[AIM log] [Ichigo + Rukia] [Complete] [Discursus]

[dramabunny]

[ Takes place the day after Ichigo and Renji go drinking, sooo -- sunday before last? No warnings. ]



Forcing Ichigo to make his way up the stairs to talk to her after a heavy night of drinking seemed to be becoming something of a tradition (penitence, maybe?), although on this occasion he had been allowed most of the day to recover. It may also have been beneficial that he had not been downing hard liquor nor woken up covered in quite possibly toxic marker pen. Still, she insisted he come up, feeling somehow more secure at being in her own rooms when there was a distinct possibility that this might turn into a talk.

Rukia was rather resigned to there being a series of talks, in fact. Byakuya's issues had been addressed last night, superficially if not entirely satisfactorily and Renji would come later. Once she had somehow established just what he had said in the night before. All she had managed to extract from between misplaced vowels and explanations that might as well have been written in dutch for all the sense they made was that there had been something about a threesome. Hardly a new theme on Ichigo's part, of course, but involving Renji? Yes.

And she had left him sitting on the couch for almost ten minutes now, vanishing into the kitchen to find something that could be approximated as 'dinner'. All out of microwavable ready meals, the end result amounted to a bag of chips (only slightly stale), purple peeps marshmallow bunnies, and an apple. The search had been long and wearying, the internal debate over sandwich fillings only ending when she realised they were out of jelly - which made peanut butter an implausible solution - and that the sliced cheese seemed to have grown mould. So, depositing her prizes without ceremony in Ichigo's lap, she flopped down onto the couch beside him, exhausted. "I just want to re-establish that you have no plans to throw up or pass out at any point this evening. You are fully recovered from your ordeal?"

There was a kind of pattern in this whole--you drink, we talk thing, and the last time he'd somehow gotten labelled boyfriend, pushed out a window, fallen off a fire escape, and somehow locked out of the building. This time, Ichigo had no intentions of falling to his doom (or emerging with some other strange label such as "slave" or "minion"). So, she'd been rather ominously quiet, and now with the quick dump of random foodstuffs on his lap (eww, what the hell?), he wondered where exactly this was leading.

What with the words exchanged the night previous? Anywhere.

Ichigo casually brushed the half open box of Peeps in Rukia's direction, eyed the apple (let it fall into the seat cushion beside him), and gently placed the bag of chips on the floor. While he was feeling pretty fine and good despite the drinking the night before, food, and especially not of this variety (and usually he wasn't picky either), didn't seem appetizing. Instead, he shifted slightly, tilting his head back so that the base of his neck lay over the top of the backrest, legs splayed and easy.

If he wasn't already directing his gaze toward the ceiling, he might've rolled his eyes. "Yeah..." The drawl trailed off in the words he couldn't quite find. Wow, awkward. "I'll talk to Byakuya, Rukia."

Rukia couldn't see how there was anything unappetising in what she had come up with, snack food was by definition appealing, it's artificial colourings and flavour enhancements made certain that anything organic could never compete. Though there was the apple, as the healthy option. She licked the sugar coating from a pair of purple ears and looked up at him. "I'm not sure that would be wise. I have spoken to him and he is no longer under any misleading impressions, now I think a cooling period may be advisable before the pair of you once again begin tending to the buds of your blossoming friendship."

Kneeling up on the couch cushions, she pressed a brief and slightly sticky kiss to his cheek before sliding back into her seat. "By which I mean that I am still determined that you will get along eventually, and I haven't even shouted at you yet, Ichigo, so do please stop looking as though you're enduring a lecture."

Chewing the marshmallow into nothing but a faint violet aftertaste and wondering if she was really that bad (Byakuya had also looked at some points like he would rather be chewing off his own toenails than talking to her -- it was not a flattering expression, particularly when she was trying to help), she crossed her arms around her waist. "Actually I was more concerned about what happened between you and Renji. It doesn't seem like one of your ordinary fights, there was much less namecalling."

Ichigo looked up at that, one orange eyebrow poised in a you-have-no-fucking-idea arch. "Oh, there was namecallin'," he offered blandly, grim line he'd pushed his lips into slanting down somehow. Corners tightening, maybe. "I didn't know you hadn't said anythin' to him, yanno." At her request, he slouched into a slightly more attentive position, half-lidded eyes at least glaring halfway in her direction rather than at the spiderweb of cracks in the ceiling. He idly swiped at the sticky residue on his cheek (she'd probably only kissed him because she could leave some sticky purple mark there) and wondered if it'd be noticeable. At least he could get the purple granules off.

