The Cold Hands of Death
By Lady Pyrefly
Author's Note: Bleach pwns my soul. In like, every way. I just got back from my friend's house where we watched the first, like, nine or ten episodes, and already I know I'm a Rukia/Ichigo shipper. Heh. Fate, maybe? Either way, I so hope you like this.
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Rukia shivered. This horrid temporary body was wearing thin. Her hands were cold. Deathly cold, if you'll forgive the pun. She pursed her lips inside the dark of Ichigo's closet, and buried her hands and head under the blanket. Her breath warmed the inside of the covers, and Rukia was warm.
Kind of.
Well, warmer than before.
A little.
Ruika, frustrated at her puny temp body, kicked her blanket down, and turned on her side, folding her arms in annoyance. She shivered, but was too proud to bend down and pick up the comforter she scorned. Rukia sniffed haughtily.
But she was still cold.
Rukia began to shiver, her teeth chattering and her limbs shaking. But she still refused to rescue her abandoned covers. Pride goeth before a fall.
The closet door slid open. "What's the matter?" Ichigo deadpanned, his eyes bleary with sleep.
Wide eyed, and catching a glimpse of a red clock face screaming, "3:40" Rukia stayed silent.
"You're cold, aren't you?"
Rukia nodded slowly, eyes still huge, breath still shaky.
Ichigo placed three fingers on her hand, clutched close to her body. "Ice," he murmured. "Well, come on then." He walked back through the bluish light of night towards his bed.
"Where?" Rukia asked, finding her voice.
Ichigo yawned. He sighed and turned, grabbing Rukia by the wrist and pulled her down off her cot.
He drowsily led her over to his bed and promptly fell over on to it. Ruika stood at the edge, and shivered, switching from foot to foot. "Just come on," Ichigo said, losing patience. "You're going to freeze, and then what'll I do?" His voice was oddly muffled by the pillow over his face.
Rukia's heart was beating oddly. From the cold or his words she didn't know. Although the saner half of Rukia's mind whispered that he meant his Death responsibilities and nothing more.
With an anguished cry of annoyance, Ichigo pushed himself up into a sitting position and grabbed Rukia's waist. All of this contact was making her dizzy. But Ichigo either didn't notice or didn't care, and pulled her down onto the bed next to him. "You're freezing," he murmered, already half asleep.
Rukia snuggled down into the blankets, hardly noticing that they were a lot softer than hers. Ichigo, not as asleep as Rukia thought, wrapped his arms around the Death, and enveloped her hands in his. They were cold. For the second time, I must make the pun, cold as death.
"You've gotta be back in the closet when Yuzu wakes me up this morning," he mumbled, just in case he forgot, or became accustomed to this.
"Yun-hun," was Rukia's witty reply. She was lost, a bit drunk off the delusional contact she'd dreamed of. For once in a long time, Rukia was warm. Blissfully, wonderfully, thankfully warm.