Windswept
'Nother one for 30_kisses, I think I'm being real productive with these because I'm all excited about getting to put them in order and post them all up together. XD. Completion whore, yup that's me. Anyways, here's the next one, if you want a timeline, it's a few days ahead of the last one I did, Vitamin Shock.
Title: Day 14 - Windswept
Genre: Romance/Slice-of-Life
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: IchiRuki
Rating: PG
Theme: #29: the sound of waves
“Ichigo, come on! Stop being so slow for once.”
With a muttered growl of irritation and a roll of brown eyes, Ichigo hefted the bag he had slung over his shoulder and wondered for what had to be the umpteenth time why he had let the short girl skipping along - yes she was skipping, as creepy as that somehow seemed to him - talk him into this “date” thing. Ok, so sure they were a couple now, had been for two weeks. Two weeks exactly, as Rukia had reminded him in that oh-so-cheery sing-song voice that always meant she was plotting something.
Ichico hated that voice. Not only because it reminded him so much of the fake one she used at school when she was pretending to be something she wasn’t, but because that saccharine smile and sweet tone nearly always ended up with the same outcome. Which was Ichigo in some sort of situation that he didn’t want to be in, usually catering to the whims of a certain petite shinigami. Situations like these.
Setting his face back into it’s characteristic scowl, he sighed and shifted the bag again before yelling after her. “Oi Rukia! Quit it with the damned skipping, it’s fuckin creepy.”
And true to form, she stopped, turned around to glare at him and stick her tongue out in that somehow endearing way that made him struggle to decide whether he’d rather grab the offending pink muscle with his fingertips or his lips, but whichever was the answer it always elicited a growl of frustration from him. Especially as she just turned back around and commenced with the skipping again. Like usual.
He was being slow. He was always slow, and Rukia sometimes wondered if he did it just to be contrary, just to piss her off or aggravate her. Honestly, she wouldn’t have put it past her orange-haired boyfriend - boyfriend, could she ever get used to thinking of him that way? - to have done just that. He got a sadistic kick out of frustrating her, which was the whole reason why it was so much fun to turn around and snidely remark on how he must be the sort who got off on being bossed around by a woman.
Turning around to walk backwards, skirt blowing around her legs in the light breeze, she stuck her tongue out at him again with a scowl. “Then don’t be so damned slow!”
It had been two weeks, two weeks exactly, that was fourteen days, since he’d first kissed her, since they’d first admitted to each other how deep the feelings they carried for one another went. She hadn’t really thought much of it until she’d found herself pounced on by the girls at school, asking what she was doing for their “two-week anniversary”. And when her perplexed response - being something along the lines of “Hrn?” and a blank stare with the sandwich half in her mouth - had been that she had no idea what they were talking about, the small shinigami had found herself subjected to a crash-course in “proper dating” - which was apparently something human women knew all about.
Ichigo, on the other hand, had taken it with slightly less grace, if a response of scowling and declaring that “stupid sappy crap” could really be counted as graceful at all. That, of course, had been swiftly remedied by the application of heel to foot and toe to shin before she’d stalked off and declared that he could “eat his lunch alone if he was going to be like that”. And while he’d initially balked at the fact that she could control his actions that way, it didn’t change the fact that a few minutes later he came running after her, demanding that she stop acting like a bitch. Typical Ichigo.
Skulking along, bag hanging over his shoulder and watching the sky - when he wasn’t watching Rukia - Ichigo let out a loud yelp as he nearly tripped right over her petite form, honed reflexes quickly helping him right himself before her elbow could impact with his ribs in stubborn outrage that he’d actually crashed into her.
“What the hell?! Why’d you stop?”
“Because we’re here, moron.”
Oh. Well then… that made sense. Clearing his throat to attempt to gain some composure - it was the beach, for Christ’s sake, how did he miss the beach? - the orange-haired shinigami glanced around, one hand going to the back of his head. “So, uh…. Pick a spot, I guess.”
Thank god the beach was fairly deserted this time in the morning, the only real sound that of the surf crashing against the sand and sliding slowly back out to sea. As much as he was getting used to the idea of being “attached”, as his friends seemed wont to describe it, that didn’t mean he wanted the entire school to see him, Kurosaki Ichigo, having what all the girls would coo over as “a romantic picnic on the beach”. God, what was with girls, couldn’t they just celebrate something with a card or something? And now they’d gotten ahold of Rukia, filled her head with all that crap so that she dragged him out here to celebrate the fact that they’d been together - really together, not just in the same place - for fourteen days. Seriously, what was so important about 2 weeks?
