Yeah, so my sister wanted me to create an account, and I tried to come up with a good excuse in order not to. I told her I had absolutely nothing to write about, so she nagged and nagged for me to start small. So, here I am, writing IchiRuki. This is going to be short.

Rule Number One

When you are warming something up in the microwave that contains gravy, it IS going to splatter. Put a cover over it or clean the mess yourself. An "Oh, I am so sorry honey" really doesn't get the microwave clean now does it?

"Rukia, when are you going to be done?" Ichigo called from downstairs. Rukia, who was struggling with their child, shouted back with vigor.

"I'm trying to put Hisana to sleep you idiot! Maybe if you could come up here and give me a hand, I could get dinner started!"

There was an immediate silence from downstairs, and Rukia stopped for a split second in order to hear what her husband had to say. The silence went on for several more seconds before he shouted out a reply.

"Never mind, I'll heat something up!"

"Dumb ass." Rukia muttered as she tried to give Hisana her bottle, which she wouldn't take. The one year old looked up at her mother with her large violet colored eyes, and held out her hand.

"Da!"

"No, Hisana, it's time for bed." Rukia said softly, holding out the bottle. Hisana finally took it and settled herself in her crib. The child rubbed one of her eyes and Rukia gently placed her daughter's blanket over her. Hisana's eyes began to droop.

"Hey, Rukia! Do we have any gravy?" Ichigo called loudly, startling their daughter. Rukia stormed to their bedroom door and poked her head out.

"Ichigo, I don't know, I haven't been to the store! Now will you stop-!"

"I found some!" Ichigo cut her off. Rukia sighed.

"Ok, just heat it up in a small pan, I'll be right down!" She called. Rukia made her way back to her Hisana and cooed the baby to sleep. Turning on the night light, Rukia tip-toed out of the room and carefully closed the door. She then made her way down to the kitchen and heard the microwave running. Rukia rushed into the kitchen. "Ichigo, don't-!"

Too late.

There was a popping sound, followed by something splattering against the microwave window. Ichigo, who was aimlessly sitting at the counter, jumped up and opened the microwave door, sending drops of gravy onto the floor as well.

Rukia had just cleaned that microwave.

Scrubbed the hell out of it, too.

"I told you to put it in a small pan!" Rukia shouted angrily.

"I thought it would heat up quicker in the microwave!" Ichigo yelled in his defense.

Rukia clenched her hands tightly into fists. "You moron! Everyone knows that gravy splatters! Listen to me when I talk to you!"

"You're not talking now…" Ichigo muttered, making Rukia angrier than she already was.

"Do you want a divorce?" She asked, vehemently.

"I'm sorry, honey." He said.

"Last time I checked, 'sorry' doesn't get things cleaned around here." She told him, crossing her arms. Ichigo rolled his eyes and then shrugged.

"You're right." He finally said. Rukia gave him a stupid look.

"That's it? That's the best you can come up with?" She asked.

"What do you want me to do? Clean the damn thing?" He asked.

The two boys, Hiro, and his younger brother, Kenta, returned home after soccer practice and found their parents engaged in a rather strange scene. Their mother was mercilessly shoving their father's head into the microwave, as he struggled with his deranged wife.

"Let go, damn it!" He yelled, trying to push away from the dirty microwave.

"Not until you clean it, Ichigo! Everyday, I have to clean up after you, and you don't help with anything! Clean the damn microwave!" She shouted. The two boys walked by, unfazed by what they were seeing.

"Mommy's weird." Kenta said.

There you go.