Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or any of the Bleach characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

Don't Shake My Faith

Prompt: There's room to grow...

A/N: For LJ. AU.

"God, this is stupid..."

Retsu wrinkled her nose, closing the door after having slipped the not-so-subtle "do not disturb" sign on the handle. This was supposed to be the night of her life. The one she'd always talked about as a giggling high school girl; the one wherein everything would fall beautifully into place. Now, the moment was actually in her hand, tied neatly with a bow, and he the nerve to stand there, threatening the perfection with a lit match. It would be in her best interest to douse the flame before it spread, consuming her excitement as well as the sincerity that was supposed to be involved.

But, with him, who the hell knew the difference between sincerity and sarcasm? He was about as emotionless and shallow as a glass of water.

In the days leading up to this, Retsu had been horrified, fearing that she'd inadvertently coerced him into the very thing that he seemed to dread. Those suspicions were bubbling again as he watched her lazily, quietly insisting that she end her self-doubt and start moving before he fell asleep. And, given the rate she'd dragged him around the city that day, she had little reason to believe that this was an empty threat.

The silence was even more unbearable than sarcastic comments, as it was misleading, not knowing what the other was thinking.

"You're terrible," she said, sliding beneath the sheets. "I still don't know how it is you talked me into this."

Eyes closed, Mayuri scoffed at her, rolling onto his side. "Your fault," he said quietly. "You wanted to come here."

It was too late for anything entertaining. They were both exhausted, and she correctly assumed that he wouldn't give in anyway. She fought back a smile, certain that he'd sense it even with his back to her. In the dark, her fingers brush against the side of his face, moving to slide through his hair. It was more comfortable this way, not having his eyes surveying her every move.

"I did no such thing," she said with a smile. "You didn't want to be here, and yet you made the choice. How is that my fault?"

There was silence, his hands reaching over to catch her shoulders. She felt light-headed, the kind that comes from the lack of oxygen; the kind that always came from their mouths being pressed together. She broke off, laughing at the dazed expression on his face. The pounding of his heart through her breast was like a big bass drum as he leaned over her.

He'd resorted to kissing her for one reason tonight: Stubbornness was far more than a trait, and he just wasn't going to admit he was wrong.