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

[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.