.
No vacancy
.
It doesn't take very long to regret being an adult.
Rukia still enjoys it – as a whole: a place of her own, the ability to eat whatever she wants, going out without having an excuse to do it, working on her art pieces at all hours. It's great. Really. But there are always downsides, namely who pays for all of it.
Rent, while good for the area, is still an expense she's expected to pay without negotiation, and food, entertainment, and art supplies do not come cheap.
Especially given her natural inclination for the pricier things.
What? You can take the money from the rich girl, but not her taste.
She pouts a little at the spreadsheet on her computer, her rudimentary attempt at a budget set up with the upcoming month's bills against her salary from the gallery.
Rukia knows she can easily access a bigger pool of money from her trust account, but she'd wanted to do this on her own, and that included using the money she'd made herself. She's glad she'd kept her paychecks from the law firm she'd interned at before turning tail and bailing, she had a cushion at least, however meager it was.
"Ah, I shouldn't have eaten out so often," she scolds herself, squinting at the numbers, only to get momentarily distracted by the smell of someone's dinner wafting through the open window. It smells like pasta, and melted cheese and –
"You have food at home, Rukia," she berates under her breath just as her stomach growls which she only looks down at like its betrayed her.
"I'm so lazy to cook though!"
The empty loft yawns at her, the smell of cooked food lingering like a taunt. With a huff and a roll of her eyes, Rukia sets aside her laptop and drags herself off the couch.
The cupboards are empty of immediate sustenance, the junk food long eaten during frenetic art episodes and snuck in between the gallery tours she gives. There are only ingredients, and the thought of what she could make from them is making her stomach growl.
Even the cookies 3D had come with are gone.
Fucking Rangiku, she thinks mutinously, regretting how she'd so easily said yes to the price the figure model had named, and had been too much of a gracious host to deny her a glass of wine or two – which had quickly become a bottle, or seven.
Being nice to people is expensive, she huffs, before opening the fridge to find it in the same state.
She's got eggs though. That's easy enough.
Oh! Past-Rukia bought mushrooms and they're still good! Score!
"I'm thinking mushroom omelet? Or maybe some scrambled eggs with some mushrooms sautéed on the side? What do you think?"
The cat jumps onto the counter to sniff her offerings before meowing disinterestedly and slinking away. Rukia sniffs. "Fine, you weren't getting any anyway."
She doesn't cook the mushrooms enough, and the eggs are a little overcooked, but it's not the worst attempt she's ever made.
A few days ago, she made ramen – or tried to. It had overcooked and clumped together, and it was like eating a ball of starch.
It was pretty filling, in her defense, if not on the bland side what with all the stock cooked off.
She's in the middle of sending a picture of her success (and it is one, no one is going to take this from her; she's going to be Master Chef levels of good in no time!) to Byakuya – Look, I can cook! – before an alarm shrills so loudly that she startles, and drops her phone on her plate with a clatter; eggs flying everywhere while the mushrooms make a sad squelching noise beneath her screen.
Fuck, so much for that.
The noise doesn't stop, and on opening her front door to find out what's going on, she sees the occupants from her floor loitering in the hallway. "What's happening?" she asks above the shrill.
"Fire alarm," 3D declares, looking disgruntled. "It's probably that-that Ryoka in 3B."
Though Rukia rolls her eyes on a movement that's mostly a reflex whenever 3D talks, she notices the asshole with the orange hair isn't among them, and that his door is still closed. However, when she makes a move to knock, 3C, a nervous, young man with a nametag identifying him as Hanataro pinned to his convenient store uniform, stutters a warning that, "Kurosaki-san doesn't like people bothering him."
"Well he's the only one not coming out, and I think it's coming from his unit anyway so -" Her minuscule edge closer only leads to more yelling, this time with 3D joining in to declare, "It's not safe to go in there!"
"He could be hurt," Rukia argues.
At that, 3D only huffs, and 3C looks torn, and that's as close to an agreement as she'll likely get from either of them. So, she knocks. Once, twice, and then calls over the alarm's shrieks, "Oi! Is everything okay?"
