i was categorizing and de-categorizing and transferring and re-transferring when i found this file in one of my old folders titled drafts 2014 and that i forgot about it. completely.
this is old, take heed (though i edited some parts). language. ooc. cliché. au. i don't own bleach.
scherzo
by appleschan
Very, very much unfortunately, Ichigo falls into a 3-decade old, office stereotype: the appealing-lawyer-abrasive boss.
And Rukia falls in the (probably) 3-decade old, office stereotype: boss-is-interested-in-the-attractive secretary.
No, not the attractive, flirty, big-boob secretary wearing a red fucking hot mini skirt, Guerlain-stained red lips and pasta-thin stilettos blasting a pitchy clack along the polished marble hallway type, but the less commonly-considered attractive secretary sub-stereotype, the strict bitch.
The boss and secretary are currently out of their civilized jungle, the best and most in-demand of all law offices, the Holy Grail for those desperate, wealthy men in legal deepest shit, Kurosaki Law Firm.
Ichigo is just stubborn. Rukia huffs indignantly. Ichigo frowns harder.
They are in a room with white wick furnishings and white curtains and open balcony. Beach front. The sun is pretty and neat and rich yellow outside. The waves are as blue as ever and relatively small and calm. Midday –she guesses.
"What?" He snaps. "To get here, I fucking filed a leave form! Who the fuck does that?!"
"You." Rukia answers casually, easily deflecting her boss's crushing gaze. "I made you do it."
Ichigo a walking irony, he's always out of line –despite having fancy letters added to his name legally for doing in-line justice. He never bothers with 'stupid, useless fucking papers and procedures' in the office. But what little diligence he has in the office, he makes up for in the field; he's a motherfucker in the courtroom. Voice so loud and rash that people often mistake him as the criminal; attitude so volatile that thrice he punched the accused rapist when the punk harassed his crying female client; one that brutally squeezes the truth out of his opponents by pushing the very limits of his legal practice; the type that won't let the person behind him get the wrong treatment, the one that really cares.
Ichigo's irritation grows at hearing her cool and authoritative tone –even if she's currently tied to a chair using a hair band and a stocking.
"Oh, and you were very clear in your reason, too, is this it?" She adds.
Ichigo wrote a mocking "to fuck a bitch for three days" on the "please state your reason" part of the leave form.
Ichigo glowers at her, nostrils flaring. "I am the boss."
The boss that struggles for power against his pint-sized secretary.
Rukia smirks, ha. "If you have to remind me that, you must be a very bad one."
"Shut up."
Spunky little bitch, she is, Ichigo's head throbs. He pulls a chair, places it in front of her and sits. He kidnapped Rukia one day ago, his sweet little secretary.
And girlfriend since college.
Rukia is a spunky little bitch of a secretary: straight up fuck you and no-nonsense. As a girlfriend, Rukia is vastly different: she's straight up fuck you and no-nonsense.
That is why. That is why she continually rejects his marriage proposals. There are a total of eight times.
The first time he asked her the question nine months ago, sweet and all, she answered a stoic, "no way." straight face and with no pinch of itty-bitty remorse.
(damn that school play ground where he proposed first, it's probably not a good idea anyway)
Before high school, he's one of those with the rare experience of being buried in the sandbox twice every day; one from the bullies and another one from Rukia. She's a grade younger than him, yet she 'bullies' him constantly: tying him to a swinging chair then burying him in the sandbox as a playful joke after she scares away his other significantly weaker bullies. Then he would cry like a wimp and she –the small, puffy cheek little girl in frilly dress- would shout at him, "what are you going to do when the big kids do that to you again or worse, to your sisters? Fight back, you orange coward!" then kick him squarely in the face. (he thought she could be a wrestler)
It's where they first met, so he thought, that's some sweet stuff girls like.
"Hair elastics, really?" Rukia asks condescendingly, and Ichigo simply hates her condescending tone. Ichigo stays sitting in front of her.
"I just do not see the point of this." She tells him flatly, wiggling her hands behind her back.
Right. He thinks grimly, Rukia says that a lot to him, in everything he does. He wonders why loves her so fucking much.
"How ridiculous," Rukia icily glares at him –that one she reserves when talking unpleasant clients- then leans forward and says with emphasis, "Silly, actually."
Ichigo smirks, "well shit, if you are talking about me being ridiculous, let me remind you that I'm not the one who showed up wearing a stupid bunny mascot in our supposed formal family dinner."
He starts laughing brusquely when Rukia cuts him. "Oh, you did enjoy stripping it off of me." Yeah. Their first night.
