there's something due any day

[unburden]

Truth be told, Rukia doesn't care overly much for birthdays. It's not the concept that she has a problem with — if anything, it's a nice sentiment to have one day in the year to celebrate oneself and one's birth, to take a step back and reflect upon everything that life has given. But, well — with most things that are meant to mark the passage of time, Rukia just finds herself a touch more hesitant. Time can be cruel, after all. Another year passed can just serve as another reminder of all that's missing, all that's been lost. When it comes to the past, for all that Rukia remembers it in almost excruciating detail, she doesn't always want to sit and give it too much thought.

It's the same force that has her looking after the length of her hair pretty regularly, making sure to keep it trim, avoiding the otherwise inevitable day of looking into the mirror and thinking: when did it get so long?

But in Darrow, there's little else to obsess about. Little else to focus on. In spite of the Hollows that have started turning up to keep Rukia and Ichigo busy, it's still nothing compared to the tumult that both of them knew in their world prior to crossing over planes. So when Rukia remembers Ichigo's approaching birthday, she starts thinking.

He could use a celebration.

She asks for the day off, which is almost a shame, because toy stores see plenty of sales on Saturdays. There are a few stores that she stops by. The music store, for a nice pair of noise-cancelling headphones and a few digital tracks by some indie group. The bakery, for a strawberry cake — an unexpected turn to a housewares store for chopsticks, since apparently the bakery doesn't have any, imagine that — and finally, the nearest ice cream parlor for chocolate ice cream.

And by the time she's set it all out on his kitchen counter, save for the ice cream, Rukia can't help thinking that she'll punch Ichigo if he doesn't like it.

...although she's not quite sure why it matters to her at all.

Comments

[unbridle]

He's expecting Rukia to be at work, because Ichigo's not expecting her to think about his birthday. He's barely thought about it himself, so heavily more important in his life had always been the day of his mother's death, instead. He isn't expecting more than a cursory, awkward sentence or two from Rukia if he gets anything, because well ... expecting would just be cruel. Why should he expect Rukia to acknowledge his birthday? Acknowledge the differences between them?

How someone can live so close as they do but still never live in exactly the same world. Sharing space but not sharing meaning. Especially now, after as far as Rukia remembers, Ichigo's already given her up once.

But hell, they're here, now, so whatever.

He comes in the door silently, locking it behind himself before dropping his bag with a messy thump wherever it lands and leaving his shoes strangely perfectly aligned by the bag. Turning away, he heads into the kitchen.

Only to stare, entirely silent and dumbfounded, by what he finds there.

He honestly can't believe it's for him. But who else could it possibly be for, today?

[unburden]

By the time he makes it into the kitchen, Rukia's standing by the fridge. Something about it's comforting, the shock of cold against her back when she settles against its metal surface, then relaxes into the warmth that runs not far underneath the surface, a constant whir of energy against her skin. She's thought about how she might greet him, things that she could say, but somehow all of it flies out of mind when he steps inside and just... stares. She can't read that expression. It's even, it's neutral, all that she can make out is surprise.

And that doesn't really help.

She's never celebrated his birthday with him before, after all. This could be a normal reaction. Or this could mean that he really didn't care to celebrate his birthday at all, and she probably should have asked, but the whole point of a surprise is actually to surprise the other person.

So she simply stands, cheeks quickly turning red under his scrutiny. "Aren't you going to say something?" she mutters, tightening her arms over her chest.

Which is probably a little less elegant than the 'happy birthday' she'd been planning on.

[unbridle]

He doesn't apologize - he usually doesn't unless he knows a situation formally requires one. The more often you give an apology, the less sincere it seems, at least, to Ichigo. Though Ichigo so often holds himself to a different standard than others.

He doesn't apologize, but he lifts his head a little, and blossoms into a smile for her, warm and gentle and a little awkward. Because for half a second, it's like being home again, getting ready to eat whatever Yuzu's made for him, because it'll all be his favorites, and that moment of nostalgic familiarity is honestly ... well, it's more than he could have or would have ever asked for.

"Thanks," he says, still lingering in the doorway and wondering if he should cross the room, and if he does, what he would even do once he was there. "You didn't have to."

