A/N: Apologies for the delay, but I've been working really hard to get this chapter published today as a post-birthday present for Saij Spellhart. I even chucked in a little something extra for you at the end… It wasn't planned originally, so I hope you enjoy it.
Thanks so much to Aeva - Athena - Marsden, NieveDrop, jobananasan, hinatellis, kronosgoat, Alexnoel1422427, Saij Spellhart, ilovebks, chumelon, lightdesired, Night-Wolf Pack, and my unnamed guest reviewers. Also I'm incredibly sorry to my reviewers of the last chapter. I didn't get chance to respond to you all individually, as I've been ridiculously busy with work and studying and Christmas and all the rest of it. I promise I will reply to you all for this chapter.
Please read and review.
Xox
This was proving far more difficult than expected.
How did one approach the subject of one's own past when it was so messy?
Fortunately, her gathering frustration was quickly scattered as the familiar feeling of Rangiku's lack of respect for personal space pushed itself into her arm, "Watcha doing?"
Whether she asked out of genuine interest in Rukia's work, or simply genuine disinterest in her own work, it didn't stop Rukia from closing down her current document to reveal a blank desktop, "Nothing."
Rangiku's expression was torn up into fragments of horror and amusement. The noise that left her lips was halfway between a giggle and a gasp.
"Did I just hear that right?" She rested her chin in her hand, looking up at Rukia for clarification.
"She's entitled to do nothing every once in a while." Yumichika flicked the back of Rangiku's ear as he sauntered past, sliding into his seat, "It's not only you who's allowed a break, you know."
Rangiku had the grace to look mildly apologetic, "Yes, well, I know that. I mean it's good you're taking a break for once. Surely you deserve one after you just bagged the Slave Driver his biggest victory so far."
"I bet he didn't even do as much as look at you, never mind thank you." Yumi chimed, tapping away at his keyboard with an air of determination.
At the reference to Ichigo, Rukia couldn't help but bite her lip and avert her eyes back to her screen.
"Rukia…" He breathed, his hand pulling her into the curve of his body, meeting her eyes with intent, "I need you to know that I do appreciate you… despite the way I am in the office…"
"Is that just because you know you're about to lose yourself between my legs?" She quirked an eyebrow, fitting herself against him as her head sunk into the pillows.
Adorably, his stare widened with an unexpected innocence.
The vulnerability in his expression made her heart throb so hard, her chest almost tore apart.
As a result, the devilish smirk she intended to send him softened on her lips.
The span of his hand curled around her thigh and hoisted it up around his hip. He quickly regained himself, even though his ears were burning, "Well, I do also appreciate your legs and what's between them, yes."
She hit his chest lightly, fully aware that now it was her skin heating up rather than his, "I…"
Due to the fact she'd seemed incapable of completing her sentence, Ichigo took full advantage of the silence to take her lips with his in a slow burning kiss. The exhaustion she felt after telling Ichigo her past still held the reigns. So, instead of fighting back for dominance, Rukia let herself be carried into euphoria.
"How about it?"
What?
It was as though the image of Ichigo's hands in her hair and the memory of his lips over her skin was suddenly being projected onto the wall for everyone to see, such was the transparency of her expression.
She had no idea how the conversation had progressed since her mind had fallen by the wayside.
Rangiku looked positively delighted.
It seemed she'd forgotten what she was asking Rukia beforehand, and was significantly more intrigued to know what was occupying her mind, "I have never seen you wear that look before, and I know exactly what it means."
Rukia's features had ironed themselves out reflexively, but it wasn't enough to deter Rangiku.
"Well, I'm glad you know what it means, because I certainly don't." She returned, laughing softly.
"Oh, yes you do. You were just reliving passion." Rangiku insisted with a teasing smirk.
"No, I wasn't."
"Yes, you were."
"Ran, no. I wasn't!"
"Oh, you so were."
"No, I was just–"
Ichigo could not have chosen a worse time to walk through the office.
Even though his eyes weren't visible, she knew they were on hers. His lower lip drew beneath his teeth as he observed her just briefly, heat prickling her skin.
He'd seen the flush on her cheeks before she'd felt it.
The interaction couldn't have lasted longer than two-and-a-half to three seconds, but Ichigo wasn't the only one who'd seen the blood rise to her cheeks.
She fully expected the ever-inquisitive woman beside her to make some obnoxiously revealing remark, but instead, Rangiku's mouth closed. She blinked twice. She turned.
She was silent.
Rukia stared at her colleague for a moment longer, half hoping she would suddenly make some accusation. Purely just so she could then deny it. Or laugh it off as some coincidence.
But the way she merely kept quiet made Rukia anxious.
She wasn't even looking at her.
Luckily Yumichika unwittingly chopped up the tension into tiny pieces, "So… how about it?"
The 'it' in question happened to be the proposal that Rukia join Rangiku, Ikkaku, and Yumichika for evening cocktails.
Unfortunately, the planned evening happened to clash with the 'thing' Ichigo had demanded Rukia attend with him.
