Disclaimer: This is flash fiction (short stories under 300 words). And I don't own Bleach or its characters. But I do own bleach, which I use to kill everything in my kitchen.
Worse. Date. Ever. It was written on the wall of the stall Ulquiorra was in, and he found himself mentally agreeing. At first, Orihime's idea of going on a date on Valentine's Day had seemed fine. Fun, if he dared say so. Now, after enduring dozens of other couples and Orihime's disappointment that he was not being more affectionate, he wished he had never agreed to go.
Outside the bathroom he found Orihime picking at her food. Ulquiorra could tell that his girlfriend was pouting. After all, she looked like a child. He walked across the room, and she met his eye and stood. He braced himself for the inevitable argument.
It never came. She pulled him close, looked ready to rip his head off with her hand on his shirt collar and her face inches from his. Then she kissed him. Sparks exploded behind his eyes, his breath caught in his throat, and he stood stock still. Their first kiss; how clichéd that it was on Valentine's Day. When they broke apart, Orihime looked him hard in the eyes. Ulquiorra swallowed hard, watched her gaze linger on his throat, and lifted his chin. She lifted hers, hands on her hips. "I want a romantic evening, alright?" She said.
The beginnings of a smile formed on his face. "Very well then, Miss Inoue." He said, pulling her chair out for her. A romantic evening it was to be then.