Just a little something that popped into my head.
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"Thank you for letting me stay here." Orihime said graciously, and clearly the slightest embarrassed for having to lean on the Kurosaki family. She had laughingly told Ichigo about being evicted from her apartment when they bumped into one another at the grocery store, and he offered her a night or two in their house.
Yuzu only smiled happily at her. "Don't worry about it! We love having you over."
"I... I would have stayed with Tatsuki, but she's out of town." Orihime murmured, her slender fingers clinging to the backpack slung casually over one shoulder, containing a pair of pajamas and her shower essentials.
"Karin and I would have you stay in our room, but there isn't much space. So you'll be staying in Ichigo's room!" said Yuzu, leading Orihime through the home until they reached a door, a poster advertising Bad Religion taped up sturdily on the wood.
Orihime sighed. She hated staying in anyone else's home, besides Tatsuki's. It was always so hard to get to sleep. Quietly as possible, she made her way down the dark stairs and into the kitchen, where she hoped to get some warm milk. She shivered with nervousness when she gazed down the seemingly endless stairs, and quietly noticed how she couldn't even see where they ended. She immediately considered running back to Ichigo's room and hiding herself beneath the covers, but her want for something soothing was overwhelming.
Deep, soft snoring stopped her suddenly in her tracks, and she quickly looked over to the couch in the middle of the living room, where Ichigo lay, his long legs hanging off the end and one arm draped over the couch's back.
She smiled suddenly, fingering a string of her citrus hair before pulling it back behind her ear. Her crush's face looked so much happier in his sleep- his usually furrowed brows were back in their proper place, lightly arched over his closed eyes, and his mouth lay slightly open, lips parted in relaxation. And so comfortable... in the hot month of July, he wore only a pair of checkered boxers and a t-shirt plastered with a picture of Al Pacino, and clutched one arm to his chest, fingers loosely brushing his throat.
It was so calming, so gentle,so nice,to see him.
Suddenly, the peace was disturbed when Ichigo began coughing violently, his chest contracting sharply and horrible sounds flying from his mouth. He woke halfway from his sleep, hands flying to his mouth, and kept coughing, and Orhime could see his eyes watering with the shock of his sickness.
She went running into the kitchen, at first trying to hide so Ichigo wouldn't see her and know she had been watching him, but then realized that she had to help him. She fished through the Kurozaki's cabinents blindly and retrieved a glass, filling it with water from the tap, and brought it out to him. To her surprise, Ichigo seemed to have slightly awoken; his feet were planted on the floor and his back rested on the back of the couch, but the way he hunched and how his eyes were firmly pressed closed, he looked extremely tired.
Orihime felt something drop inside of her. She felt horrible for him; and secretly wondered what ailed him. It seemed a physical sickness.
"Ichigo." she whispered, not wanting to startle him and have him spring on her if he presumed her to be a robber. Immediately, his head turned to her, and she noted the cold sweat on his pale forehead.
He squinted, before greeting her softly. "Orihime?" he asked, struggling to see her in the dark. She fumbled her way over, bare feet feeling the cool floor for haphazardly strewn things or furniture that might trip her. She was relieved to find nothing in her path. Once seated beside him, she held out the water.
"You were coughing. I-I got you something." she said, as Ichigo took it from her.
He grunted softly, drinking the water and letting out a sigh of relief, before leaning back against the couch, fingers massaging his throat and eyes barely open.
"Dad says I've got the flu. You shouldn't be sitting next to me, Orihime." he said, gently looking over in her direction. She almost broke out in surprised giggles at his concern; however faint it might have been.
"I'll be okay. I've always been super not-sick! Some kinda immunity-thingy." she said, smiling at him in an attempt to make him feel better. It had always been her view that Ichigo should smile and laugh more- but she worried that if he did do that, he wouldn't be Ichigo.
He gazed at her firmly, though she would barely make out his features in the dark and could hardly see it, he cracked a small smile. Still only mildly awake, he began to speak.
"You should've heard the abuse Yuzu gave me. She stuffed me full of oranges, chicken noodle soup, and hot tea." he said, tilting his head back and gazing up at the ceiling as he spoke. Orihime smiled a little more, imagining the young girl doting on Ichigo with oven mitts and an apron and a thermometer, her slim brows crossed firmly and a scolding tone in her voice.
"My brother used to get so worried when I was sick. He said that one time, when I was a baby, I turned completely red in the face and he took me to the doctor a crying, sobbing mess." she said, her eyes squinted in memory. "And I got a really bad cold when I was four one time. He stayed home from work for two days and never left my side except to fix me food or get more medicine." she murmured, her hands folded in her lap. She glanced over to Ichigo, and blushed at how much attention he was paying to her.
Self-consciously, she adjusted her v-neck sleep shirt and pulled her feet under her legs as she sat on the couch beside him. Her mind wandered as the silence droned on.
Suddenly, Ichigo leaned over and pressed his hand to her back of her neck, pulling her face close to his and looking in her eyes for a moment before softly pressing their lips together in a warm kiss. Orihime pressed forward against him, causing them both to fall in Ichigo's direction on the couch. The kiss continued; vibrant shocks of electricity ran through her as their tongues met and the kiss became heavier and hotter and more passionate. His hands were running up her back, his arms strong and so comforting, and he held her to him, their bodies and clothes meshing comfortably on the softness of the couch.
"Your brother sounds a lot like my mom." he said suddenly, breaking the silence, and Orihime suddenly realized that her imagination was absolutely running wild. She even jumped a little when his deep voice interrupted her steamy daydream.
She parted her lips and stuttered for a few moments, aimlessly searching for something to say. Ichigo gave her an odd look."Are you alright, Orihime?"
She broke out in nervous giggles, scratching at the back of her head and posing her arms in several motions as she tried to spit out a topic; which ended up being unsuccessful. All the while, Ichigo gaze her a mixed look of worry, surprise, laughter, and confusion.
"Maybe it's time you went to bed." offered Ichigo, feeling a drain himself and hoping to desperately try to go to sleep again. Orihime paused, and quietly placed her hands in her lap, seeming to have been humbled and now shy and nervous again.
"You seem tired. You've got a good memory, right Orihime? You can tell me the story tomorrow at breakfast; plus any... other ones that come to mind." he offered quickly, remembering the yelling spree Karin had roared at him for being insensitive.
She looked up to him again, stirring her long hair from it's rest, and smiling with the hope he had given her. She bit her lip, eyes squinted lightly, and spread her grin wider.
"Sure." she said, nodding and standing to her feet. She shivered when the shock of the cold floor shot through her, and hurriedly skipped towards the stairs, relief showing on her face when her toes found the carpet.
"Good night, Ichigo." she called, waving gently to him, though he could hardly see it, and slipped up the stairs, her baggy pajama pants flapping about like a large skirt. She snuck past Yuzu and Karin's room, and then Ichigo's fathers, and quietly stepped into Ichigo's. Her fingers lingered on the bepost before plopping down on the mattress.
Laying her head back on the pillow, she noted the mild scent of a shampoo or cologne on the bed. Inhaling it, and feeling the smooth calming sensation and the tingle of excitement that ran through her, Orihime smiled, thinking to herself how it smelled like the freshness of the first rain of winter, or the steam after a shower.
It smelled nice.
It smelled like Ichigo.