[unburden]

The smile catches her by surprise. There's something achingly familiar about it, and not because it's Ichigo, either — something in the expression that feels like one she hasn't seen in ages, maybe even a lifetime. It sends her stomach lurching, floods her cheeks further with pink as she brings a hand to uncomfortably massage at the back of her neck, anything to distract her. Or anything to distract him as she stares.

She's not sure which.

It's such a small thing. The entire situation is understated, from the simple cake and ice cream to the smile on his face, genuine, the kind that one would expect to find often on the face of the average man. But Ichigo isn't exactly average by any standard, and Rukia's just sure that she hasn't seen that smile often. Not directed at her, at any rate.

"It's nothing," she shakes her head, tilting her head slightly in the direction of the cake, the plates she's laid out by the side. "I just thought... that it was about time you had something nice in the city."

[unbridle]

"It's not nothing," he says, but doesn't argue it any further, and he steps over toward her, lingering - like he might do something else, and he wants to do something else, a hug or a kiss on the cheek or some other kind of simple affection, but that's not Ichigo, really. Hasn't been Ichigo since his mother died, which is the most of his existence. Habit is hard to break.

Halfway impossible sometimes.

And so he doesn't do anything but reach behind his head and scratch at his own scalp, a legitimate itch, but an awkward mirror of Rukia's body language as well. And with that, he pulls a chair out for himself, and dumps his body heavily into it.

"I don't even know when yours is. Do you guys celebrate birthdays? I never asked anyone. Guess I always had ... so much to do." And other things to think about.

[unburden]

Tilting her head curiously at Ichigo's approach, Rukia watches with wide eyes up until the point his path seems to shift, leading him back to his chair, where he sits down with a heavy slump. It startles her, if perhaps in no meaningful way, blinking in his wake before quickly coming back to her senses and getting out a knife for cutting the cake. And even that's a dilemma in of itself — does he want to cut the cake? Should she? She's unfamiliar with modern etiquette when it comes to such things.

"Birthdays don't have quite as much pomp and fanfare on an annual basis," Rukia replies thoughtfully, deciding to wordlessly turn the knife around and offer the handle to Ichigo with a raised brow. "Big milestones are still important, of course. I don't really remember mine, but I chose January fourteenth to mark the passing of the years." The more sobering implications, she doesn't quite bring to light. Ichigo knows them already. She's bound to live a far longer life than most humans ever could.

Ichigo being a possible exception.

[unbridle]

Staring at the knife for a moment - it feels weird that he should be doing this, and not Yuzu, or maybe even his dad, but none of them are there. So it's just Rukia and him and trying to figure out his way around her. It's weird. Weird that he so abruptly has to come to the realization that he's honestly spent so little time alone with Rukia, just being alone with her.

There'd always been so many other people, and so much to do, even in the very beginning.

"Tell me when the next big milestone's coming around then," he says, with a sort of serious certainty that he will be around for it, whenever it might be. She really doesn't have to give it a date. The thought is sincere, even if the promise becomes impossible.

He cuts into the cake, two slices that aren't quite the same size as each other, and waffles over which piece to put on which plate, and for whom. "You know this will be gone in less than three days, though, right."

[unburden]

There's a reluctance that has Rukia biting her lower lip at the first remark. She'd be a fool to believe with any level of certainty that Ichigo's life will pan out at the same rate as any other human. He's not wearing a gigai, he's not currently using any tools to normalize that in particular, and Rukia's eyes fall shut for a moment with the doubt. There's just no way for her to know. No way for anyone to know, and in this instance she can't help but think it hurts, the lack of predictability.

Because that's what birthdays are for, aren't they? Reliable means of measuring one's life.

So instead, she settles next to him, raising a playfully judgmental brow at the uneven slices of cake. Can't even manage to normalize those, Ichigo?

"I'll be ashamed of you if you can't get it gone in one. It's not a very big cake," Rukia points out, even though truth be told, if she tried to eat all of that in one swoop, it'd likely make her sick.

[unbridle]

He sneaks a glance at her as he finally slips the cake slices he's made onto plates, passing the larger one over to Rukia on the table. Because it's not a very big cake, and honestly, he probably will have it gone before she goes back for a second slice the next day.

He's already poking a fork into his own, for that matter, face having fallen from shy surprise back into knit-browed blankness, though there is a sense that Ichigo is still ultimately pleased and comfortable - only that the slight frown is the natural state of his face.

