Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

Fondness

Rangiku's POV

Matsumoto Rangiku, despite—or perhaps because of—her once turbulent relationship with a certain silver-haired captain, was an expert at reading people. She thought that maybe sometimes people forgot that about her. Yes, she was perhaps a little too bubbly during inappropriate times, and yes, she was hammered too often for someone of her position, but that didn't mean she wasn't solemn, too. Rangiku was serious about her job when necessary. She could read between the lines; could cut through the bullshit between people's relationships to find the underlying issue, all with a smile on her face. She hadn't risen through the ranks solely because of her proficiency with a sword after all. Leading took more than visceral skill. It took the ability to command, to follow, and to understand the natures of those that stood on the rungs beneath.

Rangiku was observant to a suffocating degree. She interpreted everything from the most subtle of twitches to minute facial expressions. And when it came to reading her captain, she was unmatched. To others, he may have been a composed individual, but to her—especially when she compared him to Gin—he was little more than a child with too bright eyes and an open expression that easily showed off whatever it was he was feeling.

That was why it was so easy for her to follow his relationship with Rukia throughout the years. Rangiku didn't even need to ask him about it; she still did, of course, because getting on his nerves was one of her favorite pastimes. But whether he wanted it to be or not, his relationship with Rukia was bared before her. He revealed pieces of it with every movement: the rolling of his neck to indicate a long night; the way he'd glide his fingers across his desk in thought, before threading them together to stop himself; how he'd unknowingly smile to himself at the strangest of times at just the thought of her. There were even instances when Rangiku would get a whiff of Rukia's shampoo whenever he extended his arm to grab a stack of papers from her.

It was all there.

Shattered shards on the floor that only took her moments to piece together.

When his lips fell downward into a semi-permanent frown and his glares were too heated for a simple mishap at work, Rangiku knew that he'd fought with her or that he was struggling with something that concerned their relationship. Sometimes she'd ask him directly. She'd offer him comfort and advice when he needed it. But her captain was a prideful man, and getting him to loosen his tongue was harder than separating Captains Ukitake and Kyoraku. So, more often than not, she'd go to Rukia instead.

All it took was a quick complaint.

"Captain's in such a mood right now," Rangiku would say, while pretending to ignore the way Rukia stiffened at her remarks. "I don't know what his problem is!"

She'd watch, satisfied, when Rukia would excuse herself to go to him.

Rangiku was happy for her captain.

After seeing his grip tighten over the years with heartache at the loss of the people he cared for, at the damaging of his relationship with a childhood friend that was too caught up in her own hurt to see how she pained those around her, seeing him at peace was a breath of fresh air. She'd seen him attempt to tether himself to the wrong things throughout the years, such as work. He might've been a genius, but even he had a hard time finding purchase in a wavering world that demanded too much, too soon from a boy—and he was still a boy compared to her—that sometimes couldn't handle the strain.

So, seeing him content now was all she could ask for. Soul reapers of their caliber lived long, terrifying lives. Going through it alone was harder than even she could imagine.

Rangiku knew for a fact that he was happy with where life had taken him because there was a softness about him now that hadn't been there when she'd first met him. He was still stern, but his furrowed brow had eased somewhat. Hitsugaya had never been open with his smiles, and his relationship with Rukia didn't change that. After their marriage, however, Rangiku saw it more often than she once did. Sometimes, he'd walk into the office and his entire being would be alight with joy. No dark flashes of thunder in his gaze or chilling scowl fixed on his lips—nothing to scare off their subordinates. He had always been well-liked by his division, but this made him approachable.

But even if Rangiku could read the progress of their relationship with nothing more than a glance, it was the physical proof of it that warmed her insides—how they twined their arms together at Kuchiki gatherings that she knew her captain still hated, despite the years they'd spent together or how Rukia would sometimes drop by the Tenth Division's office for no other reason than to see him. She had even left a Chappy pen on his desk that her captain never used, but kept there regardless.

Another instant of that proof was before her now.

Rangiku stepped inside of their shared office, and she had the fortune of seeing the two soul reapers she'd been thinking so fondly about curled up on the couch. The room was freezing. Low tendrils of cool air blew outward as soon as she opened the door, though neither of them seemed to care about the temperature. Rukia slept soundly against her captain. Her knuckles were clenched so tightly into his clothing that Rangiku wondered what she was dreaming about.

Hitsugaya stirred upon her entrance. He blinked rapidly, as if to escape the heavy pull of sleep, before his gaze met hers. When he wasn't reprimanding someone, her captain often spoke the same way he swung his sword: purposeful. Deliberate. No words were squandered. No breath considered scant enough to waste. He proved that when he didn't even open his mouth when she entered.

The ice-cold captain of the Tenth merely looked down at Rukia, all love, before he faced Rangiku again. He pressed his finger to his lips, then fanned his hand outward in a silent command for her to go. Return later. Paperwork wasn't as important as this.

She wasn't committed enough to her office duties to disobey.

Rangiku smiled as she turned on her heel. She resisted the urge to shout in delight. She wasn't built for silence, but she still made an effort to shut the sliding door behind her with as much gentleness as she could muster. As she stepped away from the verandah, she looked upward. Rangiku linked her fingers together and lifted them high above her head. She smiled at the sight of the unreachable sun, even as it rained heat down upon her.

Today would be a good day.

A/N: Please review.