Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Plushy
Tōshirō had bled for her. He had raised his voice and spat out acidic threats in her defense, interacted more than he'd care to with her wonderful older brother, given her all of the warmth he knew how to give—and then some—and cut through dozens of adversaries to reach her time and time again throughout the months they'd grown closer, but none of those things, not a single one, put the same mind-bending expression on her face as this:
A white rabbit plushy.
Rukia stared at the object with a look that he could only describe as reverence. Her eyes were glazed over. She drew her mouth into a thin line in a poor attempt at hiding her joy, before she crushed the plushy to her chest. She nuzzled it in a way that made his equanimous expression falter. His eyebrow twitched in sudden exasperation. Tōshirō was, at once, annoyed and defeated by how godforsaken cute she looked in that moment.
Months of trying to get her to look at him and all it took was one insignificant—
Soul King, save me, he thought. I know she liked Chappy, but Abarai didn't tell me just how much.
Tōshirō gripped the rabbit's head with a ferocity that had Rukia holding it closer. She glared at him in sudden protectiveness even though he was the one that had gifted it to her in the first place. An unexpected rush of darkness flooded his veins. He was almost tempted to squish it until the fabric tore just to see what she would do—almost. The black impulse was quickly crushed into nothing. He could be teasing when he wanted to be, but he wasn't cruel. More than that, he'd hate to see her wrath directed at him.
A part of him just wanted her to look at him the same way.
"I take it you like it then?" Tōshirō released his tight grip on the plushy, though he kept his hand on its head. Assurance, if nothing else. He wanted to make sure she wouldn't run off on him to gush about her toy to anyone willing to listen.
"J—Just a little," she said, though the pleased blush that spread like flames across her cheeks as she nuzzled the large plushy again betrayed her.
"Matsumoto said it was a limited edition. It was sold out almost everywhere," he grimaced, "I had to go to nine different shops, and when I finally found a place that carried it I had to wait in line for hours."
All of those people staring at me, Tōshirō recalled, mortified. They didn't even try to hide their damn whispers.
It definitely wasn't an experience he looked back on fondly. Spirits, he didn't even know why he was still thinking about it. He ferociously shook his head as if that would banish it from his mind.
"Just how rare is this thing?" he tacked on, as much to distract himself from his thoughts as to actually know the answer.
"Very," she shouted, abruptly animated enough to shock him. "See this carrot dress and woven basket? It shows that it's the 25th Anniversary PXX-R Super Limited Edition Chappy Ultimate: Farmer Veggie Edition. This is the second-run. The first time, they only made fifty of them. I was on a mission when they first came out, and stupid Renji forgot about it even though I gave him the money! Look, they even put a plastic shovel and a straw hat inside of the basket!"
Tōshirō blinked. Twice. Very slowly.
Rukia's cheeks exploded.
"I—I mean…"
She bit her tongue to keep from embarrassing herself further, and then they both lapsed into silence.
They stared at each other just long enough to be uncomfortable, before—
Tōshirō laughed.
It was rusty and startled out of him. He hardly recognized his own voice. The sound was low, rich, and far more distinct than he remembered. It came from somewhere deep in his chest. Tōshirō hadn't thrown his head back to laugh in years. He didn't even remember the last time he did so… as a child, maybe? All he knew was that he wanted the opportunity to do so again.
Tōshirō leaned down, so that he was eye-level with Rukia. She avoided his gaze. He cocked his head to the side at that. Tōshirō pressed his fingers against her cheek, forcing her to look at him. She did for a moment. Then, in an impressive display of stubbornness, Rukia screwed her eyes shut so tightly that he had no doubt that she saw blotches of white behind her eyelids. If she kept that up, she'd make herself dizzy once she did finally open her eyes.
Tōshirō didn't force her to. He simply grinned rakishly at her. The way she managed to make that scarred thing in his chest run off like a flock of startled birds with just a few words couldn't be good for him, but he didn't hate it. This was one weakness he'd allow. It was so unfair how he was always, always lost the second he looked at her.
Although his pride was still a little damaged from when he went to buy that plushy, he decided then that it was worth it.
That look on her face was the best.
A/N: Please review.