"Be nice if everyone else was here too," he says, but after taking his first bite adds, "That way I'm not the only one having a heart-attack over how sweet you're treating me." Though it would be a blatant lie if he also said that he didn't think she had it in her. Just that the situation between the two of them usually required a bit more of a demanding tone from Rukia.

Which was Ichigo's fault, mostly.

[unburden]

"Excuse me?" Rukia asks, although for once her voice ranges slightly more on petulance than it does real offense. Because she suspects that he's joking — why his face can't be anything like a normal person's when it comes to humor, Rukia doesn't know — and not genuinely trying to make a stab at her personality. But, try or not, he does hint at some abrasion in her mannerisms. So she pouts, glancing down at her cake. "If I'm not normally sweet, it's only because I constantly spend my time keeping you in line."

Curling further on her chair, Rukia grabs a fork of her own and glances down at the slice of cake. She enjoys sweet foods a lot more than she should, and it shows on her face when she takes her first bite, eyes sliding closed and cheeks slightly flushed in girlish enjoyment.

[unbridle]

"What?" he says, immediately defensive in a very particular way, as Rukia seems to be able to manage to make him. "I didn't say you're not normally sweet. I said you're not normally this sweet to me."

And something about admitting that brings the awkward pinkness back to his own face, until he finds he needs to look away from Rukia and her simple, sweetly feminine enjoyment of her slice of cake, the larger one because she might not get much more after he's through with it for the day. The larger one because maybe a part of Ichigo thinks she deserves it, even if it's his birthday Rukia's trying to celebrate.

He buries his face in his own food, but sends sidelong glances toward her, uncertain what else to say after admitting that he's noticed she's treating him a little differently than normal. And being unable to admit that it makes him feel special.

Much more than any cake or any amount of presents might. The furrow in his brow smoothes itself out, before returning again.

[unburden]

They've now worked to an awkward place. Undoubtedly and unarguably awkward. Both of them seem to be operating on a rhythm, spending the majority of their time focusing on the food, but occasionally glancing their way, and on a strange enough cadence that their views meet now and again. And while Rukia could simply take his words at face value, there's never been anything in life easier for throwing aside an awkward pause than humor, so she tries her best to reach for it.

And, as often happens between the two of them, this time it comes at Ichigo's expense.

"What," she says, a little louder than she might normally, lifting her chin in an almost overly confident stance. One which might be more effective, were the corner of her lips not speckled with crumbs and frosting. "Does that mean that you want me to be this sweet to you?"

[unbridle]

He could tease her back, or even start a harmless argument to defuse the building sense of extraordinary ordinariness that is making the conversation so difficult to flow from his lips, and it may even be the correct decision, for once, to do so.

But it is that self-same sense of the unusual that holds Ichigo's often sharp tongue for just long enough that, instead, he tilts his face to the side to offer Rukia another soft-edged smile with only a little frosting lingering at the side of his mouth, though the line between his eyebrows still lingers in discomfort.

"I wouldn't want you to let me get spoiled while nobody else is around. I can't think of anyone else I know who'd be able to do the job as good as you do."

[unburden]

There's only ever been one real day in the year that Rukia can remember toning down for when it comes to pushing Ichigo. Only one day where she thinks that it's practically a necessity that he keep more acutely aware of his actions and limitations — but the tone of today is anything but that. She doesn't want today to be a mirror of when Ichigo lost his mother, and the heavy feeling which hangs over that day in the year.

Today, she hopes that he can relax, let his arms down a little. It's a tall order, and one that's been repeatedly pushed back in priority as a simple result of circumstance.

Nonetheless.

"So I'll be twice as hard on you tomorrow. What's the problem?" Rukia murmurs, jutting her lower lip out slightly as her eyes drop down to Ichigo's lips, the sight of frosting there just incongruous enough that she reaches out to wipe it away, wetting her thumb briefly to help the process along. "You've got something — hold still."

[unbridle]

"Like I can't take you. It's not a problem," he mumbles out, before starting as Rukia's wet, soft thumb is abruptly pressed against the corner of his lips, dragging away the white grit of the icing. A simple touch, a familiar one, like many that they've shared through necessity.

But not necessary. And just enough like the touch of her lips might be that Ichigo can't help but start to compare the two. And to wonder. Not for the first time. But directly. Not a wandering schoolboy fantasy, quickly reeled in, but a flash of real, knowing consideration, and a pressing need to have an actual answer.

