet dirt that generally characterized any grounds near the main division complex and the lake. “Sure as hell not now.”
His friend followed. “What are you thinking.”
“Didn’tcha hear back there? Vice-Captain Shiba let the fourth squadron outta that meeting twenty, thirty minutes ago.”
“Ah?”
“And. Former Vice-Captain Shiba just got back from a mission.”
“Aaah.”
“Place your bets?”
“What the hell, I’m in.”
‘Honored Brother,’ Rukia could hear herself recite, clear and well enunciated, kneeling in the clan head’s study. ‘I am the division’s new favorite joke.’
No, she really couldn’t imagine that report going over too well.
Sighing, Rukia took her time peeling out of her uniform. It felt stiff and scratchy against her skin, and she was eager to be rid of it. She wished she’d bothered to make a stop off at her quarters first. It would’ve been nice to have grabbed her bath things, and a nice soft yukata to wear. Instead she stood in front of one of the long mirrors in her freshly battle-met under-kimono and felt horribly ragged-more so than she had in years, and this startled her.
I am not bothered. she thought as she pulled her hair up. There wasn’t much to gather, though of late she’d considered growing it long. I am not bothered in the slightest. Why should I be. It’s beneath me to be bothered. The idea of I, Kuchiki Rukia, being bothered is absolutely the most ridiculous thing in the….
She found her forehead pressed against the mirror. “You’re being foolish,” she informed herself, composed herself, and measured her steps on her way out of the dressing rooms. She was gathering courage for what, exactly? A bath? Ah, but she was being foolish. That one stubborn strand of hair wouldn’t keep out of her eyes. She gave it a flick before she pressed open the doors.
In hindsight, if she’d been paying less attention to her hair at that particular moment she may have realized sooner that the baths were already occupied. Hair fell back into her eyes. She didn’t swat it again.
She hadn’t heard the vice-captain had returned.
Or that has wife had as well, for that matter. But they had, obviously. And obviously under the circumstances the most obvious of obvious courses of actions was to take the much needed time to unwind, as they were very busy people, being who they were and. and…
Shiba Kaien’s back was bare and wet. The skin shone slightly with the taut movements of his shoulder blades. One long fingered hand curled over his wife’s hip. The skin of it seemed tanned in comparison, resting there. He shifted his wrist, and Rukia could see the movement shiver through the back of his arm.
They were by the edge. He hadn’t bothered undressing all the way, the top part of his uniform looking as though it had been peeled off of him, spread half sodden beneath them and very much forgotten. The woman’s hands were folded over his shoulders. The lady Shiba had no such problems with impatience-- nor had she ever. Soaked, her black hair hanging heavily around her face; she was a sleek, comfortable creature in her nudity, draped over his lap. Her legs were startlingly long. A flush spread even and dark over her cheeks and throat-her expression was one of a lazy, dignified enjoyment. Her palms sliding over his skin approvingly, his face tucked under her neck, and her eyes half lidded at the wet sounds that came from it. The water lapped at them. Kaien laughed: it was a low, gravely, slurred noise as his lips dropped lower.
The sound felt to Rukia like the hot tail of a firework making its path in the pit of her stomach. Aching and horribly awkward. ‘I’m sorry.’ she could hear herself recite. ‘I didn’t know. Ah. I’ll go now.’ …couldn’t even keep the falter out of her mind. She stepped back, meaning to take a coward’s leave. Her heel banged against the doorframe. The lady’s eyelids flickered and met her gaze from across the stretch of floor. Her eyes were black, even blacker than her hair. Rukia thought they were beautiful, and had never wished more for a swift, clean death.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed out. “I didn’t. I didn’t think--”
The wet noises stopped. “Hmm?” Kaien rumbled, craning his head back for a muzzy look. Green eyes dull with obvious distraction. He looked perplexed. His wife kindly pressed a hand to his face and turned it back towards her.
“Rukia.” she said, with a surprising coolness. “Would you bring me my towel.” She nodded to the left, where her clothes and the object in question were neatly folded.
Rukia breathed out miserably. “…yes.” She bowed and obeyed. The lady dropped her head to murmur something into her husband’s hair, extending her arm as the young woman shuffled to her.
