Title: Death and Taxes
Characters: Urahara, Yoruichi
Rating: R
Prompt: death and taxes
Word Count: 298
Summary: Poor Urahara only wanted to do his taxes...
- - -
"How much longer?" groaned a rather impatient (and naked) Shihouin Yoruichi. "I'm tired of waiting."
"Just another twenty minutes or so, Yoruichi-san," said Urahara, trying his damnedest not to look at her. "Cut it a bit too close this year. Don't want to miss the deadline..."
"Screw the deadline!" she snapped. "You've been crunching numbers over there for hours."
"Well... as the esteemed inventor and politician Benjamin Franklin once said: 'Nothing is certain but death and taxes.'"
Yoruichi raised a thin brow. "'Death and taxes?'"
"Yeah," he sighed in a rare moment of seriousness. "And around here, death comes to those who don't file their taxes on time."
The Shihouin apparently had nothing to say to that. Urahara looked up, and discovered to his surprise (and disappointment) that his lover had vanished.
But, in the next moment, he was the table.
On top of all the paperwork.
And as naked as the dark-skinned woman pinning him down.
"Wha-, wha-, Yorui--" he spluttered, only to be silenced with a rough kiss.
No matter how many times she'd conquered him through her infamous flash-step method, it never failed to rattle him.
"Fuck your deadlines," Yoruichi grinned, shoving the unwanted paperwork aside. "And fuck your sayings."
She shifted around a bit, and Urahara winced at the telltale crunch of his calculator.
Well... so much for civic duty.
And it would certainly suck to be as much a criminal in the world of the living as he was in the world of the dead.
Where could he go now?
But, the vexing Shihouin smirked as her lover's obvious distress, and traced her mouth along the sharp contour of his jaw.
"That 'death and taxes' stuff is bullshit, Kisuke," she whispered against his neck. "I haven't paid a tax in my entire life."
- - -
A/N: Hee hee! Yet another drabble written for the bleach quickies comm. Let me know what you think, eh? (grin)