We are getting pretty close to the last arc of this story; only a few chapters left before we start winding things up. Don't know how to feel about that bc this story was so fun to write, but on the other hand I can finally Stop Writing and that's a relief in and of itself because this story is so long lolol
Warning: tooth-rotting fluff
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In the days that led up to movie night, Orihime could hardly contain the seemingly permanent blush on her cheeks. Things had settled back into routine, with Ichigo coming around for P.I again, but they were also...different. While he would carry out his chores dutifully and make light conversation with her and Hanataro like nothing had changed, he would slip copied-out pages of poetry and leave them by her desk before he left.
The contents, be it Neruda, or Shakespeare, or even the occasional Whitman, often left her heady and weak-kneed – wanting.
It was overwhelming, to say the least. It felt personal, the length Ichigo would go to embed in poetry the words they couldn't always say to each other.
Brushing the day's poem into a carefully preserved shoebox under her desk, she straightened.
Whenever Orihime tried to match his fervor with her own actions, he'd brush her off or vehemently refuse anything she offered to give him. She pouted. She was feeling rather spoiled with the affection he gave her abundantly, in his own, special way. She wanted to return the favor.
"Heading out?" Hanataro asked, watching her from his place at the counter. "It's been a while since I've seen you not working overtime." He glanced out of the window exaggeratedly. "It'll probably rain today, for all you know."
"Oh, hush," Orihime chided, gathering her contents and stuffing it in her bag. "I thought I'd catch up on some rest. I...heard it was movie night, later tonight, so I might stop by."
Truthfully, she wanted to get home early so she could get ready for her date. While she knew she couldn't exactly be extravagant or as dolled up as she'd be for a regular date with Ichigo – considering where they were– she still wanted to be presentable, at the least. All those hours spent in the infirmary did little for her hair or her skin and she didn't want Ichigo to think she was taking this lightly.
Hanataro giggled, shaking his head, "It's not very glamorous," he said, "I'm sure you'd have better things to do on a Friday night, Doctor-san."
She thought about Ichigo, at the prospect of hearing his weary opinions and good-natured grumbling, and smiled.
"Hmm, I don't know, Hanataro," she said sweetly, looking over her shoulder as she approached the door. "Something tells me tonight might be fun."
x.x
Ichigo stepped out of the steam of the showers, towel tightly wrung across his waist. From the cubicle adjacent to his, Ishida emerged at the same time. They fell in line with each other as they approached the lines of uniforms folded and placed on the long, wooden benches.
"Where are we on the plan?" Ichigo murmured. With all the new developments, from the shakedown to Ishida's recovery, they had lost a few good days that could have gone into strategizing. Not that Ichigo was too upset about it, but it was important to keep track nonetheless.
"All I'm waiting for is a twine of rope," Uryu explained, shrugging on his clothes. "If that falls into place, we can start picking out dates. Setting things into motion."
"Twine of rope?" Ichigo echoed, rubbing his hair and neck with a scratchy towel as Chad came up on his left. "What do we need that for?"
Ishida glanced at their surroundings briefly, before leaning down so only Ichigo and Chad could hear them. "The pipe from the doctor's office leads to an 18-feet drop, where the prison's sewer water connects out with the ocean. The rope should make our descent easier."
Suddenly, they felt the 'thwack' of a hand on their backs.
"Not starting without me, are you?" Shinji asked, stepping into their space, a little too close for comfort. "Hope you haven't forgotten about ol' Shinji just yet."
"How could we?" Ichigo muttered dryly, under his breath, "You won't give us the chance to."
Ishida and Chad snorted. Long past the regret of their mistakes, they had accepted that Shinji was a thorn in their side that they would simply have to put up with if they wanted to get out of here.
Shinji rolled his eyes and waved dismissively. "When are we heading out, anyway?" he asked, following the three cellmates out of the common showers. They stopped for a pat down, then proceeded straight into the main corridors.
