Channel-surfing
So, about time I did something for my own community over at 20_blankets.
Title: Channel-surfing
Author: tasogaretaichou
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: IchiRuki
Theme: #3: Television/radio
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Bleach is, sadly, not mine. Were it mine, my OTPs would be canon. XD
Pulling the bucket of popcorn further into her lap, Rukia shoved one hand into the purloined blue plastic bowl, eyes glued to the screen in front of her as her other hand snatched up the remote. Channel 34, that was the one she was looking for. Settling backwards with a satisfied little squeal of glee, she curled her legs up underneath the convenient fleece blanket -- also purloined, though she was relatively certain that it's position at the end of the couch meant it was to be used thusly -- and crammed a handful of buttered goodness into her mouth with all the childish excitement of a 5-year old on Christmas morning as the bright Crayola colours flashed on the screen, accompanied by appropriately upbeat and -- Ichigo would have said idiotic -- childish music.
Not that she really cared. No, there wasn't much that she cared about right now other than the -- in Rukia's opinion -- nigh-magical fact that tonight, November 29th, at approximately 8 o'clock, one of the channels on the box -- she knew it was a TV, Ichigo had explained that to her months ago, but she still thought of it as a box -- was showing something wonderful. The Animated Adventures of Chappy and Friends. She'd seen the advertisement last month on a display in the toy store window as she'd walked past, and Ichigo had practically had to drag her away from it so they could get to school. Obviously, he seemed to have thought that she'd forget about it if it wasn't right in front of her.
Obviously, Ichigo was wrong.
Which, as far as she was concerned, was a normal and typical thing. Ichigo was always wrong, it wasn't like that was something to get all worked up over. Especially not considering the fact that her show was coming on. Practically trembling with anticipation, she shifted again, reaching for another fistful of popcorn.
Only... her hand hit empty space at about the same time the couch shifted with the impact of a larger form and a larger hand snagged the remote up off of the upholstery. She rounded on the interloper with an angry -- yet somewhat muffled, due to the popcorn -- squeal of outrage, her fist contacting with the side of Ichigo's head as she snatched it back. She'd get the popcorn back in a moment, but kicking him now would just result in the big oaf spilling it everywhere.
"Give that back, dumbass!"
Idiot. The hell did he think he was, just taking it like that. Especially when she was watching something. Giving him a dirty look, she carefully set the remote on the couch -- on the other side this time -- and yanked at the side of the blanket that he had so rudely decided to sit on.
"And get off my blanket."
Frowning, Ichigo returned the dirty look she threw at him in spades. Bossy midget, did she think she owned the damned couch? He could sit here if he wanted to. Besides, it wasn't like the blanket had her name on it. Not that he really cared all that much if she hogged it, it wasn't like he was really that cold. So it was only the pure and simple fact of being contrary that made him grip the edge and shove his feet underneath it, in spite of her protests to the contrary.
"Your name's not on it, midget. And gimme the remote, House is on."
House? The hell was that supposed to mean? The house was on? Raising an eyebrow -- there he was, making no sense again -- she shook her head, tugging on the blanket again. If he thought she was letting him change the channel, he had another thing coming.
"I was here first, and I don't care what house is on TV. I'm watching Chappy."
Her comment made him cringe, not just because of the fact that she was so ignorant of even the most basic of what he considered "normal" TV, but because if his guess was correct -- and he was rather certain it was -- that meant that should he remain here, he would be subjected to nearly 2 hours of pink and fluffy torment. Not a chance. Shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth with a scoff, he simply reached across her -- did she really think putting it there would do anything? -- and grabbed the remote, holding it out of reach of her grasping hands as he clicked the botton to change the channel. There. That was better.
Oh, he didn't. He did NOT just change her Chappy to some.... some bad-tempered man with a scruffy beard. Rukia didn't know what the show was, obviously it must have had something to do with this house thing he was talking about, but that was entirely beside the point. Popcorn forgotten, she groped for the remote, scowling as he held it out of her reach. Longer arms be damned, this was not a fight that she planned to lose. Definitely not with Chappy on the line.