He has to force it away, and pray that the surprise doesn't show on his face, and Ichigo clears his throat and turns away from her in his seat feeling weirdly guilty as he gives a small shake of his head and sets his fork down.

"What was that for?" he asks.

[unburden]

She's done this any of dozens of times before, mostly with the boys back in Rukongai, always the girl to look after the lot of them as they wove their way in and out of trouble. There isn't very much that can keep such a rowdy bunch out of the filth that their surroundings were practically formed of, but Rukia did still try at times, as though the effort might lift them just a little bit higher. She always did like looking at the stars, even if they were out of her reach.

So it's not an action she thinks overly much of, swiping the frosting onto her tongue before watching curiously as Ichigo reacts, sudden and strong and enough that he has to physically turn away from her.

It's... amusing. But more than that, it gives Rukia pause, legs pulled up onto her seat as she leans over, trying to get a better look at the flush on Ichigo's face. She doesn't have to ask why he turned away. Not really. She's lived long enough that being that clueless is practically an impossibility.

More accurately, she's just never let her mind linger on the thought for long before. How it might feel to use something else to wipe the frosting away.

"You had something on your face," she says, a little bit too brazen to be flirtatious as others would have her for a conversation like this. "It's cute that you're embarrassed about it."

[unbridle]

Ichigo hasn't lived that long, not fully - not in the same way that other people have. Because Ichigo never really found his feet in the world, not until Rukia came and forced him onto them in the most real way he'd ever felt before.

He's not totally an idiot. He can see how Orihime has felt about him. But it's precisely because he lives thinking he's a disappointment to her that he can never return those feelings. She's just not meant for him. She'd have been a great girl for someone like his dad, but she's just ...

He can't meet her expectations. Maybe he can't meet Rukia's either, but there's a part of him that honestly believes she would force him to.

But it's everything else that keeps him from acting on whatever it is that she's starting to mean to him. Not the least of which being that before Darrow, they couldn't even be together, live together, meet each other on equal terms.

The space between their lives was very real.

Now it's a few feet of kitchen linoleum. And he doesn't know what to do.

"I'm not embarrassed," he argues, hazarding a look back to meet her face, with its usual forceful confidence. "And I'm definitely not cute. The only person who's ever wiped my face off with their own spit before is Yuzu. So don't look at me like I should just expect it to happen."

[unburden]

It's a well-needed break from all of the stress, Rukia thinks to herself, leaning to the side and grinning cheekily up at Ichigo as she carefully supports herself with a hand on his knee. In spite of his protests, his cheeks are too red to claim that he isn't embarrassed, that he isn't somehow affected by her presence and her proximity.

And Rukia's always enjoyed worming into those impossible places, given her diminutive size.

There's more that she could easily attach to this conversation. Unspoken words that they don't really need to share with one another to know. That were they still back home, there's no way that they'd be in a situation like this, a slow evening spent together at a kitchen table, fooling over a piece of cake and its icing. But Rukia forces it out of her mind, if only because thinking too much has her going in circles. Feeling ever more trapped in a way that Rukia just doesn't want to deal with.

So instead, she grins. Teases, voice dropping lower. "Oooh," she croons, leaning closer. "Kurosaki-kun, what's the matter? Such a big boy to be afraid of a little spit." She sticks her tongue out for emphasis, leaning as though threatening to lick his cheek.

Playground teasing.

[unbridle]

Her hand on his knee sends a wiggling up his spine, prickling at his skin until it reaches the soft fringe of hair at the back of his neck. He wipes his face off with the back of one hand as she leans closer, petulant, but some kind of stubbornness seizes him, and he meets Rukia's large eyes.

Her face is ridiculous right now. "I'm not afraid of a little spit," he grouses, reaching out to grab both sides of her face in his hands to shove her away. He intends to. But when he gets to it, he ... doesn't.

He just holds her, sort of awkwardly. "Maybe that face you're making, though."

[unburden]

Her face is awkwardly boxed on either side by Ichigo's hands, large enough that they span fully from brow to chin, maybe even a little bit beyond that. It's not particularly comfortable. Neither is the hand on his knee that she's still using to prop herself up, nor is the look on his face as he lingers a bit too close. Just a bit. She lets the statement get to her just a little, teasing expression fading into a slightly off-put pout.

