Title: Chasing Paper Tigers Like Dreams

Warning: Language, lime-ish-ness maybe... sort of...

Rating: M

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Inoue Orihime was his new roommate...

Even after a week, he didn't really believe it.

Ichigo glanced up from his laptop, flicking his gaze over the bar to the auburn-haired girl scrubbing his small kitchen, nowhere near close to being able to concentrate.

She had on a pair of his headphones, half sweeping, half twirling around the small space, looking as if she enjoyed the task far too much for Ichigo's comfort. Her hair was pulled up and the oversized shirt did nothing to disguise the soft curves hiding underneath it… or that slim waist he could spam with one palm, those damn sleep shorts…

Ichigo shook his head, turning back to his paper.

And he was not thinking she had great legs—

The pencil he'd been chewing snapped in his grasp and he cursed, tossed it into the pile and grabbed a new one.

He flipped the pages of his scribbled notes, stared at the computer sitting on the coffee table in front of him, and focused on the paper he was supposed to be writing.

Or he tried.

This was surreal. More like an elicit fantasy than something he woke up to every morning. And he didn't need to be thinking these things. She had enough men willing to act inappropriately, follow her around and generally make creepy assholes out of themselves. It'd been that way since high school, and he'd be damned if he was going to be one of them.

Chad had helped move her in, thankfully not saying a word about how weird it was likely to be. The Mexican giant just grunted, shrugged, and started loading boxes into the car. And Ichigo found himself on the couch the next morning, confused until his memories resurfaced, and he remembered forcing her to take his room since it was only a one bedroom apartment.

But despite his father actually holding up his end and paying him again, Ichigo hadn't mentioned the possibility of moving her out and she hadn't brought it up. Almost an unspoken truce of sorts.

He liked having her there, even if it was awkward sharing personal space, and it seemed she felt the same way. Things weren't so quiet. It'd been hard for him to be alone after spending the first twenty years with such a noisy family. He wondered how she'd managed it for so long.

But she'd slipped in with him seamlessly enough, even taking to cleaning the apartment, insisting that she needed to pay him back and refusing to listen to his objections. It was only once he realized the extent of her need and her fear of being useless, that he finally caved. If it made her feel better to clean, he wouldn't stop her. And it was just a bonus that it cleared up a few minutes of free time he hadn't had in months.

But sharing such a small space, having her cleaning and doing laundry. It was… strange. It blurred lines in his mind that shouldn't be blurred.

In the kitchen, Orihime yawned as she put the cleaning supplies away and stretched, arms overhead, arching her spine before pulling off the headphones.

His eyes snapped back to his screen, but he heard every step of her approach.

"How's your paper coming along?"

Ichigo glanced down at his word count and grimaced.

"I think I'm shot for tonight." He sighed and leaned back to stretch his own sore muscles. "What about you?"

Her cheeks were flushed when he looked up and he frowned, wondering if she had overworked herself.

"Umm… W-well, I have a small essay left, but I'm sure I'll have it done before morning!"

His frown deepened as he took in his spotless kitchen behind her.

"Aren't you pushing yourself too hard? I know long nights are part of the deal, but you've had three this week. I don't want you exhausted just to take care of my cleaning."

Inoue bit her lip, head ducking. "Well, I would've started earlier. It's just... There's a bakery on the other side of town, and I went to apply. I really want to pay you back."

Her fingers twisted together, turning white then red from the force of her grip.

The other side of town? That was almost a forty-five minute walk. And she couldn't have taken a bus or a cab because she'd cleared her bank account to pay what she could to her landlord, and flat out refused to take any extra money from him.

"You aren't going to pay me back if you drop dead from overwork." It was a dirty trick, considering he had no intention of taking any payment. "Look, if you have an interview that far away again, tell me. I can borrow dad's car and drive you next time."

"R-really…? B-but I don't want you to go to any trouble… I've already caused enough problems taking up all your space and making you feed me—"

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "You do the cooking, Inoue. You're feeding me."

"But you do the shopping!"

She wasn't about to be out done, so he dropped it, standing instead, frowning when she took a large step back.