"Ah… Thursday?" She asked, tilting her head to one side as Rangiku nodded her head with newfound eagerness.
"I… have plans already." Rukia drummed her fingertips gently against the desktop and observed the crestfallen expression landing on Yumi's face.
Rangiku had opposed her response almost immediately, "What plans?" She asked, "Important ones?"
"Yeah…" The colour returned to Rukia's cheeks and she cursed herself vehemently. Rangiku was on hyper-alert, and this wasn't going to get past her either.
But once again, the strawberry-blonde reacted uncharacteristically and merely creased her eyebrows with caution. With a nod of her head, she paced her next question carefully, "Like a date?"
"No. Just a… a thing."
Goddammit, Ichigo.
Before any of her friends could interrogate her further, Rukia stood to her feet, "I'm going to grab some water."
"I'll come with you." Rangiku pulled herself upwards, a sweet smile on her lips.
Refraining from rolling her eyes, the petite young woman just inclined her head and moved towards the water dispenser.
Rangiku, not widely acknowledged for her tact, wasted no time in targeting the elephant in the room, "How long?" She asked simply.
The water licked the side of the cup as it rose the rim.
"How long what?"
Rangiku held back from stomping her foot, and just clicked her tongue in frustration, "Kurosaki."
"What about him?" The lack of surprise in her tone seemed to throw Rangiku off course, and the latter simply released a shocked laugh.
"What do you mean 'what about him'? That's what I'm hoping you'll tell me."
Rukia liked Rangiku.
She liked her a great deal in fact, but she also liked her right to privacy. In half a second, violet met pale blue as Miss Kuchiki locked her gaze on her colleague's, "I'd love to tell you whatever it is you want to know, but as it is, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Yes, Rukia, you do. You know exactly what I mean… You can't bullshit a bullshitter. Especially one who is all too familiar with the unspoken language of sexual tension."
Strictly speaking, there wasn't a massive amount of sexual tension left after… well. Never mind that.
Rangiku sighed at Rukia's absence of response, "I know it's none of my business and I would fully support you in your decision to tell me to fuck off… but, I just think you should know something."
This caught Rukia's interest.
Instead of telling her to fuck off as suggested, she just raised one eyebrow in expectation.
"I'm telling you this because I care about you and I don't want you to get hurt… if I was in your situation, I would want somebody to tell me the same thing."
Rukia waited.
Tossing her rippling hair over her shoulders and inching closer, Rangiku continued, "There was… somebody who used to work on the floor downstairs where Kurosaki's old office used to be. They moved in together and everything. But, Kurosaki caught her cheating… So, they broke up. I only know this because I used to be friends with her – well, I use the term 'friends' loosely."
The raven haired woman still said nothing.
She wasn't giving anything away.
Instead, she took a sip of her water.
"But, it happened recently. I mean… I'm talking a few months back. A bit before you started here actually." Rangiku chewed on her lip in evident concern, "The worst part about it wasn't that she cheated, it was who she cheated on him with."
That was when the water in her throat turned to acid. It burned a wide hole in her stomach.
She knew exactly who the other man was before Rangiku told her.
"It was Kurosaki's largest competitor. Some people say they've been nemeses for years."
The sickness churning in her abdomen stayed confined to her insides, and her expression remained impassive. Byakuya would have applauded her efforts.
"Well, thank you for the gossip." Rukia managed a teasing grin, "I'm sure if we ever have a Kurosaki quiz night in the office, I'll be right on top of the leader-board." She finished off her water and tossed the plastic receptacle into the bin.
Rangiku didn't seem appeased. If anything, she looked as anxious as ever.
Well, that made the two of them.
…
"So, run over it with me." Ichigo was standing behind his desk, his thick arms folded over his chest.
It was becoming increasingly difficult throughout the week to look him in the face. Since Rangiku had revealed a scrap of Ichigo's personal life, Rukia couldn't bear it.
Even if Rangiku had somehow misjudged what had happened, the essence of it must have held some truth.
She took a shallow breath and glanced back to her paper, "Perfection: the ideology printed in every catalogue or displayed in every Hollywood movie that we should not accept who we are. The ideology that we should stretch ourselves until we are no longer human. Until we can no longer feel what it's like to learn from our mistakes or to laugh at them. Perfection is unattainable. It is toxic. It is our imperfections that define who we are. It is our imperfections that separate us from becoming one mass blur of grey. Perfection stops us from moving on. But yet, many of us confuse the natural genetic makeup of our species, which desires to improve ourselves, for the need to be perfect. I have personally been subject to this distortion. I have hidden from my own mistakes for fear of being perceived as weak… or imperfect. In this article, I want to break down these barriers. I want to acknowledge that without the darkness tainting my past, I would not be able to embrace the light of self-acceptance. I would not be able to learn from my mistakes…" She trailed away, a little awkwardly.
Ichigo said nothing. His jaw had fallen slack.
