.
No vacancy
.
Ichigo's day has gone to shit.
He knew it would.
Urahara had shown up that morning to flick his fan, peer at him musingly through green-tinted lenses and declare that Ichigo wasn't getting his deposit back: "First the alarm and then the door? Tsk, tsk, Ichigo, and here I thought your ryoka reputation was all just rumors. Are there any other sins you'd like to confess while I'm here?" And when he'd answered with a disinterested grunt, unable to slam the door and lock it because 3A had broken it coming in to save him from himself, Urahara only hummed out a sigh and declared, "Well, at least you haven't chased away Kuchiki-san, that would be your third neighbor in four months. I didn't forget, you know, and you're going to find another utility on your bill labeled 'un-neighborly behavior' if she moves out. So, be good."
On top of that, not only was Ichigo's black eye taking forever to heal, he had a swollen ankle on top that.
Sure, he could hobble well enough, and he didn't actually need to go anywhere. But going to the gym was out of the question.
Kenpachi, the gym's owner, liked Tatsuki more than him, and after she'd forbidden him from taking his writer's block out in the ring, Kenpachi had refused his entry into the building entirely in solidarity.
Renji and Grimmjow had given him shit from the window of the gym for about ten seconds before the rest of Kenpachi's crew had dragged them in for a brawl of their own making, and Ichigo had been forced to leave to the chorus of a bunch of gym rats arguing themselves into a frenzy, "You think you can take me? Huh? Say it to my face, you fuck!"
Ichigo didn't even have the pleasure to contribute beyond smirking thinly and walking off.
It would've been the perfect way to take out his aggression, but no, he'd busted up his ankle, he still couldn't see out one eye and Tatsuki had said no.
As if it couldn't get worse, the Universe empathetically replied Watch it, and it started to pour in thick sheets of rain.
The water hit the ground so hard it slammed into the pavement in giant splashes as the darkened sky tore itself to pieces overhead. Ichigo's only saving grace had been that the loft was just around the corner. Though, it didn't stop the admirable job of the weather in soaking him straight to the bone.
Grimacing against the soggy feeling of his sock tightening around his swollen ankle, Ichigo manages to get into the elevator without issue, leaning heavily against the wall while his hair dripped through all three layers of his clothes.
With an annoyed exhale, the elevator chimes in closing just as a hand shoots out to stop it, and 3A, Kuchiki, is sliding in with a labored breath of her own.
She gives him a passing smile in greeting, an automatic response apparently before she snorts. "You look like a drowned cat."
He grunts in acknowledgment, ignoring the way his cheeks warm and resolving to ignore her entirely.
Kuchiki won't move out if he's just rude, and even if she did, Urahara can't seriously charge him for that, can he? He should probably ask Karin. His sister would give him shit for chasing his neighbors off, but she's gotten quite the reputation for terrifying her desk mates herself, and he'd just love to remind her about people in glass houses throwing stones. It's his brotherly duty to annoy her, after all.
Kuchiki hits the button for their floor, and though she pauses to wait for someone to join them on the elevator, 2A takes one look at the two of them and immediately excuse himself with, "I'll take the stairs!"
"Uh…are you sure?" she asks, eying the number of packages he's balancing and the way he's somehow sweating through the rainwater, even as Kuchiki herself shivers underneath her wet coat thanks to the front door of the building their neighbor has left open in his wake.
He stutters out some kind of reply that Ichigo ignores as he leans over to press the button to shut the doors and initiate the elevator's ascent.
"Rude," she scolds, the glare she throws him accompanied by the rain that clings to her hair.
"They were never going to get in," he tells her, leaning back with a grunt. "Wasn't going to waste my time getting colder and getting sick on top of everything else."
At that, Kuchiki pauses, her glare softening as she takes him in with an almost cursory sweep of her eyes. "How's your ankle?"
"Nothing broken," he tells her, though that was completely dependent on whether or not Tatsuki was serious about flying down to finish the job – "You're like the most annoying little brother," she'd scolded over Skype, "I can't leave you alone for one fucking month without you hurting yourself!"