"Let's just say he seemd a little surprised, alright?" That was maybe an understatement. Although Ichigo was fairly certain he'd still be on good terms with the other, equally loud redhead, what he couldn't put his finger on was whether Renji'd gotten all worked up because of the alcohol, or if the alcohol had dulled some potentially ass-kicking reaction.

"Surprised." Rukia echoed, as though she could somehow sound more sagely by repeating the information just given. Mostly she felt awkward at knowing they had been talking about her while out of her presence, leaving no way of controlling what might have been said. It would be easier if people only existed while in direct contact with Rukia, their lives became more difficult to deal with when allowed to stray beyond her reach. She didn't like not knowing things. "I did mean to tell him, but for goodness sake, Ichigo, people I swear I've never said one word to before were suddenly remarking on it -- us, and that was a little harder to comprehend. I suppose I assumed that if they noticed, he had noticed too, and nothing had changed."

Nothing should change, so far as she was concerned. Obviously there was the fact that her friendship with Ichigo had become something more, but it didn't alter anything in the way she saw Renji. The idea that it might be the way he saw them that was cause for concern hadn't occurred. Or had been carefully buried as she hoped for the best.

This particular scenario, however, she could honestly say had never even crossed her mind. "So you told him, at which point he suggested a threesome?"

He leaned pointedly away, just slightly, until he thought his face was out of the range of her short arms. "I think I suggested it," here, he touched his tongue to the flat edge of his top incisors and attempted to force down the ridiculous warmth he felt creeping up his neck, "but I didn't mean it and I was pretty drunk by that point. Can't remember if he agreed or not, but..." Matter of fact. And from there on, he didn't really offer anymore. There were certain things one kept between men, and that definitely included drunken discussions about one's girlfriend She'd already had enough of his uncertainty to deal with.

What he didn't want to explain was that he'd probably come up with the threesome idea not as some strange sexual device, but rather a twisted form of keeping everything neatly in order. The same. Keep the playing field level and round off their equation. Equilateral, rather than isosceles. It was hard not to think in triangles, especially when anyone probably could have told them they'd had one for years--trio, friendship. Something else? Maybe it never had been equilateral. Scalene? Ichigo shook his head, eyes closing briefly as though having a conversation with himself. He really didn't like that option.

Not wanting to think about what he had to close his eyes to picture, Rukia hoped it was merely a reaction to the fact that she was, by now, staring. Apparently this was just going to keep on getting better, "YOU suggested it?" the box of peeps slid unnoticed from her lap with a crumple of the plastic as she twisted round to sit at the very edge of the couch, away from him. "Oh, you were drunk and didn't mean it so it's quite all right for you to offer me out for sexual favours to our friends. Had you noticed that we haven't even had a twosome yet, Ichigo? And you don't remember if he said yes? Good GOD, no wonder he was angry."

She had been wondering at Renji, to say something like that. Yes he could be crude, but when it came to her it was always Ichigo who made the comments, over the top innuendo that she had until recently always dismissed. Of course Renji would never suggest anything of the sort! Here she had been, feeling sorry for Ichigo having to deal with entirely inappropriate suggestions from a friend and all the time -- she stood up before she could give in to the urge to punch him. Might as well let him dig the hole as deep as it got, first. "And what would you do if he HAD agreed? Were you going to mention anything to me at any point, or were you planning it as a surprise?"

Brow furrowed instantaneously, the near omnipresent wrinkle there that he'd just recently been trying to erase. "I wasn't offerin' you out at all," he protested, trying to stave off the hard edge slanting into his syllables, the inevitable raise in volume. "I WAS TRYING TO FIX THINGS." Oh, and there it went--he, swivelling around just enough to stare her down and measure the length of her disapproval. Was he going to have to start talking geometry?

Maybe Renji had been right. Jesus christ. "I had to know how he felt, Rukia." Jaw squared, muscle ticking just below one cheekbone. Of course he hadn't meant...he'd been drunk... And here again was that same sense of defeat, the sinking sensation that he was going to start drowning and lose all the lines he kept close. And those were few. At the time, he might've thought it some grand and fucked up solution for whatever the problem was, but the thought of Renji kissing her, touching her, fucking her... It took him a few seconds to realize he'd started grinding his teeth. Loudly.

Just take the fall for this one, Kurosaki. He'd apparently put Renji through enough as it was. Miserable bastard. Worthless. Not good enough. Second choice. Stand in. "I wouldn't let him touch you." Fine. He could play the possessive asshole. Fine.