Ichigo's rather pleasant -- he could ignore her complaining -- viewing of his favourite show was rather abruptly cut off by the impact of her small fist against his face as she used the sudden jarring to wrest the remote from his hands. With a muttered curse, he grappled back for it, the TV channel flickering wildly as two sets of fingers fought for dominance over the channel buttons. Within moments, their arguement had escalated, until any passerby to the living room would have been greeted with a view of a tangle of limbs and blanket, an upended bowl of popcorn abandoned on the floor, complete with a soundtrack of expletives and insults.
Somewhere between the foot that nearly hit him in the mouth, and the small set of fingers pulling on his hair hard enough to yank his head to the side, something clicked in Ichigo's head. Mostly, the fact that he -- despite her being far meaner and more likely to play dirty -- was plain and simply put, a good deal larger and stronger than her. Grinning to himself -- or as much as one could, when your lip was being smashed by an unforgiving palm, he wrestled the remote free and used his other hand to grab her wrists, pinning them over her head. Now at least he only had the feet to worry about.
With an outraged squeal, Rukia found herself pinned to the couch, arms over her head and Ichigo looming over her. Glaring up at him, she mentally calculated how much she'd have to bend in order to plant the sole of her left foot squarely in the center of that smug grin she could see beginning to spread across his features. Arrogant prat, she'd show him. Growling, she yanked at his grip, rotating shoulders just enough to lunge up, crashing her lips into his.
Startlement and shock flashed across his face as Ichigo froze, every fibre of his being focused on the sudden and unexpected feel of her soft lips pressed against his. Almost before the comprehension of the situation reached him, he was relaxing, kissing her back, eyes slipping closed. He hardly noticed her worm one hand free from his grip until she pulled away abruptly, snatching the silver rectangle out of his grasp. With a grin, she punched the channel button, and then sent the remote winging on an arcing course across the room to land with a small splash in the fishtank. Smugly licking her lips, she curled back up into the hollow of the couch. That would teach him.
Title: Channel-surfing
Author: tasogaretaichou
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: IchiRuki
Theme: #3: Television/radio
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Bleach is, sadly, not mine. Were it mine, my OTPs would be canon. XD
Pulling the bucket of popcorn further into her lap, Rukia shoved one hand into the purloined blue plastic bowl, eyes glued to the screen in front of her as her other hand snatched up the remote. Channel 34, that was the one she was looking for. Settling backwards with a satisfied little squeal of glee, she curled her legs up underneath the convenient fleece blanket -- also purloined, though she was relatively certain that it's position at the end of the couch meant it was to be used thusly -- and crammed a handful of buttered goodness into her mouth with all the childish excitement of a 5-year old on Christmas morning as the bright Crayola colours flashed on the screen, accompanied by appropriately upbeat and -- Ichigo would have said idiotic -- childish music.
Not that she really cared. No, there wasn't much that she cared about right now other than the -- in Rukia's opinion -- nigh-magical fact that tonight, November 29th, at approximately 8 o'clock, one of the channels on the box -- she knew it was a TV, Ichigo had explained that to her months ago, but she still thought of it as a box -- was showing something wonderful. The Animated Adventures of Chappy and Friends. She'd seen the advertisement last month on a display in the toy store window as she'd walked past, and Ichigo had practically had to drag her away from it so they could get to school. Obviously, he seemed to have thought that she'd forget about it if it wasn't right in front of her.
Obviously, Ichigo was wrong.
Which, as far as she was concerned, was a normal and typical thing. Ichigo was always wrong, it wasn't like that was something to get all worked up over. Especially not considering the fact that her show was coming on. Practically trembling with anticipation, she shifted again, reaching for another fistful of popcorn.
Only... her hand hit empty space at about the same time the couch shifted with the impact of a larger form and a larger hand snagged the remote up off of the upholstery. She rounded on the interloper with an angry -- yet somewhat muffled, due to the popcorn -- squeal of outrage, her fist contacting with the side of Ichigo's head as she snatched it back. She'd get the popcorn back in a moment, but kicking him now would just result in the big oaf spilling it everywhere.