“Thank you, Rukia,” she said evenly; then just as evenly caught her by the chin and leaned over the man’s shoulder to kiss her.
There was heat in it. So much Rukia gasped, and for all of the woman’s famed patience her tongue went by no such reputation. It happened fast, so fast the she could do nothing but press back in clumsy answer. Hard. Desperate. Wanting. Wanting-and the lady smiled and withdrew, with their lips still touching, Rukia could feel it the very curve of it.
“…I thought so,” the woman murmured. “…but you’re shaking.”
She was. Very strongly. She wondered how she was still standing. “…forgive me.”
Kaien gave a snort. His laugh was more like a bark, clipped and deep throated. “Oi, Rukia. Don’t apologize for stupid things--”
“Shh, you.” His wife scolded mildly, she brought her hips down heavily and he grunted. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders for balance and slid her hand behind Rukia’s head, the balls of her finger rubbing the back of her neck in a way that made her whimper softly. “You. Will frighten her.”
“…hey, hey. Princess,” He husked into her collarbone. “Give her a bit more credit will you?”
“Ah,” she said, as his lips began to move again. “…ah, yes. Of course. You’re right,” her eyes lifted again, her touch ghosting under Rukia’s left eye. “Rukia.” she said with a smile, her fingers slipping down her neck. “Are you frightened?”
“No, lady.” Rukia whispered and then squeaked as the hand slid beneath the cloth covering her breasts. It was the woman who laughed then, a lighter, more elegant sound certainly; still no less honest than her husband’s and not at all unkind.
“Good,” she said, rolling the folds of cloth over Rukia’s narrow shoulders. “I’m glad,” she said, and pulled.
It was close to dusk, and four men were playing dice games under the swinging lamps.
“Gentleman,” one was saying. “Pleasure doing business with you. But I’m thinking I’ll have to be relieving you of all this pesky money--”
“Yeah well,” said Aikawa bitterly.
“Not your night is it,” his friend noted.
“Quiet,” he was growling when he heard footsteps. Gambling was illegal on patrol hours-- it was a well known fact that higher officers reserved the rights to clean out subordinates of all their pocket change in one fell swoop. They shoved their earnings (or lack thereof) under their knees. Aikawa’s eyes brightened. “Ah, lady Rukia!”
The others looked up with interest now.
The young squad leader was just rounding the corner, carrying her sandals in one hand. She froze, eyes wide. “…oh,” she said after a moment, mouth tightening. “Good evening.” She ducked her head.
“Good evening.”
“Hey.”
“Evening!”
“Have a nice bath?” Aikawa’s voice drifted over the chorus in a lazy drawl.
The young squad leader folded her arms around herself very quickly at that. “What. That--” she stuck her chin up, a good bit of red already well established in her cheeks. Her gaze hardened. “…Is none of your business,” she said very brusquely, and went on her way.
There was a long pause.
“Well?” Aikawa waited.
“She ran.”
“She ran.”
“She ran,” his friend agreed. He sighed. “Well, it was worth a wonder.”
“Dirty minded bastard,” it was agreed in return, with a laugh and a playful shove. “Pay up. And thank god for Kuchiki prudes. What the hell else were you expecting.” The night was beginning to look up.
To everyone else, I am so sorry. Warnings for: m/f/f. general badness. Also random Shinigami dumbassery to top it all off.
To one Kuchiki Rukia: ...er. Happy birthday.
“You don’t need to be so formal...” Rukia rubbed her elbow as she dragged her feet on the walkway. She didn’t dare start fiddling with her sword hilt for reassurances. That was the sort of thing that got one’s rear kicked in academy and these things hadn’t quite left her yet.
“It’s no wonder Lady Rukia was good enough for the Kuchiki. That was impressive, it really was.”
“I don’t think--”
The man gave her a smack on the shoulder with a savage gleam in his eyes. She stumbled forward a few steps. Behind them his friend chuckled. “…and so thoughtful too. Really no need to be modest. None of us are Kuchiki after all--”
… they’re making fun of me, thought Rukia morosely. “Thank you,” she said brusquely, determined to make an end of it. She stopped in front of the doors to the baths. “I’ll take my leave.”