Her eyes were big, hands drawn up to her chest and he could see her pulse beating under the soft skin of her neck. There was a particular sort of nervous energy coming off her that tightened his gut.

Ichigo cleared his throat.

"Just… Just don't overdo it. Why don't you cool the job search for a little while? Just until exams are over," he added, seeing her mouth open to protest. And because he seemed to be full of dirty tricks anymore, added, "It would make me feel better."

That ended it.

She smiled, head tilting, knowing he was pulling the manipulation card and letting him get away with it anyway.

"Alright, Kurosaki-kun… But only until exams are finished."

He smiled, relaxing tense shoulders as he closed his laptop before heading toward the shower, taking one last peek back to see her settling in with her books.

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Orihime yawned looking down over her completed report before clicking the send button.

And… Finished!

Bonzai!

She threw her arms up, giving herself an imagined pat on the back. Done with just enough time to dress and get to her morning class.

She smiled and climbed off Ichigo's bed, fixing the blankets so that they once again lay flat.

Ichigo's bed… Her face heated.

No, Orihime! You've been sleeping here for a week. It's not that big of a deal anymore! But it was. The bed smelled like him. Everything smelled like him. Her clothes in his closet, her hair, her

She couldn't breathe. Her chest hitched and she doubled over. She had to stop thinking. Oh, when would this wear off?

Covering her face with her palms, she groaned silently into her hands then sighed, dropping them. Was she really going to go through this every morning?

She hoped not.

She was in her third year of college. She was a mature adult female who just happened to be staying with a mature adult Kurosaki-kun with no one to stop them from doing mature adult things—Ahh! No. Stop right there. Bad, Orihime!

She wasn't going down that road again. Please, not again…

If she kept this up, he was going to think she was on drugs.

Orihime checked the side table clock. There was just enough time for her to get ready before running out the door, if she was lucky, with breakfast. And since it was Tuesday, Ichigo would already be gone, meaning she wouldn't be a frantic mess trying to avoid him.

She gave another despairing sigh.

Kurosaki-kun was… well, unbelievably good-looking in the morning. It made her heart hammer and caused those darn butterflies to act up deep in the pit of her stomach. She almost couldn't face him. All that messy, tousled hair. Heavy, dark lashes. The thoughtless, lazy grace of his movements.

Orihime had to stare, she couldn't help it.

So she'd taken to keeping her head down, stumbling about, trying to get ready around him without making a complete klutz of herself.

Shaking from her thoughts, she undressed and slipped a robe on, determined to find some coffee to keep her awake before doing anything else.

Padding into the living area, she stopped upon seeing the mass of blankets still huddled on the couch. Orihime tilted her head to the side, examining the pile for movement before spotting the soft rise and fall of breathing.

Ichigo was curled on his side, facing the back cushions with the covers nearly over his head.

She straightened, biting her lip.

Kurosaki-kun wasn't supposed to be here. He had a class starting in under an hour.

Maybe he was sick…

No. He'd been fine last night. She'd even heard him leave to exterminate hollows. He must have just over slept.

Her shoulders slumped at the thought of waking him from such a peaceful slumber, but she couldn't very well leave him there to sleep through the entire day.

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There was something poking at his shoulder.

Drifting up from the deep well of sleep, Ichigo tried to pin down just how much he hated waking up to his father's many grating, infuriating, madness inducing tortures, but found it was impossible to put into words.

God, he was tired…

All he wanted was a few more minutes. A few more minutes with his head on his pillow, and with the world and its waking responsibilities far away.

Up half the night killing hollows and besides that, he'd already saved the whole goddam world twice-over. Now, all he wanted was a little rest. Was that too much to ask? And why couldn't anything wait until a decent fucking hour?

Zangetsu... He would trade Zangetsu, Soul Society and it's hellish list of never-ending problems. He didn't care if they called him a traitor and threw him in a dark cell somewhere, just please god, let it have a bed.

He growled, turning into his pillow and burrowing deeper into the blankets.

The nudging stopped.

Good. Let that be a lesson to the bastard, he thought, starting to drift back into slumber only to be prompted awake again with more insistence.

Ichigo grit his teeth. Just ignore him… Ignore him and he'll go away... Although that particular course of action had never worked before.