"Initially, we had decided on the night of the 2nd," Ishida explained, shoving his hands in his pocket. "The neap tide would have tempered the waters, making it relatively safe for us to swim. But because of the recent storm…"
"The waters will be dangerously high," Chad finished, with a frown.
"Precisely," Ishida replied grimly.
"Well, then I say we postpone the trip by a few days," Shinji proposed, "Wait until the water level is good for a swim."
Chad and Ishida looked stricken. Ichigo regarded them and sighed,
"We've wasted enough time already," he explained calmly, shaking his head at Shinji, "We're just going to have to risk it."
Shinji shrugged, giving them a sleazy grin. "They didn't call me 'sidestroke Shinji' in high school for nothin'" he declared, before skipping away. His figure bounced from left to right joyously, joining another group of inmates before disappearing around the corner for good.
"If he sets us back, I'll kill him with my bare hands," Ishida muttered, shaking his head.
"Spoken like a true con," Ichigo remarked, catching Chad grinning fondly between the two of them. "What?"
Chad shook his head. They began trudging up to their cells together.
x.x
"We heard someone was going on a date," Yumichika announced, flaunting his way into cell #42. Ikkaku was close on his heels, though he seemed a tad disinterested compared to his counterpart.
Ishida pointed at Ichigo without looking up from his book. Over at the mirror, Ichigo was prodding at his eyebrows distastefully, a deep frown etched on his face. He was eyeing his facial hair, contemplating whether or not he had enough to merit a shave.
"Kurosaki's going on a date?" Ikkaku commented, a little slow on the uptake. "With who?"
"With whom." Ishida corrected, irritably.
Ikkaku frowned, bringing his hands up. "S'what I just asked."
"Oh, for the love of–"
"It's not a date," Ichigo muttered, running his hands through his hair for the millionth time.
"Oh dear," Yumichika cooed, shaking his head pitifully at Ichigo's form. He was wearing his uniform, dull gray button-up shirt over a plain, white pullover. He had his simplistic navy blue trousers on underneath, a disaster of a color scheme.
"Is it that bad?" Ichigo scowled, regarding himself a little self-consciously.
"It's prison, Kurosaki," Ishida droned, "We don't exactly have a closet full of options. Besides, if the doctor fell in love with you regardless of your daily, unkempt attire, I highly doubt her standards are that high in the first place."
"Gee, thanks," Ichigo muttered sarcastically, flipping him off.
"Maybe take off the uniform shirt?" Chad suggested, leaning against the bed to regard Ichigo.
Ichigo paused, then began unbuttoning his shirt. He felt a little uncomfortable being watched by Ikkaku, Yumichika, Ishida and Chad, like he was some kind of exhibit in an aquarium and they were waiting with bated breaths for something to happen. When his shirt slipped dramatically off his shoulders, he looked up at them expectantly.
Ikkaku snorted.
Chad frowned.
Ishida shook his head.
Yumichika looked absolutely scandalized.
"Oh, this simply cannot do," he cried, stepping forward to assess Ichigo critically, "You look like a youth pastor in that V-neck, Kurosaki."
Ichigo seethed. "If anyone has any other suggestions?" he said through gritted teeth, crossing his arms.
Ikkaku shrugged.
Yumichika, however, turned him around his shoulders. "Maybe take your undershirt off and wear a vest," he suggested, with a small frown. "It is true that you don't have a lot of options, but you can always make do with what you do have."
"And what's that?" Ichigo asked, his voice muffled as he began taking off his shirt. He quickly pulled his vest from his bed and slipped it overhead, before turning to Yumichika with a questioning frown.
Yumichika slapped his bare biceps. "These bad boys!" he cheered, seeming mightily satisfied with his solution. "If the doctor's only been exposed to city boys, you can sweep her off her feet with all this unseen muscle."
"Hell yeah," Ikkaku replied, flaunting his own.
Ichigo didn't bother saying she had seen a lot of unseen muscle of his; Yumichika knowing about their relationship was bad enough, he didn't need more rumors spreading around and endangering them further.