Uncertainly, Rukia couldn't help but glance up at him, worrying at her lower lip, "That's about as far as I've got so far… I know there are parts of it that are messy… It still needs a bit of editing so it flows better… but, I don't know… what do you think?"
Ichigo shifted his weight onto his left leg and just kept his eyes fixed on her from behind his thick fringe. Rukia might have wanted him to scrape back the hair so she could see what he was really thinking, but she was grateful for the barrier. She couldn't handle the thought of seeing all the pain Kaien had caused him lurking somewhere in the back of his gaze. Even if it wasn't there, she would still imagine herself into seeing it.
"Your writing has always… done things to me." He informed her, running his tongue delicately over his lip.
The colour danced on her cheeks – again – and she just nodded, "Well, I know it still needs improving, but–"
"–But it doesn't need to be perfect. Perfection is unattainable. It is toxic." He quoted softly.
"Sometimes, everything feels toxic."
Ichigo tilted his head to one side, "Meaning?"
She said nothing. Honestly, she wanted to sink into the floor. How was she supposed to tell him about the whole Kaien thing when he'd been betrayed by his previous lover? It seemed everybody who meant anything to him was somehow controlled by Kaien Shiba. Furthermore, how was she supposed to continue on with him as though he hadn't just gotten out of what seemed to be a serious relationship? Why hadn't he told her?
She wanted to hit herself as soon as her brain developed the hypocritical pathway of questions.
She knew she was unjustified.
But it didn't stop the thoughts.
"I want your first draft completed by Monday. This needs to go in the next magazine." Ichigo straightened up before dropping himself into his leather chair, "Other than that, it's a good start."
He must have noticed something was up. He'd switched back to his professional alter-ego – a demeanour that had once seemed so normal and now felt alien.
"Before you go…" He hesitated, his fingers clasping together on the desk, "…You're still coming tonight, right?"
She nodded, her fingers curling around the door handle, "Of course."
He inclined his head marginally, a superior signal of her dismissal.
But she'd deserved it.
…
It wasn't the first time he'd noticed her preoccupation that week.
She'd been showing signs of uncertainty… or of confusion – even the mildest hint of anxiety – throughout the week.
Although those sorts of expressions were barely readable simply because she was Rukia Kuchiki. It was only because he'd seen her naked and unmasked that he'd picked up on the subtle changes.
To be honest, he wouldn't be surprised if it was just stress.
He'd be freaking the fuck out about that evening too if he didn't know Yoruichi so well.
Ichigo ran a hand through his hair to capture one final glance at his appearance in the mirror before he locked up his apartment and headed downstairs to the hired sleek car and chauffeur.
He was donned in a black slim-fit suit and tie and a white shirt underneath his jacket, as opposed to his preference of pale grey.
"Very smart, Sir."
"Thank you, Hugo."
Ichigo hired the same guy every time. A tall, broad man with a neatly combed spread of greying hair and sharp blue eyes. He was drawn to the British misfit for a number of reasons. The first being that Hugo was an exceptional driver. The second was that he behaved in such a stereotypical British manner, it was just as entertaining as it was peculiar. But more importantly, the third was that he owned a black Mercedes-Benz C 63, and he knew exactly how to drive it to Ichigo's standards.
Once Hugo had closed the door behind him and slid back into the car with practiced grace, he glanced into the backseat with a charmingly polite smile, "Ready, Sir?"
Ichigo inclined his head and leaned back into the leather, closing his eyes briefly as he let the feel of the car relax him. It hadn't taken longer than seven minutes to arrive at Rukia's. He was admittedly a little anxious as he stepped out of the car along with Hugo and walked up to the front door, rapping his knuckles against the wood.
The thing that he didn't want to happen the most, happened.
A steel grey stare met Ichigo's fringe.
The eyes raked through each strand of hair as though he could see straight through the mop.
In that moment, he seemed to have dismissed the knowledge that it had in fact been Ichigo who had helped him out after his accident. The fact he was in charge of his sister's employment didn't seem to make the slightest difference either. If anything, it probably encouraged the classy git to establish his superiority all the more.
Nothing else mattered when it came down to his sister.
The eldest Kuchiki said nothing, but simply subjected Ichigo to cold scrutiny, his impenetrable eyes unmoving.
"So, is Rukia about, huh?" Ichigo asked, instantly destroying the illusion of sophistication he'd displayed.
There was barely a flicker behind his eyes.
If it hadn't have been for Rukia appearing beside her brother in that moment, Ichigo felt certain he wouldn't have lived to see another morning.
He couldn't work out whether the sudden strained silence was amusing to her or embarrassing.
With some difficulty, Byakuya pulled himself away from the doorway, the cut of his jaw flexing. As Rukia stepped out onto the pavement, Ichigo tried his utmost best to not react the way he desperately wanted to at seeing her clothed in such tempting attire.
The dark shade of blue of her dress against her white skin was a tantalising contrast. There were two subtle cut-outs in the waist of the dress – one at either side of her hip. Her arms were fully covered by the material, but there was just enough leg on show to compensate. She knew exactly how much skin to let him see and just how much to keep covered to satisfy her own reserved tendencies.