"At least the eye is looking better," Kuchiki tries to comfort which is unnecessary, he doesn't know her well enough to care for her sympathy, even as she continues to scrutinize his face. And Ichigo's probably getting sick, damn it, there's no reason his face should be getting so warm –
"What the hell are you looking at?" he snaps.
"You, obviously."
His brow wrinkles in a what for expression which she evidently finds annoying given the exasperated sigh she lets out before she tells him, "I'm just wondering if it's the eye that gives you the reputation or if it's just your normal face."
"I don't know what you're talking about, you're the one that was dragging a body around."
Kuchiki scowls. "One time, it was one time."
"And for your information, thanks to you, it's neither."
"What?"
"3C won't stop talking to me," Ichigo practically spits.
Hanataro had been, at the very least, intimidated by him before, but ever since the Cookie Incident yesterday, he'd moved from a low-level fear to just enough to be polite. And as she predicted a day ago, Hanataro found it prudent to greet him when they ran into each other in the evening, and for their usually nervous neighbor to give him medical advice.
On the plus side, Ichigo had found out, thanks to 3C's rambling, that he was a paramedic in training and was working at the nearby convenience store to help pay for school.
Maybe Ichigo just needed to ask him some totally normal questions relating to accidents to get them back on track. But that would require actually contributing to their conversations, and Ichigo isn't entirely sure it wouldn't encourage the kid to think they're friends or something.
"Oh, you poor antisocial hermit," Kuchiki coos.
"Shuddup."
Despite the growl, she only laughs, and Ichigo doesn't have the time to curse his stupid biological response because his face won't stop getting warm, what the fuck, and he can't decide if he's blaming it on the anger or the embarrassment of it all, but it turns out he doesn't need to decide: The lights go out, and the elevator abruptly stops.
"What the -?"
Pushing the emergency button doesn't do anything except produce a clicking noise, and while 3A keeps at it, Ichigo struggles to get his (slightly damp phone) out of the pocket of his wet jeans. He grimaces against the brightness of the screen as he navigates his contacts to get to Sandlehat's number before pressing it to his ear.
After two rings, with a non-sequitur, he informs, "We're stuck in the elevator."
"Power's out, that'll happen," Jinta, Urahara's kid, tells him disinterestedly. "Once it's back on, you'll be good to go. Try not to kill whoever's in there with you."
Any further conversation in that vein ends with the dial tone making Ichigo scowl. "Great."
Beside him, Kuchiki makes an inquiring noise, and he relays the information with an added layer of displeasure.
"Well, hopefully, it won't be long," she tries to soothe, though whether it's for his benefit or hers, he can't tell, though he's starting to suspect the former given the way she's trying to subtly keep him standing.
Stupid ankle.
"I'm fine," he grunts.
"At least sit," she argues. "Why are you even up anyway? You fell yesterday."
"It's not that bad," he defends. "It's not even broken."
"You realize damaging your ligament isn't a consolation."
"Are you a doctor too?" he demands which she answers instead with, "Would it kill you not to be a dick for five minutes?"
His jaw clamps shut, and before his screen dims out from inactivity, she looks almost impressed that he's capable of silence, if not pleasantry.
But he can't have that.
He lets at least a couple of seconds pass before, "You gonna waste these five minutes or what?"
In the dark, she sighs. "You suck at this."
When he doesn't reply, Ichigo feels her move, nudging him to sit and then she's saying, "Stretch your leg out – no, your other leg, the one that's hurt."
"It's just my ankle," he protests. "It's not even sore -"
"Shut up and stretch it," which is followed by the strange feeling of his foot being lifted before coming to a rest on top of something weirdly shaped.
"What is that?"
"Me," she grunts, her hip pressed against his thigh. "Well, my ankles, I'd have elevated it with my bag but I didn't bring it. And I'm not putting your muddy ass shoe in my food."