Ichigo raised his eyebrows, appraising himself in the mirror doubtfully. All said and done, he didn't exactly look bad. Wearing a vest was a lot better than showing up after hours in uniform, anyway. Even if he felt a little exposed.
The insecurity of the moment was far overridden by his excitement, however. Somewhere on the other side, Orihime was probably getting ready for their first date and that made his stomach swell in anticipation.
Loud banging on his cell door snapped him out of it.
"How many times we gotta tell you not to loiter after dinner?" Iba asked, staring pointedly at Ikkaku with a baton in hand. Ikkaku made a threatening face at him.
"We're leaving, we're leaving," Yumichika singsonged, side-stepping out of Iba's way and dragging Ikkaku with him. Once they were out of the cell, he looked over his shoulder and winked, "Have fun at movie night!"
Ichigo shook his head, ignoring the blush starting to form at his cheeks.
Was Orihime there already? He hoped tonight wouldn't be too much of a letdown for her.
"That's right, Kurosaki," Iba said suddenly, like he just remembered, "They're setting up shop right about now, so get your ass outta here." He banged the cell door again, and then departed down the walkway.
Ichigo sighed, wiping his sweat down on his pants. He regarded Ishida and Chad with a nod. "I'm outta here."
"Tell Dr. Inoue we said hi," Chad replied, with a wave. Ishida nodded in agreement. Just as Ichigo was stepping out of his cell, Chad grabbed him by the shoulder, voice low enough for only the two of them to hear. "Forget about everything else tonight, Ichigo. Just...enjoy each other."
Ichigo's eyes widened, then softened with a smile. No doubt, Chad still felt guilty about the urgency of his situation, but they both knew Ichigo was adamant about burdening his own shoulders with the problems of his friends anyway. And it seemed like, for one night, the universe had somehow bent and forged until it threw a free pass into his lap. Just for one night.
"We will," he promised, clapping Chad on his shoulder.
And then he was out of there, headed to go see what all this fuss around Godzilla was about.
x.x
Seireitei didn't show movies often, but when they did, it was in this old, box-like office tucked into the far end of the common canteen. A ground floor room, it housed nearly thirty, rackety plastic chairs that aimed to serve as seats. A tiny, outdated projector was settled into a glass cubicle, the luminance of the film vectoring to a screen.
When Ichigo walked into the room, he was surprised to see how empty it was. Spare one or two inmates dawdling around, there didn't seem to be that much of a hype for the week's movie.
Usually, from his experience, the only movies that seemed to garner any kind of attention at all were the famous American ones, or the classic slapstick comedies. He'd occasionally caught Shunsui in here, for the more niche, foreign films. Chad and Ishida often accompanied him when he wanted to watch Scarface. But tonight, it was mostly empty.
Ichigo wasn't complaining, though. The fewer the occupants in the room, the more leeway he would have to sit next to Orihime and go unnoticed. He picked a chair in the far back of the office, testing his palm over the surface of the adjacent ones in hopes that he could find something sturdy and comfortable for Orihime.
Speaking of, she hadn't turned up yet.
He did another quick glance around the room, noticing how Iba was the guard in-charge for the night. And, to Ichigo's surprise, he seemed to have roped Dr. Kotetsu into joining him. He hoped whatever that was – most likely an awkward work-date attempt by Iba – would distract him enough to stave his attention off of himself and Orihime.
Ichigo sighed, settling back into his chair. As he waited, he counted all the cracks on the ceilings, the little rips in the carpet below. Wow, he had never seen that bald guy before. His hair loss could give Ikkaku competition.
Ichigo swiveled his head around again. Where the hell was she? He wondered. Surely she would show? What if she had gotten lost?
He felt a sudden twinge of panic. What if she had gotten lost? Shit! He should have told her, drawn her a map or something. A wave of doom began crashing over him when new, indistinct inmates started piling in. That feeling increased tenfold when the lights flickered off and Iba got up to go close the door.
Still no sign of Orihime.