It was rare that Ichigo felt intimidated by anybody, and as much as he would have liked to have said that meeting Byakuya in this situation was next to nothing, he admitted to feeling far more cautious of his behaviour than he had in a long time.
But yet, all that was nothing compared to the way Rukia knocked him flat-out speechless.
"I'm sure it goes without saying that you make sure my sister is returned safely." There was a definite underlying threat to that remark, and it spoke volumes louder than the words.
"Yessir." Ichigo fought back a smirk. It was an expression he pulled in stressful situations, and he could feel it twitching dangerously at his mouth. The only way he could save himself was to turn away immediately from the house and make his way back to the car.
"Very elegant, Madam." Hugo commented, offering Rukia a twinkling smile. She accepted it gracefully and let the corners of her lips curve upwards.
"Thank you, Sir."
"Please, call me Hugo, Madam." Hugo opened the door for Rukia and waited until she was inside before he closed it behind her. Ichigo had already gotten in the other side, anxious to escape from her brother's view.
The confines of the Mercedes should have enforced Ichigo's safety, but he knew Byakuya would stare after the car until it had disappeared completely from sight. It was only when they had turned the corner that Ichigo dared even acknowledge Rukia. He glanced at her from beneath his fringe, "Surprised I made it back to the car."
He half expected it when she barely reacted to him; he could understand her stress. Meeting Yoruichi would be enough to put anybody off life.
Hugo managed to break the tension by letting his eyes drift to Rukia in the overhead mirror, "Does Madam appreciate speed or does she prefer a steady pace?"
"Madam appreciates a driver who can handle speed, certainly." She replied, a small smile resting on her lips. Ichigo couldn't help but feel his heart thud in his chest. For one, he found it insanely attractive when a woman liked fast cars. For two, this woman was a minx about it, and that turned him on all the more.
The soft purr of the engine merged into an effortless growl as Hugo stepped on the accelerator, doubling their speed within a matter of seconds. Ichigo was too distracted by the ride to even consider the small amount of time it took them to arrive.
The building rented out for use was nothing less than Ichigo would have expected of his boss. Yoruichi was never one for class, per se, but she always had a knack for picking out clothes, styles, themes… and buildings… that reflected her natural gift of acquiring power (even if it was usually done so rebelliously). The tall building may have appeared austere if it wasn't for the warmth of the lanterns swinging from the walls.
It was difficult to tell exactly what the minx beside him was thinking.
She was probably absorbing it all at her own pace without giving Ichigo any indication how she felt about it.
Externally, she was as contained as always, although her eyes flickered from person to person once they had thanked Hugo and made their way into the building.
Ichigo knew several faces – old colleagues, other directors, a handful of managers, et cetera.
Of course, it must have been painfully obvious to Rukia that Ichigo quite frankly didn't give a single shit about the majority of them, and just because he was confined to a hall, it did not mean he was going to start putting up pretences now.
He ignored the few people who actually dared acknowledge him subtly, and carefully directed Rukia towards a table, his fingers pressed lightly to the small of her back. Once she'd taken the seat he pulled out for her, he leaned over to pour them both a glass of wine.
Not a fucking chance was he doing whatever this was sober.
"Mr Kurosaki, Miss Kuchiki…"
Rukia turned before Ichigo had the chance to, her eyes falling from his wine glass – which he had precariously filled to the rim – and moving to the source of the voice, "Dr Unohana." She inclined her head respectfully, her fingertips resting lightly on the table top.
"Mind if I join the two of you? I've lost my plus one…" She sighed, "And nobody else is touching the wine just yet except the two of you… so I think that's the main reason I ask."
Fortunately for Ichigo, Rukia had the whole conversational etiquette thing down to a fine art and had already sent Unohana a good-natured smile, pouring her a drink.
"So, do either of you have any idea what this is about?" She asked, eyeing both Ichigo and Rukia with vague interest.
Rukia once again stepped in to rescue Ichigo from his own social inability to interact and laughed softly, "I think we're both as clueless as you. Hence the wine." She raised her glass and took a sip.
Ichigo became instantly focused on the way she poised her curved lips at the rim.
Fuck, it was going to be a long night.
Especially considering that Ichigo had other plans for the two of them once he'd stuck around long enough to appease Yoruichi. He'd wanted to make the most of Rukia's dress on some dance floor elsewhere.
He finished off his glass, becoming acutely aware that the demon beside him had dug the heel of her shoe (not so subtly) into his foot.
He wrinkled his nose and switched his attention back to her, about to grunt in the process but stopping himself as his stare landed on the last person he wanted to see.
"Hi, Ichigo. Nice to see you again so soon." Nel was smiling widely at him, her cheeks almost breaking at the effort.
What the fuck?
Ichigo just inclined his head as though her presence was completely expected.
The bitch had planned this surely.
Rukia's expression was unfathomable.
Ichigo reached for the wine once more, making no effort to continue the pleasantries.
