He stood barefoot on the porch, holding her like a child in his arms; her legs around his chest, his arms around her back and supporting her thighs. He pressed his cheek into her shoulder, feeling again how tiny she was. The rain dribbled down, but they were sheltered from it by the rickety wooden roof that extended from the side of the apartment building. He rubbed her back in slow circles with one hand. Her head was resting on his shoulder, her wide eyes closed, the lashes longer and darker than when open. She looked peaceful, which was unusual for that time. "Sleeping, are you?" he murmured into her sleeve, and she mumbled something, her fingers tightening around his shoulders, closing over his shirt and bunching up the fabric in a reflexive gesture. He doubted she even knew it was him carrying her; he'd taken her out of bed on a whim, when her whimpers became too much for him to bear. The nightmares he'd imagined her having were no doubt much worse than the actuality. He held her tighter, but not tight enough to constrain and wake her up. He didn't want that; not now that she'd quieted. The rain was no doubt helping; water was part of her element.
Her lips, full and too cute, moved in unintelligible words, whispering the syllables against the crisp blue fabric covering his shoulder. He moved so that he could lean against the doorframe and slumped slightly, sitting her on his thighs and running his fingers through her hair. "Shh. It's OK." he breathed, and slid all the way down the wall, sitting on the tiles of the porch, ignoring the cold that seeped through his jeans. He rubbed her back again. "It's OK...Rukia. Everything's OK." he said her name hesitantly, afraid it would wake her. She settled, burrowing her head down in the crook of his neck. Her breath against his skin gave him the shivers, and he looked over her shoulder, out into the rainy night, to distract himself.
It was two or three AM, and he'd been sleeping more or less soundly until a sound not unlike that of a distressed animal woke him up. Thinking that maybe a cat had gotten trapped in the wall again, he'd gotten up, careful not to step on Kon, and walked to the door. Walking by the closet door, he'd realized that the sounds were coming from there. He'd slid the door open and found Rukia, in the middle of some kind of nightmare. It had been mostly instinct that prompted him to pick her up and take her outside, on the balcony porch that extended from his room. The city lights twinkled through the water that distorted his view. The steady thump-thump-thump of rain soothed him, as well, and his eyes slid closed without warning.
When he opened them again, it was day and she was gone. He groaned, stumbling to his feet and rubbing sleep from his eyes. He was stiff, and cold, and felt the beginnings of a cold coming on. What had he been thinking, going outside in the freaking rain like that? Not thinking, obviously. He slid into his room, cursing the porch and the rain and the midget that had somehow forced him out there. He froze when he got in and spotted her. She was dressing, as she did every morning, tying the bow of her school uniform nonchalantly. She looked up when he came in, their eyes meeting for a brief second. She dropped her gaze. His face red, he went and got his clothes, changing in the bathroom. They didn't talk about it; not then, not ever.
But he always wondered.