And her lips part for a second, as though she might just close the distance, although she stops herself at the last moment. Eyes still bright.

"You're one to talk," she mutters instead, brow furrowing just a bit, almost mirroring his in deep thought.

[unbridle]

"Yeah, I know," he murmurs, before moving on instinct, tumbling forward against her face. It isn't a kiss to her lips, but one pressed to her cheek, beside her nose, gentle by nature, but not refined enough to be practiced or tentative. Just a wet purse of lips and pressure against her soft skin that lingers just long enough to make it a statement of emotion, if not a declaration of intent.

When he pulls away, he exhales in a long sigh, thin eyebrows knitting themselves even further as the slope of his shoulders, for whatever reason, starts to pull itself into a sulk. He's just waiting to hear her laugh about it, or maybe politely inform him that Byakuya would kill him and string him up if he ever even thought about doing anything in the vicinity of Rukia's virtue. Some old-fashioned word like that.

[unburden]

But she does neither of these things.

Instead, it's a hand that works its way to Ichigo's shirt, bunching in the fabric and lingering there before she slowly starts to tug, gaze turned down and hovering around her knuckles until he's coaxed close enough for her to feel his breath against her skin. There are a million reasons why she shouldn't, and enough of them start with the face she still remembers when she doesn't quite focus on every little detail. Some of those reasons might even be rooted in this city, in the questions left unanswered and the unsettled twist of their nerves under their skin.

But there are times when Rukia isn't great about following the rules or abiding by practicality. Lashes turning up again, she tugs him the rest of the way, turning her face just enough to have their lips meeting in full.

[unbridle]

He allows Rukia to reel him in. Not running away, not this time. Even when she meets his lips with her, determined, he doesn't pull away, but deepens the kiss, in a way that is not reluctant, just accepting. He won't pretend he doesn't like Rukia, he won't stupidly shove her, her affections, her anything away.

He's tried that. It doesn't work. He's over that.

He is into the kiss - the attraction is there, the affection, the familiarity and even the need, but he only lets it be a kiss. A long one, searching, licking at the corner of Rukia's lips in the same place that her finger touched his. But he still breaks it apart. After a kiss.

It's just not the time. For more than that.

Not until he can tell her. Tell her what she means to him with words, and how he felt the entire time she was there but out of his grasp; he's holding himself to it. He holds himself to a lot of things.

"Is that okay?" he asks, words not as confident as his touch had been.

[unburden]

There's a burn in her muscles from keeping herself in place for as long as the kiss lasts, although Rukia doesn't realize until Ichigo pulls back and she catches the burnt brown of his eyes. In a way, her thoughts diverge — one line caught around him, around this, around the way that his lips fit against hers and how they meet that one point, and the other half of her mind caught on what it means, on what's led them there.

By the time it ends, her eyes remain dazed and unfocused, heart hammering against her chest before she slides back down onto her own seat. She spends a few seconds with a schoolgirl sweetness, finding a comfortable position and crossing her feet at the ankle before she glances over, chin still tilted down.

"That is okay," she confirms, lips pressed in a slight smile.

[unbridle]

"Good," he says, I'm glad, brusque and very intently Ichigo. And he is very tempted to do the same as Rukia, to compose himself again, to slouch in the chair and open his presents as sweetly as possible, as if he hadn't just made a mostly-confession of what they both could not have not known existed between them.

You acknowledge it, and it's real. You give it a name, and it's powerful. It's only a matter of time now, before Ichigo can give it a name. That always seems to be the hardest part.

Instead of that, he swipes a finger in the side of the cake, smearing it with darting speed across the side of Rukia's chin before grabbing triumphantly for the wrapped gift on the table. It's too late to take any of it back, after all. He gives the box a little shake. "Is it a bandage so I can cover my own ass with it?"

[unburden]

"Oi!" Rukia calls out in slight dismay, pulling back but not in time to escape the swipe of icing along her chin that she rubs at in frustration with the back of her hand. The sugar's just gritty enough that she can tell it's going to be a process removing it. That it's going to require a trip to a sink, and some stubborn part of her just doesn't want to cave like that, instead licking at her thumb and trying to rub away the sugar off in that fashion.

Not unlike a cat, she supposes.

"You pull a stunt like that again, and I might just take the gift back and keep it for myself," Rukia announces with a sniff, again repeating the motion with her thumb.