"Oh, you know each other?" Unohana looked between the two in vague interest.
Ichigo let Nel do the talking. Things were already feeling a little tense between him and Rukia and this was exactly the kind of thing he didn't need to happen. It would only exacerbate Rukia's mood – which so far, she had managed to keep a lid on. He was hoping to get to the bottom of it, but now his chances were slimming the longer Nel loitered. Rukia wasn't stupid. Neither was Nel for that matter – and stirring pots full of shit was her favourite pastime.
"…used to work for the company, but I moved on a while back and I've returned to work under Unohana…"
Ichigo's building tension disseminated with one touch of Rukia's hand on his thigh. The fist he had balled up under the table was swiftly taken into her gentle hold, her fingers tracing lightly over his knuckles.
He was pretty certain she'd picked up on the hints Nel was wafting about in front of everybody's noses. But she had never been one to involve herself in drama willingly. Instead, she just lifted her glass up to her lips with her free hand, staring off ahead with an air of disinterest.
But the annoyance Ichigo had been accumulating over the past few seconds was disintegrating fast as Rukia's hand curled around his. He let their fingers intertwine and just leaned back in the seat, his eyes slipping closed. Only her.
Only Rukia.
"So, you're the shiny new toy, I assume?"
Ichigo opened his mouth immediately, his anger bubbling at the purposeful disrespect of Nel's tone, but Rukia's quick lips beat him to it, the surety of her hand in his calming him.
"Shiny new toy? Meaning you're the old one, I assume?" There was nothing but a polite smile on Rukia's mouth as she surveyed the woman before her.
Nel expelled a lightly amused laugh and rested her fingertips on the tablecloth, "Among many."
"I'm sorry to hear you refer to yourself that way." There was a definitive chill underlying Rukia's agreeable demeanour that Ichigo was all too familiar with. But yet, her fingers remained relaxed in his.
"Sweet of you." Nel's emotions always had gotten in the way of her wit. She didn't like how controlled Kuchiki was. It was like she expected her presence would be enough to sprawl her out on her ass. But then, Rukia was probably blissfully unaware of exactly who Nel was and Ichigo fully intended to keep it that way, "Anyway, I'm sure I'll bump into you later. Ichigo, reserve a dance for me, won't you?"
Rukia must've bitten down on her tongue, because Ichigo swore he could hear a retort building up in her throat. She appeared unaffected by the exchange as she returned to her wine, continuing her conversation with Unohana as though nothing had happened.
Ichigo kind of expected her to draw away from him after that point, but she didn't. She just kept her hand in his even as Yoruichi took a stand at the front of room, welcoming the general population to the conference.
"Many of you probably have some vague idea as to why I've dragged you all out here tonight… But I felt that all of your efforts require commending in person. For those who haven't caught on yet – yes, Kurosaki, I'm looking at you…" There was a scatter of amused laughter. Thanks, assholes, "I have an incredibly important announcement to make…Shihoin Corporation, as of today, has turned global. Yes, that's right. We have gone beyond international and now have ties in each continent."
Ichigo raised his eyebrows, mildly stunned.
He hoped this meant a pay rise was in order.
God knew how much cash Yoruichi was going to be bagging now.
There was a communally impressed gasp from the surrounding tables as the woman herself continued, in her own unorthodox way, to expand on the company's achievements.
He had to hand it to her though. This had always been her goal.
He could hear the excited whoop coming from the table at the front where Kisuke was seated. He'd never been suited to formal events.
She introduced a number of people to take the stand and each of them spoke a little bit about themselves, offered inspiring words, and…
Well, it didn't matter.
Ichigo had already phased out, the buzz from the wine in the back of his head distracting him. Once the formalities were over with, Ichigo pulled Rukia upright, "It won't be much longer, I promise." He murmured in her ear as staff moved to shift the tables out of the way creating space for everybody to mingle – much to Ichigo's chagrin.
Rukia said nothing, but just inclined her head.
It must have been a good fifteen minutes or so before Yoruichi had swanned her way over to the two of them, her husband following close behind, eyeing up her ass appreciatively.
"And this must be the famous Miss Rukia Kuchiki." She turned her cat-like grin to the petite demon and extended a hand towards her.
Rukia shook it graciously, "Famous? Or infamous?" She said with a small smirk.
"A bit of both, no doubt." His boss laughed. Ichigo dreaded whatever was about to come out of her mouth next. Sometimes, she was like an embarrassing parent. In fact, the two of them were. Kisuke was just as bad as she was.
He already had one awfully embarrassing parent. He didn't need any more.
Rukia fortunately supplied the next topic of appropriate conversation, "Congratulations on going global. It's an honour to have been here to witness the announcement."
Ichigo knew Rukia would've preferred to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. But the sincerity of her compliment was faultless.
Yoruichi sent Ichigo a roguish smile and a sly wink in Rukia's direction, "Would've done it sooner if Ichigo didn't keep messing everything up for us."
"It's habitual." He interjected, used to being the brunt of Yoruichi's humour.
