Discalimer; I don't own Bleach, 'nuff said.
"It's cold today."
"Mm."
Silence was stolen by raindrops, pattering down onto muddy earth.
"Do you still have much work left?"
The sun hadn't been seen all day.
"Just a few. There's a mission tomorrow anyway."
But they treasured the moment, despite the weather.
"Oh."
He broke first, glancing down at the despondant tone her voice had taken with that single syllable.
"It's fine. Matsumoto's coming too."
She couldn't look.
"But it's our day off. I don't want to talk about that."
She never did. He sighed, shifted back to lean his head against the wall. She followed, hands still wound in the fabric of his captains haori.
He'd had a meeting, even today. A last minute thing. His hair was still slightly wet.
"Is there something you do, then?"
Her eyes watched the rain, fingers playing with the soft fabric in her hands. Cheek to chest, listening to the heartbeat everyone else assumed was ice.
"Not really."
He sighed again.
"I heard you've been getting a lot of extra paperwork lately."
It was her turn to shift, sitting up and finally looking him in the eye for the first time since her arrival at his quarters in the Tenth Division.
"Aizen-taichou's been busy overseeing training. It's nothing."
She looked like she dared him to press the point. He just smiled instead, a rare thing for a rare day.
"I'll come see for myself when I'm done tomorrow, then. You can keep me company while I make my report."
She returned the smile. She knew what he'd meant to say. It was his turn to lean forward, resting his head on her shoulder.
"Are you tired?"
"Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
"Oh."
He smirked, reached up to give her a momentary hug.
"Don't worry about it. You can stay here tonight, if you want. The rain doesn't look like it'll stop for a while yet, and you want to see me off in the morning, right?"
"You just want me to make dinner."
But she made no other protest, returned his hug and echoed his smirk with a soft smile of her own. She'd cook. He'd probably carry her to bed. She'd probably oversleep and miss his leaving anyway. But he'd stop by the Fifth Division to write his report in the evening.
It was the small moments they could get that they cherished, and they were all that mattered.