Somewhere a buzzer chimed discordantly, the incredulous look in Rukia's eyes letting Ichigo know that he'd just struck out again. Uh-uh, wrong. "Renji is my friend," explained with the thinning patience of a mother addressing her recalcitrant child, "I don't plan on establishing a set distance between us just because you've suddenly developed a problem. What happened, Ichigo? There is no need to issue restraining orders on my behalf, particularly when it doesn't sound like there is anything to restrain in the first place, I..." she pushed her hands back through her hair, turning a full circle before facing him again, closing the distance, her looking down.

"I can decide for myself who I want to touch me and how, thank you."

Somewhere there was an explanation for this. It was possible that Ichigo was the only one it made sense to, but nevertheless it was rare to find him acting entirely without motive. That he was so adamantly contradicting himself now was an almost sure admittance of some middle ground that he didn't want to cover. Quieting, she tried a step in a different direction. "How did Renji feel?" Why would he be fixing things that weren't somehow broken?

"I mean touch you..." He literally bit the tip of his tongue just until it hurt bad. Ichigo backed up against the armrest, choking hard on the idea that he could just yell at her until maybe she understood. "Don't put words in my mouth, Rukia--you fuckin' know what I mean. I strike out either way here, huh? Oh, sure, yeah, I wouldn't be upset at all if he decided maybe he really did want to pin you to the wall--you'd be pissed about that too, wouldn't you?" Don't stand up. This wasn't one of those times he wanted to use his size to his advantage, but he felt pretty damn well backed into a corner (and what did threatened creatures do? lash out).

"I didn't tell him not to do anythin', and I ain't the one who's gotta problem. I thought he'd be fuckin' happy for me," he nearly snarled, "for you." And maybe Renji had been, but they'd both caught and tangled each other on words and syntax and misunderstood diction, and how the hell did you tell your best friend that you wanted him okay and happy with the idea that the balance between whatever triangle they had was shifting? Hey, that hot chick we've been taggin' along with all this time? Yeah. "Renji said," he said, fingers straying ahead enough to catch and hook into the hem of her shirt and tug, "that I ain't supposed to be screwin' my friends." Literally and figuratively. Eyes tight at the corners, not quite the little boy tugging on apron strings, he said "That you would've chose him in a second if he'd been around."

Fabric rubbing between his fingers, he let go and pushed himself to his feet in a slow, deliberate fashion. No startling. "No one seems to want to see this work." Except for you and me.

"But," her gaze stayed on his face, barely aware that her own had gone from tipped down to turned up to allow this, the motion lost in a series of rapid blinks, "But Ichigo, he lives downstairs."

That probably wasn't quite what was meant, and she of all people should have been able to grasp metaphor, but the fact remained that Renji was around. Had been around for just as long as Ichigo and she hoped, maybe somehow needed for that at least not to change. Still, "If I was trying to make a choice then I dare say I've had long enough to do so. This wasn't the result of my choosing, though, you're not shoes, or a candy bar, and I couldn't just pick another variety and be equally happy. Even if it isRenji." and this talk she needed to have with him was taking on an entirely new light.

If this was a triangle then it had never been her intent to place herself at the apex, but that was the point she seemed to have been raised to between them. Never comfortable putting herself above (a desire to which even nature had conceded, it seemed), there was also the small matter that without either of them, she could fall. Maybe they were scalene in the way they fit together, but she didn't see how the differences between them were a bad thing when they each had equal value in supporting the whole. Things would be very confusing if things were entirely equilateral, perhaps requiring the utilisation of his threesome suggestion and was that what he thought? "You're both important to me." hands clasped behind her back, she attempted to stand alone and wondered why she always thought she had been. "But differently. For example there is only one of you who has a say in whether this works."

Face still tight, muscles pulled taut, teeth clenched, he might've sighed and waved her over if he could have forced his exhalation between the fitted rows of enamel. "I don't need the lecture, Rukia." The point remained that whether or not whatever Renji said was true in some fashion, it was his door she pushed open sometimes, his bed she took up residency in. Ichigo wasn't at all mad at Renji, but rather frustrated at what they'd seemed to become in the span of a few drinks. He could have let it lie. Things were probably fine sober anyway but--no, she as their unofficial leader (by word capacity alone), had called a meeting. "You asked what happened, an' I'm tellin' you. We talked shit, I almost got put in a trash can. Nothin' really new."