They weren’t done with her. The first’s eyes followed the new line of her feet to her destination quite gleefully. “Ah. That. Well. Yes, I guess the new squad leader would need that, after such hard work! I was thinking of it myself, but, aaaah, ladies first--”
Rukia pressed her lips together. Hard. “Thank you.” She said again, stiffly, and pushed open the doors.
After she had gone the second man on the walkway gave him a look. “Sucking up to the nobles, eh?” he said.
“Well.”
“’Ladies first’, eh?”
“Well.”
“And thinking of taking a wash.” The friend gave an impressed whistle. “Aikawa. When the hell do you bathe!”
“Hey, shaddup, it happens. Just not now.” He considered, jumping the railing of the walk way in favor of the wet dirt that generally characterized any grounds near the main division complex and the lake. “Sure as hell not now.”
His friend followed. “What are you thinking.”
“Didn’tcha hear back there? Vice-Captain Shiba let the fourth squadron outta that meeting twenty, thirty minutes ago.”
“Ah?”
“And. Former Vice-Captain Shiba just got back from a mission.”
“Aaah.”
“Place your bets?”
“What the hell, I’m in.”
‘Honored Brother,’ Rukia could hear herself recite, clear and well enunciated, kneeling in the clan head’s study. ‘I am the division’s new favorite joke.’
No, she really couldn’t imagine that report going over too well.
Sighing, Rukia took her time peeling out of her uniform. It felt stiff and scratchy against her skin, and she was eager to be rid of it. She wished she’d bothered to make a stop off at her quarters first. It would’ve been nice to have grabbed her bath things, and a nice soft yukata to wear. Instead she stood in front of one of the long mirrors in her freshly battle-met under-kimono and felt horribly ragged-more so than she had in years, and this startled her.
I am not bothered. she thought as she pulled her hair up. There wasn’t much to gather, though of late she’d considered growing it long. I am not bothered in the slightest. Why should I be. It’s beneath me to be bothered. The idea of I, Kuchiki Rukia, being bothered is absolutely the most ridiculous thing in the….
She found her forehead pressed against the mirror. “You’re being foolish,” she informed herself, composed herself, and measured her steps on her way out of the dressing rooms. She was gathering courage for what, exactly? A bath? Ah, but she was being foolish. That one stubborn strand of hair wouldn’t keep out of her eyes. She gave it a flick before she pressed open the doors.
In hindsight, if she’d been paying less attention to her hair at that particular moment she may have realized sooner that the baths were already occupied. Hair fell back into her eyes. She didn’t swat it again.
She hadn’t heard the vice-captain had returned.
Or that has wife had as well, for that matter. But they had, obviously. And obviously under the circumstances the most obvious of obvious courses of actions was to take the much needed time to unwind, as they were very busy people, being who they were and. and…
Shiba Kaien’s back was bare and wet. The skin shone slightly with the taut movements of his shoulder blades. One long fingered hand curled over his wife’s hip. The skin of it seemed tanned in comparison, resting there. He shifted his wrist, and Rukia could see the movement shiver through the back of his arm.
They were by the edge. He hadn’t bothered undressing all the way, the top part of his uniform looking as though it had been peeled off of him, spread half sodden beneath them and very much forgotten. The woman’s hands were folded over his shoulders. The lady Shiba had no such problems with impatience-- nor had she ever. Soaked, her black hair hanging heavily around her face; she was a sleek, comfortable creature in her nudity, draped over his lap. Her legs were startlingly long. A flush spread even and dark over her cheeks and throat-her expression was one of a lazy, dignified enjoyment. Her palms sliding over his skin approvingly, his face tucked under her neck, and her eyes half lidded at the wet sounds that came from it. The water lapped at them. Kaien laughed: it was a low, gravely, slurred noise as his lips dropped lower.