He could have understood a year. Really, that was kind of an accomplishment, and though he’d strangle anyone who suggested it, he actually didn’t mind normal anniversaries. But… this wasn’t a normal one, this was one of those freaky weird ones girls invented as an excuse to demand things they ought not to have. Or at least, that’s what he told himself as he grumbled under his breath when she ran off down the sand instead of just picking a spot like he’d told her to. Girls were like that, though. At least, he was getting to feel that they were.
Growling slightly as she left him to do all the work, he ignored her repeated calls of his name until nerves kinked enough to send his head snapping up, snarled response of “what” dying on his lips as suddenly as it arose, eyes widening slightly and mouth going dry.
It wasn’t really anything that unusual to see someone twirling their way around the beach, the surf kissing their toes as they moved, but something about the way it looked when Rukia did it. The way the sea breeze blew her light sundress against her slight form, bare feet making small indentations in the sand as she laughed and spun, black hair blowing away from her face as the sound of the waves mingled with the tinkling laughter cascading up from her throat.
Swallowing hard, he just stared. He’d forgotten, for a moment, that she’d never really been to the beach, not like this. The only times they’d ever been had been on shinigami business. Never just for pleasure, for the sheer enjoyment of it, the rapture that was painted on her face. It was times like these, when he was watching her - he was always watching her, really, just sometimes more than others - that he couldn’t deny, even to himself, that he thought she was beautiful, perfect, so much more than he’d ever have thought he deserved. Everything about her, from porcelain skin to raven-black hair and those big violet eyes that could change so quickly from warm and soft when she curled up against him at night to angry and dangerous when he’d ruin the tender moment by teasing her about still stealing his sisters’ pajamas at night, was perfect.
Broken out of his reverie by her shrill voice once again demanding his attention, he simply stared for a moment as she angrily stamped her foot - dammit, and she was even beautiful when she was mad at him - and once again demanded something. Oh. She wanted him to go frolick in the waves too. Frowning, he opened his mouth to protest, to argue against such ridiculous activities and remind her that Kurosaki Ichigo did no such thing, but then she was doing that twirling thing again and he found himself staring for another moment or two before he simply sighed and buried his hands in his pockets before loping after her, the faint ghost of a smile curving his lips as he just followed, watching her and mentally filing away “made-up celebrations” under that new list in his mind of “Things to Tolerate for Rukia”.
X-posted to about 10 other places.
Title: Day 14 - Windswept
Genre: Romance/Slice-of-Life
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: IchiRuki
Rating: PG
Theme: #29: the sound of waves
“Ichigo, come on! Stop being so slow for once.”
With a muttered growl of irritation and a roll of brown eyes, Ichigo hefted the bag he had slung over his shoulder and wondered for what had to be the umpteenth time why he had let the short girl skipping along - yes she was skipping, as creepy as that somehow seemed to him - talk him into this “date” thing. Ok, so sure they were a couple now, had been for two weeks. Two weeks exactly, as Rukia had reminded him in that oh-so-cheery sing-song voice that always meant she was plotting something.
Ichico hated that voice. Not only because it reminded him so much of the fake one she used at school when she was pretending to be something she wasn’t, but because that saccharine smile and sweet tone nearly always ended up with the same outcome. Which was Ichigo in some sort of situation that he didn’t want to be in, usually catering to the whims of a certain petite shinigami. Situations like these.
Setting his face back into it’s characteristic scowl, he sighed and shifted the bag again before yelling after her. “Oi Rukia! Quit it with the damned skipping, it’s fuckin creepy.”
And true to form, she stopped, turned around to glare at him and stick her tongue out in that somehow endearing way that made him struggle to decide whether he’d rather grab the offending pink muscle with his fingertips or his lips, but whichever was the answer it always elicited a growl of frustration from him. Especially as she just turned back around and commenced with the skipping again. Like usual.
He was being slow. He was always slow, and Rukia sometimes wondered if he did it just to be contrary, just to piss her off or aggravate her. Honestly, she wouldn’t have put it past her orange-haired boyfriend - boyfriend, could she ever get used to thinking of him that way? - to have done just that. He got a sadistic kick out of frustrating her, which was the whole reason why it was so much fun to turn around and snidely remark on how he must be the sort who got off on being bossed around by a woman.
Turning around to walk backwards, skirt blowing around her legs in the light breeze, she stuck her tongue out at him again with a scowl. “Then don’t be so damned slow!”