He ignores the strange squirmy feeling in his chest and is grateful that it's too dark to notice how bright his face probably is considering how it feels. "You left the house without a bag?" He asks instead. Yuzu often informs him of the impossibility of such a feat, "Girls' clothes don't actually have pockets, it's a conspiracy to force us to buy bags."
"I just ran out to get some groceries," Kuchiki defends like she's well aware of the dangers of just carrying your belongings before she perks up. "Which is a good thing for both of us."
There's some rustling before she offers, "Oreo?"
They're sitting close enough that she practically shoves it in his mouth, and if she startles at the sudden crunching near her ear from him chewing, he politely pretends he doesn't notice. Which only makes her grumble, "Ass."
Around his mouthful, he grumbles back, and for a blessed five minutes, neither says anything.
Until he mutters, "…Thanks" which she answers with a bob of her head he feels more than he sees.
At least for now, Kuchiki doesn't run off with the inch he's given her, but he finds himself annoyed about it too.
From the little he knows about her, and the little he's gotten to experience of her, Kuchiki doesn't seem like the type to just let things be. She's annoyingly persistent that way – the first time they met in this elevator when she'd still been wary, and the first time she showed up at his door demanding he help her with none of her earlier concerns, prove it. Her silent acquiescence now is…almost…infuriating.
He knows it shouldn't, and it doesn't make sense.
Everyone else he's ever been nice enough to keep demanding more of him – Hanataro, to a small degree; Momo, before 3D had gotten to her; Inoue, at the deli counter of the supermarket he doesn't go to anymore if he can avoid it; his sisters.
It's why he likes being a jerk. Everyone leaves him alone.
But Kuchiki? She just helps him and then doesn't say anything?
He huffs out an irritated breath through his nose.
Fuck.
She's gotten to him.
And just as he thinks that he snaps, "What?"
"What?" she returns, bewildered.
"That's…it?"
"I'm sorry, was I supposed to say anything else?"
The yes is on the tip of his tongue. He'd expected some barb about him even knowing how to be polite in the first place, not just – "You're not usually quiet."
"How would you know?" she asks, genuinely confused. "It's not like we talk when we get our mail at the same time."
The darkness is comforting as he grunts through his burning cheeks. "Shuddup."
There's another torturous silence wherein Ichigo can hear her brain working, before, "…Were you…trying to start a conversation?"
"No."
"Good, because you suck at it."
Silence.
"I can hear you sulking," is what she follows up with.
"I'm not," he mumbles, and it's a damn miracle he isn't keeping her warm with the sheer force of his stupid face alone.
Though, she might be aware of it now that she sounds amused and indulgent, "Sure, you aren't, Kurosaki."
He exhales. "I'm not…that bad on purpose."
"At social interaction or…Okay, I can feel you judging, ignore me, continue," she waves off with one hand that he feels shifts the air with its movement.
"I don't see why I should."
"Oh, come off it Grumpy, you're the one that wanted to talk."
His grudging silence is admission enough and so, finally, he admits, "I've got writer's block."
He can practically see the way her expression feigns concern as she prods, "Always, or…?"
"Hah."
He feels her chuckle, and then he sees it as the lights above them flicker on in a slow blink.
Her eyes are too blue to just be blue, and the curve of her smile is punctuated by a dimple at her cheek, pink tongue darting out before her brows quirk mischievously. "It's a good thing for you that I've got just the thing that'll help with that."
Despite her size, she hauls him up easily, and when the elevators reach their floor, he's too surprised to stop her as Kuchiki pulls him along by the arm down the hall to her loft, to the look of scandalized conflict on 3D's face.
Ichigo has the strangest feeling that his day isn't going to end as badly as it started.
A/n: I apologize in advance that this chapter took longer, but in my defense, it's also longer in length so I mean…
As usual, if you're looking for a reply to your comments – feel free to reach on the ao3 version of this fic, or find me on my tumblr at everything-withered.
Thank you for reading!