"I couldn't possibly comment for fear of compromising my position." Rukia slid into the conversation easily, her natural confidence appealing to Yoruichi instantly.
"And if Ichigo cares about his position, he wouldn't dream of compromising yours."
"Back me up, Kisuke." He glanced over for aid from his trainer, who just glanced up as though he'd been caught cheating on a school test.
"I would, buddy, but I've no idea what y'all are talking about." He slid a hand to his wife's hip, "My attention was elsewhere."
Ichigo would have very much liked his attention to be fixed elsewhere too.
"Are you getting another drink?" Yoruichi asked her husband, running her finger around the edge of her empty glass rim.
He just rolled his eyes, tugging his fingers through his tousled tangle of blond, "Meaning: Kisuke, darling, I've finished my drink and require a refill."
Ichigo became aware of his own sobriety and cleared his throat, "I think I'll get another too. Miss Kuchiki?" He held an arm out to her and felt himself ease up as she curled her fingers around his bicep.
Yoruichi knew him better than most people. She knew why he was a little more tense than usual. He'd seen her eyes land on Nel and turn back to him, "She wasn't invited." She mouthed it subtly enough that only Ichigo saw. He just shrugged one shoulder slightly and turned away.
He wasn't in the mood to give a shit.
He just needed more drink.
Luckily, the bar was in full operation.
"I'm assuming you're covering the tab." Ichigo jibed at Yoruichi, disentangling his arm from Rukia and moving his hand to rest subconsciously on the small of her back as she drew closer to his side. If Yoruichi had developed any form of opinion over the slight interaction between the two, she avoided voicing it.
"The directors all chipped in." She offered him an unnerving grin, "Still waiting for your contribution."
"My contribution, as you well know, will be taking full advantage of your generosity." He didn't smile, but the soft humour in his tone was evident enough. Before Yoruichi could argue, he'd directed Rukia away, hearing Kisuke call for her to keep a stern eye on him. Yeah, right, he inwardly scoffed. Big guys like himself were built to withstand alcohol.
Or… at least, that's what he told himself.
Rukia was silent as they stood by the bar, Ichigo leaning over to collect them both a drink of his choice. Whiskey with a cinnamon kick.
It felt like fire licking the throat.
Part of him hoped that it would give Rukia the edge to get her talking. There was something unsettling about her silence – no. Not even her silence. It was the film of defence in her eyes. She was guarded.
That meant she was thinking.
Overthinking.
Angling his body to hers as he passed her the drink, Ichigo moved his head a little closer to hers, "Something's wrong." He commented gently.
Evidently, it was the incorrect thing to say.
Rukia's guard climbed higher. He knew, because the insincere smile she donned when on the defence curled at her lips.
"Don't be ridiculous." She sipped at her drink, her eyes focused on his left ear, "This is nice, by the way. What is it?"
"Cinnamon whiskey." He responded shortly, moving his hand to her hip, "Rukia, I want you to be honest… The exchange you saw at the table… Did it bother you?"
"Should it?"
For fuck's sake. She wasn't going to make this simple.
Ichigo just internally rolled his eyes and knocked back the whiskey in one go, signalling to the barman to get him another drink.
"I'm going to the ladies'." She took her drink with her as she dropped into the small crowd, disappearing behind the people of normal height.
"Trouble in paradise?"
"Fuck off." Ichigo said in response to the unwelcome tone of Nel's voice.
The latter's oversized breast pushed itself into his arm as she leaned close, "Hm, your favourite drink." She swiped it from the bar surface once Ichigo had ordered yet another. He fought back a grimace and just signalled for a new beverage, "Make it two doubles." He told the barman.
"So, who's the new piece? You certainly didn't pick her for her curves." She scoffed, "Or her height… If you're trying to get me jealous, it isn't working."
Ichigo just rested his elbows on the polished surface of the bar and stared straight forwards at the array of classy spirits on the back shelves, "Get you jealous?" The alcohol wasn't helpful in controlling his temper, "That would require knowledge of your presence here before arriving."
"Unohana didn't tell you?" She raised an eyebrow, the childish smirk she always wore when she wrongly assumed she had the upper hand in a debate, "You're sure, Itsigo?"
Ichigo might have seethed. But in truth, he honestly didn't have it in him to care. Not really.
"Yeah. We done here?" He asked, picking up the glasses and straightening up, "Good."
"Actually…" She caught his arm with her hand and let her fingers shape around his muscle, "… I'm not done."
"Then you can go and not be done somewhere else." Ichigo told her, his eyes flipping over the top of Nel's head and landing on midnight blue. He tugged his arm from Nel's firm grasp and strode to Rukia, trying not to dwell on the deadpan of her stare, "Can we leave?" He asked, quietly.
"Sure you're ready?"
It was a subtly snide remark – but the keyword was 'snide'.
"Just down your goddamn drink." He instructed, handing her a full tumbler and tossing his own down his throat, "I'm taking you out. You're too good for this place – and the people in it."