Truth be told, he really didn't have that vicious streak of possessiveness he wanted to invoke right now, the one that'd scream she's mine--and that wasn't how he saw shit. Rukia wasn't anyone's; he'd known that from the first time he'd laid eyes on her. Wildfire. Please handle with caution. Cannot be contained. And here he was--flame retardant. This difference she was talking about--it was more than a difference. How wasn't it a choice? Ichigo really did sigh then, canting his head hard enough in one direction that the vertebrae cracked. Tension relief.

"You could just say my name, Rukia. Say it's me and not one of something," he tucked the flats of his palms into the back pockets of his jeans. "But I get what you're sayin'. I'll...just go downstairs now. Don't worry about nothin'. Got you in enough trouble already." Almost a smile, but it might have just been the fact his head was at a slight angle, giving the vague appearance of a smirk.

"I really do hate it when you try to dismiss yourself before I'm done." Resolutions were things tied off neatly at the end, words underlined twice with a ruler at the bottom of a page. Period. All that remained to be added was the glossary or bibliography or whatever was necessary to help the reader understand how they had arrived there. This was merely appeasement, and she loathed being placated by him. Sometimes the kicks she gave were only so he would fight back, fire with fire.

This was new to her, at least (not the trash can part, Renji did have the height advantage and it would not be the first time he had used it to deposit Ichigo in something unpleasant that left him gathering flies on the walk home), but having to re-establish how things fit. Still didn't know if the cause of the argument was because Renji wanted to be with her or simply thought that neither of them should - friends shouldn't screw friends, but if he'd been around... - either conclusion was unsettling, and again the thought of Orihime came up. A promise she wouldn't break, but she wondered how he'd feel. Rukia was cross with the girl, sometimes, for allowing him to hurt her unconsciously.

"And I told you, this isn't about what you said to Byakuya," she wouldn't get in to what he had said in return, the parts she had read, Ichigo should know how she felt with regards to that, "If anything it may have been helpful, I outlined where things stood to him, informed him of where things may go and he accepted it. As you said at one point, we cannot go on being afraid of each other." and she was quite aware that Byakuya feared Ichigo at least as much as the reverse.

Crossing to sit on the rolled arm of the couch, she caught his hand in passing and brought it with her (arm and Ichigo inevitably twisting to follow). Fisted her small hands around his fingers, making links between them. "Ichigo, did he say you weren't good enough, or was that your own decision, again? I need to know whose ass I have to kick hardest."

He hadn't quite been moving toward the door yet, just barely turned and hesitating, waiting for the stern goodbye (that never came, consequently). You haven't been dismissed. What was this, grammar school all over again? His face might have twisted into a scowl, set of his brow lowering, but she'd snagged him just before the twist of lips could be realized.That he didn't keep walking was something. She might have been strong for a pint sized chick, but not enough to hold him in place (there was something else, intangible that did that).

And so, seemingly staid by her hand he waited on her whim, footsteps automatically bringing him closer to the armrest and (by proxy), girl. This was strange--was still strange. Every half misplaced kiss, stolen glance, unexpected link of fingers gave him pause (amber eyes locked on her hands, as though he could memorize the texture by looking and not simply feeling)--seven years and now this (surreal). He'd said more to Byakuya than she could have realized; there'd been a deleted rush of commentary, confession--he'd been drunk enough to be ridiculously...honest? Maybe. He didn't want to think about the implications of what she didn't know right now. Being together and being together didn't seem to fall so neatly into place afterall (and whether or not Renji really cared, he could understand the jealousy). And talking to her about what he'd said seemed like selling him out.

Ichigo had to lay his opposite hand over hers (all callous and newly torn fingertips) before he could startle his glance back toward her face. Eyes. "Leave him alone, Rukia. He said it, but I surprised him an' he was just respondin' in the only way he knew how." If he'd told me the same thing, I woulda wrecked him.

He had a remarkable talent for hitting an already vulnerable spot, then (Rukia would almost have been impressed at a skill rivalling her own were she not so very annoyed by it).

"I think I have every right to at least talk to him, given that you two were talking about me. And maybe I need to know how he feels, as well. I will be gentle, if you insist." she brought their stacked hands to rest on her shoulder, setting her chin against the ridge of his knuckles as she considered how best to go about such a thing. "Perhaps if I explain that when there are two rabbits and only one hole it in no way prohibits the second bunny from digging a burrow of his own, which will perhaps be better for him or at least decorated to his personal tastes. They can be neighbours and perhaps visit each others h -- no that one isn't working. When there are two cats and only one saucer of milk..." no, they could share that, too. This was going to require further thought.