"Give that back, dumbass!"
Idiot. The hell did he think he was, just taking it like that. Especially when she was watching something. Giving him a dirty look, she carefully set the remote on the couch -- on the other side this time -- and yanked at the side of the blanket that he had so rudely decided to sit on.
"And get off my blanket."
Frowning, Ichigo returned the dirty look she threw at him in spades. Bossy midget, did she think she owned the damned couch? He could sit here if he wanted to. Besides, it wasn't like the blanket had her name on it. Not that he really cared all that much if she hogged it, it wasn't like he was really that cold. So it was only the pure and simple fact of being contrary that made him grip the edge and shove his feet underneath it, in spite of her protests to the contrary.
"Your name's not on it, midget. And gimme the remote, House is on."
House? The hell was that supposed to mean? The house was on? Raising an eyebrow -- there he was, making no sense again -- she shook her head, tugging on the blanket again. If he thought she was letting him change the channel, he had another thing coming.
"I was here first, and I don't care what house is on TV. I'm watching Chappy."
Her comment made him cringe, not just because of the fact that she was so ignorant of even the most basic of what he considered "normal" TV, but because if his guess was correct -- and he was rather certain it was -- that meant that should he remain here, he would be subjected to nearly 2 hours of pink and fluffy torment. Not a chance. Shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth with a scoff, he simply reached across her -- did she really think putting it there would do anything? -- and grabbed the remote, holding it out of reach of her grasping hands as he clicked the botton to change the channel. There. That was better.
Oh, he didn't. He did NOT just change her Chappy to some.... some bad-tempered man with a scruffy beard. Rukia didn't know what the show was, obviously it must have had something to do with this house thing he was talking about, but that was entirely beside the point. Popcorn forgotten, she groped for the remote, scowling as he held it out of her reach. Longer arms be damned, this was not a fight that she planned to lose. Definitely not with Chappy on the line.
Ichigo's rather pleasant -- he could ignore her complaining -- viewing of his favourite show was rather abruptly cut off by the impact of her small fist against his face as she used the sudden jarring to wrest the remote from his hands. With a muttered curse, he grappled back for it, the TV channel flickering wildly as two sets of fingers fought for dominance over the channel buttons. Within moments, their arguement had escalated, until any passerby to the living room would have been greeted with a view of a tangle of limbs and blanket, an upended bowl of popcorn abandoned on the floor, complete with a soundtrack of expletives and insults.
Somewhere between the foot that nearly hit him in the mouth, and the small set of fingers pulling on his hair hard enough to yank his head to the side, something clicked in Ichigo's head. Mostly, the fact that he -- despite her being far meaner and more likely to play dirty -- was plain and simply put, a good deal larger and stronger than her. Grinning to himself -- or as much as one could, when your lip was being smashed by an unforgiving palm, he wrestled the remote free and used his other hand to grab her wrists, pinning them over her head. Now at least he only had the feet to worry about.
With an outraged squeal, Rukia found herself pinned to the couch, arms over her head and Ichigo looming over her. Glaring up at him, she mentally calculated how much she'd have to bend in order to plant the sole of her left foot squarely in the center of that smug grin she could see beginning to spread across his features. Arrogant prat, she'd show him. Growling, she yanked at his grip, rotating shoulders just enough to lunge up, crashing her lips into his.
Startlement and shock flashed across his face as Ichigo froze, every fibre of his being focused on the sudden and unexpected feel of her soft lips pressed against his. Almost before the comprehension of the situation reached him, he was relaxing, kissing her back, eyes slipping closed. He hardly noticed her worm one hand free from his grip until she pulled away abruptly, snatching the silver rectangle out of his grasp. With a grin, she punched the channel button, and then sent the remote winging on an arcing course across the room to land with a small splash in the fishtank. Smugly licking her lips, she curled back up into the hollow of the couch. That would teach him.