If Rukia was expecting something, it clearly wasn't that. For the first time that week, he'd seen expression in her eyes. Real expression.
First, she was cautiously surprised – as though she faced the indecision whether to be affronted or not.
But then, as it faded, there was a softness lining the indigo hues of her irises. Delicately, she poured the contents of the drink into her mouth and glanced over at Nel who was once again approaching, her fingers outstretched towards Ichigo's elbow.
"Thanks." Rukia offered her the warmest of smiles, placing the empty glass in her open hand. Nel – a little taken aback, automatically clasped her fingers around the receptacle and blinked as Rukia turned away, her hand receiving Ichigo's.
He bit his lip at the way she manoeuvred the two of them out of the hall.
Watching her get possessive like that was a massive turn on.
"I didn't get possessive." Rukia answered the thought in his head, "I was merely stating my position."
"I said that out loud?" Ichigo mused, trying to think back to how many drinks he'd consumed.
The fresh air was crisp as it his lungs, seeming to intoxicate him further, his oxygenated blood carrying the alcohol rapidly to his brain.
Rukia led him to the car and Hugo stepped out, opening the door for the two of them, "Good evening, Madam?"
The little devil offered the chauffer a charming smile, gently pushing Ichigo into the car, "Something like that."
Once they were safely fastened in, Hugo glanced at Ichigo in the rear view mirror, "You're ready for your next destination, Sir?"
He nodded, "Yeah. Thanks, Hugo."
"My pleasure, Sir." He pressed his foot onto the accelerator and eased out onto the tarmac.
"You planned this?" Rukia had her attention on him. Finally.
He let his lips slope into a half smile, moving a hand to rest chastely on her knee (although he was largely aware of her soft skin under his palm).
The liquid confidence lining his stomach pushed him to lean in, just a little. He didn't want to be an ass. He wanted to get her to ease up. Lose the hands of tension squeezing her shoulders.
"Thank you for being there for me tonight."
She just inclined her head at his gratitude, "I didn't have much of a choice." She was probably teasing, but it niggled at him.
Ichigo moved his hand to hers and rested them in her lap, "Rukia… I want you know you always have a choice with me."
Perhaps she was slightly amused at his comment and he wasn't entirely clued up as to why. Of course, she said nothing in response, but kept her eyes on his face, a single eyebrow arched.
After her moment of stripping his expression bare, she finally asked, "Where are you taking me?"
"Dancing, Rukia. You know I love the way you move your hips."
The dusting of pink on her cheeks eased his inner turmoil, even if it didn't eradicate it completely.
…
She'd had a drink pushed into her hand almost the second the two of them had arrived at the bar.
"On the house, pretty lady." The barman flashed Rukia a charming smile, "And one for the handsome gent by your side."
Ichigo took the beverage and tossed it back almost immediately.
Rukia knew he was just as wound up about something as she was; perhaps it was for a similar reason.
It hadn't taken long to piece two and two together. The delightful busty piece with teal hair back at the event had made her presence fully acknowledgeable to both Rukia and Ichigo. Purposefully.
She'd once worked for Ichigo. But she'd moved on a few months ago.
If Rangiku had been telling the truth about Ichigo's past lover, she was pretty certain that Nel was the top candidate for that position.
Conflicted by this knowledge and by the way Ichigo was currently sweeping her onto the dancefloor, his large hands claiming her hips, Rukia found the only way she could physically respond was to dance.
She couldn't speak, because the wrong words would leave her lips. She couldn't kiss him because he'd taste her bitterness.
"God, I've been waiting so long for this." Ichigo's lips were hot by her ear, his hands pulling her hips into his.
Don't say anything sarcastic, Rukia. Be a Kuchiki. Be resolute.
The alcohol loosened up her joints somewhat, and she found it easier to focus on teasing his body with hers.
Ichigo himself seemed more or less content with mapping her curves out with his skilled fingertips, brushing over the fabric of her dress with quiet intent. Despite her reservations, Rukia was not immune to his touch. Ever. She caved closer to him, her own hands sliding to his chest, clawing lightly at his expensive shirt.
She'd be damned if she didn't rip the silken material from his torso by the end of the night.
"You're still tense." He whispered, his teeth grazing her earlobe as he bent closer to her.
Tense, am I?
Rukia suddenly spun on her heel so her back was pressed to his diaphragm. She could feel his breath catch as she moved her rear against him, her hand sliding to grip his thigh. She wanted to grasp him hard, squeeze every answer out of his flesh; but by the way Ichigo tightened his hands on her hips, she felt he was thinking something along the same lines.
He wanted answers too.
Before he could continue his verbal pursuit, she arched her back against him, sliding down his body simply just to feel his arousal heighten.
"Rukia…" He growled softly as she returned upright, her hand shifting upwards to curl around the back of his neck, "Please…" He breathed, his heart thudding against her spine.
Please what?
Her nails finely cut into his skin, evoking a low hum of pleasure from his lips.