Nudge.

Nudge, nudge.

Just ignore—

Shake. Shake. Shake. Shake—

His eyes flew open and he snarled. "Damn it, old man!"

Ichigo twisted, throwing the blankets off and latching on to his father's wrist and clothes, hauling him up into the air, completely prepared to toss him through the wall behind the couch— Only something was wrong. The weight he was lifting was almost nonexistent, and there was a soft, feminine squeak, and instead of meeting his father's idiot grin, Inoue was gaping down at him, dumbfounded, perched on top of his leg, mouth open and flailing her one free arm in the air.

They regarded each other with identical expressions of shock a split second before gravity took over, and she crashed down on top of him.

He gave a muffled oomph as her knee caught his unprotected stomach, the other thankfully coming down by the back of the couch, one palm landing by his head and the other bracing on his chest.

His hands gripped her middle, and he was immensely glad they hadn't clutched at anything… perilous.

Although, this wasn't much better.

He could feel her small ribs under his fingers and she straddled his waist where his shirt had ridden up, the hot flesh between her legs pressed flush against his bare stomach. And he suddenly realized she wasn't wearing anything but a robe.

A thin, gaping robe.

And that was bare skin to skin contact.

His body reacted, but not in the way he would have preferred.

Blood poured south, lighting up every nerve ending along the way, and adrenaline surged through his limbs much the same way it did before a fight.

His stomach clenched against the instinctive stab of desire and Orihime gasped.

Shit! He was afraid to move. And somehow his hands had slid down to her hips and were kneading the firm skin there and fuck, fuck, fuck…

No touching!

He snatched his hands back and looked up at Orihime.

She was panting, flushed with healthy color. Her chest kept rising and falling, tempting him to drop his gaze. He didn't, certain that crossing that boundary would be a point of no return. But now, he didn't know what to do. He fought to keep himself still, not to grind up into the soft curve of her backside that was so, so close to his waiting erection.

Ichigo swallowed and licked his lips, attempting to heave his mind back toward safer thoughts. "Are you okay?"

He almost groaned when she mirrored his action, wetting her own lips before speaking, she blinked up from his mouth.

"You're going to be late."

Huh?

He stared at her, waiting for the nonsensical words to register.

"O-Okay. Can you… Do you think you can get off me?" He swallowed. "Please."

God damn it, he sounded fucking desperate.

"Oh!"

Orihime scrambled off him.

He looked away as she stood, trying not to think about the view he'd have if he didn't.

And then she left him there, fleeing back to the room and slamming the door.

Ichigo took a deep breath, trying to calm his restless thoughts and racing heart and wondering what in the hell had just happened.

No. No. Don't think about it. It was an accident. That was all, and the faster he put it out of his mind, the faster he could get control of his body. He'd just have to beg forgiveness for the next month, because if he'd actually managed that maneuver, there was no doubt he would have hurt her. Severely.

With an aggravated sigh, he ripped the blankets the rest of the way off and headed toward the shower, glad to make it without further complication. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, then flicked the lock as an afterthought.

Ichigo pulled his shirt off and paused, raising a hand to the still burning, damp skin of his lower stomach. His frustrated erection gave an angry pulse.

When he lifted his fingers, he could see the slight wetness on the tips. He drew his bottom lip into his mouth, dragging his tongue over it before swallowing.

He knew in that second that if he so much as touched himself, he'd come in his hand.

It was tempting. But not as tempting as she had been.

Shit.

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A/N

And... chapter two! Yay! Naughtiness abounds. My poor Ichigo. He's in denial.

Thanks a million and one half to my awesome reviewers:

SkinnyMoose, StarFlake000, Bridge2thePast, Vodka21, sweet-penelope, sashikibuta, Ermilus, Renee Tanaka, Dreigo, keiko-uchiha, Bobbie, chibisamasempai20, Squizzy-Taylor, AbaraiArekushisu, SpringBlossom4112, somber girl, halfdemonfan, RainingLight1, MetalHead0801, Ayaka Rain, Star Slightly To The Right, JAB9689, Czexy, JustDance3Fan, Tea In Sugar, sunflowerspot, nypsy.

You guys are so good to me :)