That shut him up. It was a very good night, too. Then she starts to laugh. "Oh please Ichigo, I know you did-"
"Rukia," Ichigo interrupts, "I'm forcing you to marry me." He says seriously, not blinking or even moving. This time. It's the ninth time, and each time sends an unpleasant shiver in his spine –like Rukia would refuse him. Oh yeah, she actually already did, eight times. But regardless, the feeling is always the same every time: that alternately expanding and collapsing and sinking and swelling thing in his chest and stomach. (no, no, not those fucking butterflies)
Ichigo whips out a crumpled marriage contract from the back pocket of his slacks and shoves it to her.
This is hardly a proposal scene, he thinks. And Rukia thinks so too, as her perfectly lined eyebrow rises in that seems to say, oh really? Then she looks at the crumpled marriage contract –contract that he stole when some couple dropped it on their way out of a cab. She could see that he had already signed his name.
He knows his question barely makes an impact to her. She heard it so many times already, she probably thinks there's nothing too special, like he's doing what he usually does when asking her.
"I'm letting go of my bullshitting ways." Ichigo declares. His expression, just that of someone marching to a battle. Rukia is a battle.
Like the third time he asked her –two years ago. He hired a florist to get the best type of rose overseas and a designer to make their house look like a garden of roses –all sweet and romantic and shit. He'd be at the rooftop waiting for her with a glass of wine and all the mandatory proposal things romantic movies and novels list including a Russian virtuoso violinist who stood in the roof with him. And, he hired a professional romance novelist to write him a proposal speech. But Rukia (who kind of did a dick move) bluntly ignored the trail of roses and cards and went to bed directly, but not before swatting all the roses in her bed into a bin and changing the bed covers then slept soundly. Needless to say, Ichigo defined what fucking pissed meant. And it rained overnight, too. The morning after that, Rukia greeted him a cheery "good morning" and a kiss in a cheek and a plate of fluffy pancakes and a "what shit were you up to last night?"
Ah sweet memories, of course, Ichigo thinks sourly. Really. Fuck this bitch. Why, his heart could have been with someone else instead.
"Like I said, I'm letting go of my bullshit ways. I'll just be fucking straight about it. Just…" Ichigo looks at Rukia acutely, kind of noting the passive look on her face and her evenly breathing and kind of already expecting her answer but it's him: he's kind of prepared to get heartbroken again and he's kind of stubborn as fuck as well.
"Just…sign yourself to me, Rukia."
And it's not a question. Ichigo wonders about his choice of words. It's the best he could say, using the terms he's familiar, because how could any statement ever be enough to convey what it really means to ask for someone's heart and affection and forever.
(and for Ichigo, it is sort of a plea)
There is silence after that: terse and unbelievably long and heavy and why won't this bitch speak and he really loves her.
As always and as expected, Rukia is challenging him.
"You stupid asshole, why?"
Ichigo lets the thinnest and meanest of his smirks graze his face; it's his turn to say something cool:
"Because why the fuck not?"
Why not, indeed.
"Let's talk, bitch." He growls at her, pulling her closer.
He thinks it's the best way to propose (yet again). It's not the ocean and sand outside this vacation villa, or that this place is a known honeymoon spot. He would never attempt a clumsy beach walk proposal anymore: he accidentally lost the ring in the sand and water right exactly when he whipped it out to propose. And the next thing Ichigo knew, some native island guy married his long-time girlfriend using his expensive lost ring. Rukia just laughed at him.
This way, they are literally facing each other. Like a kidnapper and hostage and the hostage has no way of escape. So if she refuses, he could catch any indication as to why. And he could ask her directly –without her bailing out on him with ridiculous reasons: why she continually dodges his attempts to tie them together.
"Why won't you do it?"
Rukia looks at him and does not answer immediately. His eyes travel to hers and she tilts her head and looks at him amused, a very faint curve on her lips. Fuck her. Sometimes, he thinks the wench is doing it on purpose. Looking absolutely cute -oh fucking shit- while rejecting the most important offer he could sprout out in his entire life like it's nothing.
"I don't want to." She answers simply.
Bitch. Ichigo moves his chair forward until his slacks touch her knees (he took one of her stocking to tie her in the chair). He puts one hand on her shoulder, then slides it to her neck and forces her to look in his face.
"Why? And don't you dare answer me with why not?'"
Rukia blinks and puts a faux-thinking face. Ichigo tries to read her face, what she's thinking. He reads her well, and he knows it's hard to pull out things from she doesn't want anyone to know –but unfair it is that it's too damn easy for her to pull things from him. So he usually waits until she's comfortable to tell him, today is the exception.
Most girls would squeal and say a booming yes then there'd be lots of fucking afterwards. It's just a simple question, he thinks irritably, why won't she say yes? Surely he's more than qualified.
He could have been a dad already (of two or three or thirty or who knows) if only Rukia answered yes the first time he asked her three years ago. He's ready for a full on war with Rukia. 8 failed proposals spanning three years can do a lot to a man; he's a hardened warrior now.