It had been two weeks, two weeks exactly, that was fourteen days, since he’d first kissed her, since they’d first admitted to each other how deep the feelings they carried for one another went. She hadn’t really thought much of it until she’d found herself pounced on by the girls at school, asking what she was doing for their “two-week anniversary”. And when her perplexed response - being something along the lines of “Hrn?” and a blank stare with the sandwich half in her mouth - had been that she had no idea what they were talking about, the small shinigami had found herself subjected to a crash-course in “proper dating” - which was apparently something human women knew all about.
Ichigo, on the other hand, had taken it with slightly less grace, if a response of scowling and declaring that “stupid sappy crap” could really be counted as graceful at all. That, of course, had been swiftly remedied by the application of heel to foot and toe to shin before she’d stalked off and declared that he could “eat his lunch alone if he was going to be like that”. And while he’d initially balked at the fact that she could control his actions that way, it didn’t change the fact that a few minutes later he came running after her, demanding that she stop acting like a bitch. Typical Ichigo.
Skulking along, bag hanging over his shoulder and watching the sky - when he wasn’t watching Rukia - Ichigo let out a loud yelp as he nearly tripped right over her petite form, honed reflexes quickly helping him right himself before her elbow could impact with his ribs in stubborn outrage that he’d actually crashed into her.
“What the hell?! Why’d you stop?”
“Because we’re here, moron.”
Oh. Well then… that made sense. Clearing his throat to attempt to gain some composure - it was the beach, for Christ’s sake, how did he miss the beach? - the orange-haired shinigami glanced around, one hand going to the back of his head. “So, uh…. Pick a spot, I guess.”
Thank god the beach was fairly deserted this time in the morning, the only real sound that of the surf crashing against the sand and sliding slowly back out to sea. As much as he was getting used to the idea of being “attached”, as his friends seemed wont to describe it, that didn’t mean he wanted the entire school to see him, Kurosaki Ichigo, having what all the girls would coo over as “a romantic picnic on the beach”. God, what was with girls, couldn’t they just celebrate something with a card or something? And now they’d gotten ahold of Rukia, filled her head with all that crap so that she dragged him out here to celebrate the fact that they’d been together - really together, not just in the same place - for fourteen days. Seriously, what was so important about 2 weeks?
He could have understood a year. Really, that was kind of an accomplishment, and though he’d strangle anyone who suggested it, he actually didn’t mind normal anniversaries. But… this wasn’t a normal one, this was one of those freaky weird ones girls invented as an excuse to demand things they ought not to have. Or at least, that’s what he told himself as he grumbled under his breath when she ran off down the sand instead of just picking a spot like he’d told her to. Girls were like that, though. At least, he was getting to feel that they were.
Growling slightly as she left him to do all the work, he ignored her repeated calls of his name until nerves kinked enough to send his head snapping up, snarled response of “what” dying on his lips as suddenly as it arose, eyes widening slightly and mouth going dry.
It wasn’t really anything that unusual to see someone twirling their way around the beach, the surf kissing their toes as they moved, but something about the way it looked when Rukia did it. The way the sea breeze blew her light sundress against her slight form, bare feet making small indentations in the sand as she laughed and spun, black hair blowing away from her face as the sound of the waves mingled with the tinkling laughter cascading up from her throat.
Swallowing hard, he just stared. He’d forgotten, for a moment, that she’d never really been to the beach, not like this. The only times they’d ever been had been on shinigami business. Never just for pleasure, for the sheer enjoyment of it, the rapture that was painted on her face. It was times like these, when he was watching her - he was always watching her, really, just sometimes more than others - that he couldn’t deny, even to himself, that he thought she was beautiful, perfect, so much more than he’d ever have thought he deserved. Everything about her, from porcelain skin to raven-black hair and those big violet eyes that could change so quickly from warm and soft when she curled up against him at night to angry and dangerous when he’d ruin the tender moment by teasing her about still stealing his sisters’ pajamas at night, was perfect.
Broken out of his reverie by her shrill voice once again demanding his attention, he simply stared for a moment as she angrily stamped her foot - dammit, and she was even beautiful when she was mad at him - and once again demanded something. Oh. She wanted him to go frolick in the waves too. Frowning, he opened his mouth to protest, to argue against such ridiculous activities and remind her that Kurosaki Ichigo did no such thing, but then she was doing that twirling thing again and he found himself staring for another moment or two before he simply sighed and buried his hands in his pockets before loping after her, the faint ghost of a smile curving his lips as he just followed, watching her and mentally filing away “made-up celebrations” under that new list in his mind of “Things to Tolerate for Rukia”.
X-posted to about 10 other places.