"I'm just sayin'," he started, coloring a strange shade of red as she tucked their hands neatly against her neck, atop her shoulder. He could take the innuendo, so much as it disarmed him, but this random (though clearly deliberate) tenderness (was that the right word? gentleness?) turned a slow knot inside his stomach. Kinda like the feeling just before freefall on a rollercoaster. Butterflies. Yeah. That, coupled by her sudden expressed interest in wanting to know how he felt sort of made him want to sick up. Why was that important? What really bothered him (Ichigo untangled the hand on top, fingers skimming in a barely conscious sweep across her neck until they rested on the opposite shoulder) was that he couldn't quite remember what Renji had thought. That he would've been the better choice, yeah, but if he didn't want her? Christ.

The bunnies derailed him again. "What. What--wait a sec, Rukia, bunnies and holes!?" His expression coalesced into a startled mesh of quizzical terror and an irritated tick above his eyebrows. "Who the fuck is the bunny, and who's the hole!? I really don't get what you're tryin' to say at all. Talk like someone fuckin' normal for once."

A pause. "Is this a new pickup line?"

Even Rukia had to take a moment to reflect on her own words before being repulsed by his interpretation. "Ichigo!" foot met shin swiftly, although the combination of her rubber soled gym shoes and the not too worn denim likely deflected most of the damage before it was done. The hand, on his hand, on her shoulder, remained in place - her chin lifted sharply to emphasise the exclamation. "Why would I want to describe myself as..." alright perhaps the wording could have been better, "I meant burrow! Warren. A place within which rabbits... Oh, just forget it, it is clearly beyond your comprehension. I can't help that you're an idiot."

He seemed securely in place, it was easy to let her hands slip and come to rest at his waist, thumbs hooked over the ridge his jeans made under cotton. Tried to think if there were any other matters that warranted raising (a few, but nothing she yet knew how to deal with), because if she couldn't think of an excuse to keep him here then she might have to ask, and that would never do. Why were people always casting sidelong glances at the door?

"Well... Aren't you going to kiss me?" eyebrows spiked into sharp arches, tone accusatory, like this was what he should have been doing from the outset. She ran her tongue along the inside arch of her teeth, checking to see whether her mouth was still purple-flavoured with the remnants of peeps.

Ichigo probably would have turned tail and tramped noisily down the stairs if she'd kicked any harder--but somehow the violence generally elicited a challenge-mode (as Tatsuki knew), and then with Rukia that translated into how-long-will-you-let-me-pin-you-down. Why did these talks always end up with makeouts on the couch? Kinda getting cliché. He bent, removed the non-tangled hand, and took hold of her knee (the one that'd helped along that kick) just as she anchored herself on his...pants.

Fingers grasped hard (not enough to bruise), slid up the lean muscle to midthigh (supposedly there was a nerve you could pinch around there to tickle, but he didn't feel like getting punted again). "A place within which bunnies...fuck like rabbits? I think you ain't quite followin' these metaphors all the way through anymore, Rukia."

Another lean in, acquiescing to her vertically challenged self (though the armrest buoyed her up a bit, even if he did have to straddle it). "So goddamn demandin'," he breathed against her cheek, left in a strange muddle of emotions (as per usual), and turned his head enough that he met her lips full on, his already just parted. "I can't even believe--" a little weight from his palm, pads of his fingers, just licking a sugar granule from her lip, "--you sometimes."

Rukia was not adverse to 'makeouts on the couch', cliche or not. However, had he expressed his feelings on the matter she would have pinpointed the occasions when what began as makeouts ended up as a talk, or that talks sometimes came sandwiched between other things, with makeouts intermittent. Then she would worry that they were getting into a rut. Magazines mentioned a great deal about ruts and other problems she was keen to avoid, most of which it was at least not necessary to worry about while at this level of intimacy (and she was assured there were many reassuring and non-pharmaceutical solutions, should anything go awry later).

Where were they? Near impossible to concentrate with his hand pushing her skirt up her thigh, multitasking somehow with lips... and tongue, and then words. Where was she supposed to focus?? Scattered fragments of information, at least one telling her she ought to be annoyed about something, but what? Well, this was Ichigo. Probably the words.

"Shut up." directed past his parted lips as she took advantage of the method he so often commented worked on her, caught fingers dragging at his hips, pulling one of them closer (didn't matter who). Kinetic learner as he said he was, preaching the truth in the suggestion that actions speak louder than words, it seemed this was one motion-pattern that needed repetition before he would ever learn his value. Contradictory words aside, she didn't know how to make it clearer.