"Ichigo, I do not understand your attempts." She answers calmly. So calm that Ichigo actually notices her attitude hasn't changed when he woke her up this morning: she's been calm throughout.
Ichigo didn't like this Rukia. This Rukia is troubled. He likes her screaming and bitching and being a hell cat or a hell bunny.
"My attempts? Aren't they fucking obvious? It's kind of clear what my intentions are!" Ichigo shouts incredulously. He admits, in every rejection he takes from her, it kind of hurts his man ego. Hard. Because fuck, he kinda became a lawyer for her, it's the representation of the first thing she taught him by kicking his face straight: fight back and protect.
Those bullies that bury him in the playground got first taste of his fist, when he thought they pushed Rukia –his first ever friend- and he saw a glistening sickening stuff in her eye that resembled a fucking tear, he lashed out to them with all his middle school glory and angst. Unknown to him, Rukia just got some stupid dirt on her eye and tripped because of her short legs when she tried to punch one of his bullies.
High school when he officially became a delinquent. With Rukia as the high school bitch-ice princess. His experiences in high school are written in a book called 'Burn This Motherfucking Book'. He experienced dating twice (not with Rukia) and both were flat-out waste of time, he experienced marble-sized acne –so large he thought it's cancer, he wore sweat and testosterone drenched uniform. It's when his friendship with Rukia obtained borders and he became aware of...stuff. Keigo phrased better: "Oh! Kuchiki-san! Whose hair is as beautiful as the deepest shade of night! Oh beautiful Kuchiki-san, I see you every day, may your cute butt be mine!"
His fancy attempt to act out the Great Book of Courting heralded him horrendous results many years back during college, he courted her like he would any other girl: flowers and chocolat and romantic dates. All of those meant collective shit to Rukia.
And the first year after graduating and passing and getting an internship, he and Rukia rented a small, dingy apartment. He's a hot-blooded fresh lawyer who lives on ramen cups and convenience store bread buns and cheap drinks. Rukia always had high-end international cuisine delivered to her everyday wherever she was and on time. Fucking unbelievable. She wouldn't even give him one tiny piece of expensive beef.
They didn't have anything –as two idiots starting out their "grown-up" lives and shaking off their former comfortable 'kiddie' amenities. For starters, they don't even have a bed: "Well, we don't even have a fucking bed, but I let you sleep on me every time, even though you drool on me and bite my chest a lot."
He knows sweet, romantic attempts do not work with Rukia, but he thinks she could make an exception this time: he's asking her to marry him. That –to the least- should be textbook sweet.
"Ichigo, look at me." She orders firmly, and Ichigo looks at her. "What do you see?"
"What?" Ichigo doesn't understand. But Rukia means something, she's silent and reserved and some shit is really bothering her.
It is Rukia, the minx that just won't fucking shut up. But he kinda likes it, because he gets to kiss her to shut up, so he likes it. He likes it because things lead to one another and he gets to grope her and subsequently fuck her slowly and passionately and ardently the whole night. Then the morning after is just glorious. Like those stupid romantic comedy movies they both hate.
She dedicates all her time to him, punches him regularly and deflates his ego when it gets too big for him. Then inflate it just as easily with a simple recognition like "oh good, you didn't screw up." Or a sincere, rare smile for him; smile that is so beautiful and so real and so Rukia that he would kill any man that could make her smile like that. Because that's what she do every time. Always.
"I don't want to get married. Not to you." She tells him slowly and quietly and blankly and it's like stars decide to fuck up one night without their presence. And somehow, Ichigo heard it a lot of times before and his heart broke and broke and broke and broke and broke and broke and broke and broke. And broke again.
"Rukia…" he starts slowly, it is pathetic to ask her: what's wrong? And even more pathetic to ask: are you all right? And so he lingers with her name. He unties her hands behind her and wonders again why he decided to kidnap her and act like a lame jackass.
"Rukia, I'm a fucking sore loser. I can't accept that-"
Slowly, she wraps her arms around his neck and embraces him –surprising him- and she settles on his chest.
Ichigo does the same and massages her back gently. "The last time you went all-kitten on me, you broke the brakes on my new car. When that backfired and I'm still angry, you became a fucking hell cat instead and said it's my and the stupid car's fault. What did you do this time?"
"Nothing, I'm just scared."
Nothing, I'm just scared. She says finally, her eyes looking down and arms hanging limply around his neck and his Rukia looks so fucking anxious and-
He stops: Rukia and self-doubt are not exactly synonymous, he might as well stop breathing and fishes fly in sky and pigs dive in the ocean. Silly things. He knows Rukia won't have time for self-doubt and shit like that. His woman is confident and speaks her mind the same way he does in the courtroom-
"You're not sick with some shit, are you?" he asks her suspiciously.
