For my dear Jennifer!
--
"Strawberry shortcake."
Ichigo twitched. "Excuse me?"
"Strawberry shortcake," repeated Rukia lazily, eyes half-lidded and cheek pressed against her left palm.
Ichigo felt a vein burst. "For the last time, Rukia," he paused, took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, mentally imagining white, solar-powered windmills fan him. "Do you remember our talk about my name—"
"Strawberry shortcake."
The windmills seemed to have reddened slightly. Ichigo inhaled, with much effort, and opened his mouth.
"Strawberry shortcake."
Oh, the windmill is definitely red now.
"How many times have I told you to quit it with the fucking names—"
"Who said I was talking about you?"
Ichigo blinked. He blinked another time. Then he blinked again, for good measure.
"What?"
The corner of Rukia's mouth curled upwards. "I said strawberry shortcake, not Ichigo."
"What? But—"
"You thought I was calling you?" She smirked. Ichigo wanted to wipe that smug expression off her face so badly.
"No," he growled, feeling annoyed and stupid, heat crawling upwards to his neck and face. "But—"
"So I can call you strawberry shortcake now?"
"No, damn it!" He shouted, flustered and angry. Rukia didn't so much as bat an eyelash or drop her obvious sneer." She leant forward until their foreheads touched, and then grinned.
"Strawberry shortcake." Then she kissed him.
It took Ichigo a full 1.47 seconds to register this, and by the time he had understood what was going on Rukia had withdrawn, her smirk still present on her face,
"Fgle," he said intelligently, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth and cheeks flushed red. Rukia laughed and wiped it off, then patted his head, standing up from her chair and walking towards the door.
"Remember to use the strawberry-flavoured toothpaste next time!"
The chair was flung a second too late.
--
fin.
Words: 301
I never stepped into the Bleach fandom, so hopefully this idea hasn't been taken.