The sound felt to Rukia like the hot tail of a firework making its path in the pit of her stomach. Aching and horribly awkward. ‘I’m sorry.’ she could hear herself recite. ‘I didn’t know. Ah. I’ll go now.’ …couldn’t even keep the falter out of her mind. She stepped back, meaning to take a coward’s leave. Her heel banged against the doorframe. The lady’s eyelids flickered and met her gaze from across the stretch of floor. Her eyes were black, even blacker than her hair. Rukia thought they were beautiful, and had never wished more for a swift, clean death.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed out. “I didn’t. I didn’t think--”
The wet noises stopped. “Hmm?” Kaien rumbled, craning his head back for a muzzy look. Green eyes dull with obvious distraction. He looked perplexed. His wife kindly pressed a hand to his face and turned it back towards her.
“Rukia.” she said, with a surprising coolness. “Would you bring me my towel.” She nodded to the left, where her clothes and the object in question were neatly folded.
Rukia breathed out miserably. “…yes.” She bowed and obeyed. The lady dropped her head to murmur something into her husband’s hair, extending her arm as the young woman shuffled to her.
“Thank you, Rukia,” she said evenly; then just as evenly caught her by the chin and leaned over the man’s shoulder to kiss her.
There was heat in it. So much Rukia gasped, and for all of the woman’s famed patience her tongue went by no such reputation. It happened fast, so fast the she could do nothing but press back in clumsy answer. Hard. Desperate. Wanting. Wanting-and the lady smiled and withdrew, with their lips still touching, Rukia could feel it the very curve of it.
“…I thought so,” the woman murmured. “…but you’re shaking.”
She was. Very strongly. She wondered how she was still standing. “…forgive me.”
Kaien gave a snort. His laugh was more like a bark, clipped and deep throated. “Oi, Rukia. Don’t apologize for stupid things--”
“Shh, you.” His wife scolded mildly, she brought her hips down heavily and he grunted. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders for balance and slid her hand behind Rukia’s head, the balls of her finger rubbing the back of her neck in a way that made her whimper softly. “You. Will frighten her.”
“…hey, hey. Princess,” He husked into her collarbone. “Give her a bit more credit will you?”
“Ah,” she said, as his lips began to move again. “…ah, yes. Of course. You’re right,” her eyes lifted again, her touch ghosting under Rukia’s left eye. “Rukia.” she said with a smile, her fingers slipping down her neck. “Are you frightened?”
“No, lady.” Rukia whispered and then squeaked as the hand slid beneath the cloth covering her breasts. It was the woman who laughed then, a lighter, more elegant sound certainly; still no less honest than her husband’s and not at all unkind.
“Good,” she said, rolling the folds of cloth over Rukia’s narrow shoulders. “I’m glad,” she said, and pulled.
It was close to dusk, and four men were playing dice games under the swinging lamps.
“Gentleman,” one was saying. “Pleasure doing business with you. But I’m thinking I’ll have to be relieving you of all this pesky money--”
“Yeah well,” said Aikawa bitterly.
“Not your night is it,” his friend noted.
“Quiet,” he was growling when he heard footsteps. Gambling was illegal on patrol hours-- it was a well known fact that higher officers reserved the rights to clean out subordinates of all their pocket change in one fell swoop. They shoved their earnings (or lack thereof) under their knees. Aikawa’s eyes brightened. “Ah, lady Rukia!”
The others looked up with interest now.
The young squad leader was just rounding the corner, carrying her sandals in one hand. She froze, eyes wide. “…oh,” she said after a moment, mouth tightening. “Good evening.” She ducked her head.
“Good evening.”
“Hey.”
“Evening!”
“Have a nice bath?” Aikawa’s voice drifted over the chorus in a lazy drawl.
The young squad leader folded her arms around herself very quickly at that. “What. That--” she stuck her chin up, a good bit of red already well established in her cheeks. Her gaze hardened. “…Is none of your business,” she said very brusquely, and went on her way.
There was a long pause.
“Well?” Aikawa waited.
“She ran.”
“She ran.”
“She ran,” his friend agreed. He sighed. “Well, it was worth a wonder.”
“Dirty minded bastard,” it was agreed in return, with a laugh and a playful shove. “Pay up. And thank god for Kuchiki prudes. What the hell else were you expecting.” The night was beginning to look up.