"Of course not!" Rukia lifts her head slightly and her face contorts into a pretty frown that signals to him that she's about to mention her brother. "You know, my brother said that you could use some polite-"
"I don't care, Byakuya can fuck off to Mars."
Rukia's brother still thinks he's the roach in his pristine mansion that just won't die after the hundredth swat or stomp from his Italian leather dress shoes. Her brother is a marvelous human being of regal upbringing. The Demeter to Hades and Persephone. The sender of Rukia's everyday international cuisine. But he's never the exact hateful villain –just some annoying stupid presence that lingers near him and Rukia ready to antagonize his opinions and question his actions with such goddamn grace and fucking eloquence. He's the man in pressed Brioni suit and with a pretty or fucking girly, in Ichigo's opinion- carved face that make the insecure men feel like they're measly, nasty little poor boys –except him.
"You're scared of marrying me?"
Instead of answering, she rests her head on his shoulder. Bad sign. Rukia always answers him straight.
Lub-dub. That's some familiar sound he hears.
Ichigo nudges her. "So?"
He feels her nodding meekly in his neck.
Well, fuck.
"Why is that?" He prods gently after minutes of comfortable silence. She does not answer immediately. He puts his palm on the small of her back and gently caresses her.
He sees Rukia as a strong woman exactly right after she kicked him in the playground twenty years ago- he knows it's the universal truth that he would have to accept for the remainder of his pitiful life. He has been so focused on her effects on him, on her strengths, that he forgets that she's still a girl.
And that there are shitty little things that come with being a girl. Stupid, fucking little things.
"I see you, Ichigo, I...I, I mean-" She stutters. Fuck. He holds her closer.
Ichigo understands her apparent difficulty in expressing herself when it comes to emotions (he's struggling with it himself).
Rukia never had friends, girlfriends whom she can talk and let out all her girly gossips and girly feelings and girly issues. What she has for a 'best friend' is a poor excuse of a red haired man.
(Ichigo tries not to think about it. He does not openly display his permanent dibs on Rukia's round peachy ass and narrow hips and small perky breasts in front of others because he knows the other man still has feelings for her and Ichigo knows it sucks to be the guy in the sideline admiring the girl who is with another man. Ichigo probably would, if he's a quarter dick and a quarter jerk and a half asshole, but he's not, and his civility is out of respect for his former competition.)
The other man is a childhood friend before him. Childhood friend (to her) turned competition (to him) turned former competition (to him) turned friend (to them). Still, she can't share sensitive girly stuff to her best friend. Rukia is just as bad as him when expressing.
"Looking at you." she says hesitantly, fiddling with the collar of his shirt.
Ah, the strict assistant is nowhere in sight. Rukia the assistant fucks with people mentally, and they don't even realize it. Rukia the assistant treats him like a little shit and a king at the same time. Rukia talks like a man and orders him around like a veteran slave driver. But he loves his veteran slave driver to death, and to hell, and to…whatever there is after hell. A self-doubting Rukia is a sight he does not wish to see.
Her tight mini office skirt hitches higher and he massages her thighs. Rukia only shivers when it is really cold, and even then, it has to be extremely cold. The bitch lives in a fucking ice castle, almost literally. Rukia never shivers...unless she's severely worrying. He locks his hand on hers, and carries her and sits at the edge of the bed, Rukia still curled in his lap.
"Watching you grow up to what you are now-" she starts quietly, blowing puffs of warm breath on his neck. "I think, I think-"
Ah, he thinks, she'll probably say something very fucking stupid and utterly retarded and lame ass shit like: oh Ichigo, you're too good for me.
"Ichigo, you're too-"
"I come home to you every day." He says to cut off her nonsense. He wants to argue: she raised him to be man and he doesn't want to become someone else's man.
"And I don't want to hear the rest of it –ouch!" he tells but then she bites his neck viciously.
"Retard! You asked me yet you don't to hear it!" Rukia smashes her head in his chin repeatedly taking advantage of their position.
"Woman! Stop it!" he catches her head and steadies it –the minx.
Rukia quiets and resumes her place on his chest and afterwards, "You remember Inoue-?" she asks timidly.
"Yeah, what about her?" Ichigo answers, curious why Rukia would bring her up.
"She's with kids, happily married." She tells him and he hears something of envy and desire and hopes and wishes and dreams all at the same time.
Ah. "Yeah? We can have that, too. And earlier if you had said yes to me." He says, matter of fact-ly, so sure of himself. Rukia whacks him weakly at the elbow. Ichigo is such a stupid retard and ass and bastard all at the same time. But, but, still, she takes pride in having him as her stupid, lame retard.
"Rukia," Ichigo puts both of his palms on her cheeks, adjusts himself so she could sit comfortably on his lap and he tells her sincerely, "Tell me everything you are scared of."
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