"You're killing me." He murmured, his lips finding the groove beneath her jaw
Against her principles, she tilted her head to one side, letting his tongue drag over her skin.
As the rhythm changed, Rukia pulled away from him, permitting herself no more pleasure from his mouth until she had organised her thoughts.
"Talk to me." He begged, his hand reaching for hers, pulling her around to face him, "Please. Tell me what's been on your mind."
His words, his body, his tone… everything about him drew her back into his hold, but she couldn't face confronting him about his secrets when she had so many of her own.
But maybe that was the problem.
"I can't." She concluded finally, her palms flat to his stomach, "Not without ruining everything."
He stilled, the music fading into noiseless vibrations, "What?"
"Ichigo, just tonight… can we forget?" Her eyes moved to rest on his fringe where she caught just a glimpse of startling amber.
"Forget what?"
She craned her neck upwards and pressed her lips to his throat, "Forget that we have secrets. Forget that there's so much more to this than either of us really know."
He submitted the second her tongue caressed his collarbone, "Anything you want, you can have, Rukia. You want to forget, we forget. Again. And again. But know that you can't run from whatever it is you're keeping from me."
She knew that. Amidst the burning desire, and the thirst to feel each other skin-on-skin, they both knew that a moment like this was temporary.
The truth was, she was too selfish to relent the way his fingers left her skin scorching. She was too selfish to tell him her secret and ask him about his.
They both had secrets, and they couldn't hide forever.
"Ichigo, you'll hate me forever." She couldn't recall ever giving the words permission to leave her lips, but they did.
His hands slid to her neck, tilting her head upwards to face his, "You realise how ridiculous that sounds?"
Rukia's eyes flickered closed, blocking him from seeing her, "I can't do this."
"Like hell you can't." Ichigo told her vehemently, his thumb running over her cheekbone, "Rukia, whatever it is that's haunting you, you can tell me."
She shook her head, biting down hard on her lower lip.
Ichigo took her hand in his and moved her towards the exit. She followed, cursing the alcohol for weakening her defences.
Then again, she knew she couldn't properly blame the alcohol for everything.
Ichigo had her in the car before she could really process what was happening. He was holding her against his side, his arm keeping her in the confines of his safety, "Take me home, Hugo."
The journey passed quickly, in silence.
Rukia managed to bid Hugo farewell before she was led back into the classy comforts of Ichigo's apartment, "Come on. Lay with me."
For some reason, she let him take her to bed, falling down onto the mattress beside him.
"Rukia, if you're not ready to talk, I'm not going to force you." He murmured, already tangling himself up in her, "You've just opened up to me about a huge part of your past. Reliving all of that has to be traumatic."
Rukia let her hands move to his chest and she just shrugged, curling her fingertips into his shirt.
She wanted to take it off.
"Why don't you focus on getting this article done, and then you can tell me the rest afterwards?" He suggested, his fingers moving over her spine lightly.
She couldn't talk about it in this state anyway.
She was drunk.
Trying to have serious conversations when under the influence with somebody who was also tipsy could only end badly.
Slowly, Rukia nodded, pushing him onto his back and swinging her leg over his hips, "Ichigo, I want you." She told him quietly, "I want you so much and it scares me."
Ichigo's jaw fell slack, his palms moving to her thighs, "Rukia, you have me. You've always had me. Now… get your sexy mouth here and kiss me."
Urged by her building need to feel him against her, Rukia lowered her head down and pressed her lips to his, softly at first.
His fingers tangled into her hair, his mouth stealing her lower lip.
She kissed him then. Hard.
His suppressed longing fell into her open mouth, his hands pulling her into his body. She was already working at his buttons, somehow still able to unfasten them despite her alcohol-compromised state. Ichigo was more than ready for her, his fingers pulling up the bottom of her dress, "This… has been tempting me all night." He exhaled, taking a handful of her rear and squeezing at his own leisure.
Rukia tugged his tie from around his neck, letting it dangle over the edge of the bed before she dropped it on top of his white shirt.
The taut muscles of his stomach tensed as she heaved her nails over his skin towards his belt.
The sounds leaving her lips intermingled with his. There wasn't time to tease.
They needed this now.
Ichigo rolled them both over so she was beneath him, discarding her dress urgently, and immediately lowering his lips back to hers.
The void she felt in her chest subsided the second he moved inside her, crushing her hands into the pillow with his, "Ichi…" She began, before his mouth cut off the rest of her sentence, hungrily kissing her as though he had never tasted her before.
She matched his pace with her hips, her arms tightening around his neck as he pushed them both hard into the desperate reaches of throbbing gratification.
Her head sunk into the pillows, breaking away from his mouth to release a prolonged whimper. His body shuddered before collapsing into hers, his face landing in her neck, "Rukia…" He mumbled throatily, puckering his lips against her skin.
She held him close, giving her heart the time to slow down as they panted heavily against the other.
Rukia knew the way she felt now wouldn't last. It wouldn't chase away her demons for long.
But in the moment, she knew it was all they needed.
Destruction would come later.