There's some cursing on the other side, so Rukia assumes the answer is yes, which satisfies 3D enough that she flounces off back to her unit while 3C shuffles nervously beside her. "Do you think…he's hurt in there?"
"We know he's not unconscious, and," seeing the lack of smoke trying to escape from under the door, and testing the knob and finding the handle cool, Rukia assures him, "Not a big fire then."
To 3B, she yells, "Hey Killer, do you need help?"
"Ah," Hanataro stutters, "maybe you shouldn't -"
"I've got it, it's fine," 3B answers before there's a crash and –
"That doesn't sound fine," she informs him to his irritated groan, before he reluctantly as the shrieks of the alarm die down, 3B admits, "I think…I think I hurt my ankle."
Exchanging a look with Hanataro, Rukia confirms, "I have your permission to come in?"
A pause, and then, a grudging, "I don't…I don't think I can get to the door."
"Oh, it's cool, I've got that covered," Rukia waves off before gently gesturing Hanataro aside, taking a breath and spinning a kick at the door which – ah hah!
Hanataro's mouth gapes, similarly to 3B's and then, 3B is yelling, "How the fuck did you…?"
"Twelve years of taekwondo," she declares with a confident brush of her shoulder before she takes in the sight of 3B's apartment, nose crinkling, "Why does it smell like death in here?"
"Doesn't matter," 3B informs from the floor nearby a chair that's toppled over, cheeks red, "are you gonna help me or not?"
"Since you asked so nicely," Rukia says with a roll of her eyes, and gesturing Hanataro forward, "C'mon, this traffic cone is too heavy for me to carry alone."
"Oi!"
"Ah-ah-ah, I'm helping you of my own free will buddy, I can leave you like this too."
Hanataro still hasn't come around to help though, still shuffling nervously in the threshold before 3B barks, "Come in, already."
"Ah, yes!" he agrees, finally coming closer and taking his other side as Rukia herds them onto the couch where his own laptop is set up, a screensaver of what looks to be a family – two young women and an older man smiling on the screen, arms looped around one another. Their genes are pretty strong, it's obvious they're all related, and if not for their grins, Rukia would say the same of 3B.
"We should elevate his ankle," Hanataro is saying, already arranging pillows to do just that and then darting off into the kitchen with a declaration of, "Ice, he needs ice!" Like all he needed was 3B's permission to start making himself at home, and that includes almost tripping over the fallen chair that seemed to have been in the middle of the room, and…is that a broom?
Whatever he was probably trying to manually switch the fire alarm off and fell.
Though the question remains why the fire alarm had gone off at all. There's nothing on the stove plate.
"Alright, what the hell have you been doing?"
"None of your business," he grumbles, and that flush on his cheeks only grows darker until it turns practically purple when Hanataro discovers, "Ah, Kurosaki-san, I think…I think your cookies are burned."
"Cookies?" Rukia echoes, her smile turning wicked, and this time when Kurosaki starts shouting, he's stuttering and blushing all the way down his chest which is – oh, he's half-naked save for a comfortable pair of sweats, huh. "I'm sorry," she teasingly, doing a fantastic job of pretending not to notice the treasure trail of hair leading into the waistband of his pants, and the tightness of his stomach as she coos, "did you have company or were you…" she sends a significant glance to the set up laptop. To her amusement, he gets even more embarrassed.
"That's not – no! I was – look it's just -"
"Oh, you don't need to explain yourself to me, you're clearly a healthy young man with some…strange hobbies, and other…not so strange hobbies."
Hanataro blushes before retreating with a bow, "You should keep your ankle elevated! And-and take some anti-inflammatories! Keep it iced, and-and you should be fine! I'm gonna…I'm gonna go now. Hope you feel better, Kurosaki-san!"
Rukia's still grinning at Kurosaki by the time Hanataro leaves, even as 3B glares, the effect significantly reduced with his embarrassment so obvious. "You know, that kid'll probably never be scared of me again," he accuses mulishly.
"He might even greet you in the elevator," Rukia agrees in cheerful sobriety.
"I hate you."
"I know," she sighs happily, "and it pleases me greatly."
A/n: Thank you for all your comments! If you'd like a response, I answer them on ao3 (because it's easier).