He almost stood up, risked telling Iba to hold the curtains for a damn minute, when a slight squeal came from behind the fast closing door. One dainty hand slithered through, holding its fingers out to signal its entry. Iba quickly stepped out of the way and opened the door, the new flood of light revealing her standing in the doorway. Orihime.
Ichigo let out a heavier breath of relief than he knew he was holding in. Though, looking at her now, his breath was again slowly departing him. Despite the prison's dress code regulations, she had managed to outshine in her beige coat and high-waisted jeans, a pretty little thing that tucked in her dark sweater.
He frowned, wondering why she was so heavily covered when the weather was hardly that cold. If they were put together, he was sure any passerby would have a hard time discerning what the actual temperature was.
Orihime was here, nonetheless. And now that that debacle was over, the challenge was in getting her attention without unintentionally attracting Iba's. Ichigo straightened in his seat as discreetly as possible, hoping that would signal his location to her.
Luckily for him, Orihime seemed to be searching for him too. The golden loops dangling from her ears shook as she kept turning around, then bobbed in delightful recognition when she spotted him. Laughing to herself lightly, she began stepping over other rows of chairs to come join him.
As she got closer, however, Ichigo noticed something was up. While one hand was in her coat pocket, there seemed to be bulges emerging from...odd places. She crinkled when she moved. She looked slightly bulkier than usual, and if she hadn't been wearing some sort of ankle length boots, he would have accused her of wobbling.
He held Orihime's chair out for her as she approached. She wheezed out a quick 'thank you' and collapsed straight into the seat.
"Hey," Ichigo whispered, leaning into her. "Are you alright?"
"Just fine," she quipped, catching her breath. She turned around back and forth, double-checking to ensure no one was looking at her. Then, when the projector's lights reeled on with a slow whir, she turned to him. "Sorry I'm late–" she whispered.
He was just about to brush off her apology, when she revealed the inside of her coat to him,
"– I was trying to sneak in some snacks for you," she explained, looking up at him, flushed. In the darkness of the room, he could still make out the cheesy grin on her face, looking all for the world like a top-notch criminal who had pulled off a heist.
He shook his head, ignoring the flood of affection blooming in his chest. "You didn't have to," he said quietly, helping her take her coat off without spilling over the packets of candy and potato chips.
"You spoil me all the time," she pointed out, with a small frown. Then, she lowered her lashes, let her smile go purposefully coy and timid as she spoke. "It would make me feel better if you accepted this."
Ichigo swallowed, and then nodded begrudgingly as he took a bag of chips into his lap.
Victory! She thought, feeling satisfied. Once they were settled, she undid the banana clip keeping her hair in place, tucking her legs under her thighs.
On screen, the opening credits had just begun. If Orihime found it odd that she was in a state-level penitentiary, on a date, she gave no indication. There was a serene, excited look on her face as she split open a bag of gummy bears between them. She popped one into her mouth and made a fishy-face at Ichigo, collapsing into giggles at her own silly behavior. Then, she turned back to regard the screen with heightened interest.
Ichigo's heart clenched. He craned his head over his shoulder to check on Iba. When he saw the man still deep in conversation with Dr. Kotetsu, he slowly leaned back and let his arm rest behind the head of her chair. The cold metal sent a shiver up his spine. It was chilly in here. He wondered if it was such a good idea after all to listen to Yumichika.
Orihime peeled her eyes away from the screen. "You okay?" she murmured.
He ran his hands up his bare arms for a second, then shook himself off. "Just cold," he replied.
She quirked her eyebrow. "Why aren't you in your pullover?" she asked, bunching her coat up with her hands. "Do you want to wear this?"
He regarded her coat – her weapon to sneak in snacks for him – with a grimace. When he looked back up at her, an idea flashed in his mind. He glanced at Iba again, then inched closer to Orihime to the point where half his butt was resting on his chair, half on hers. He gently put his arm around her shoulders, dragging her to his chest.
He felt her sigh, before resting her hand on his abdomen. "Is this better?" she murmured, feeling a faint blush on her cheeks.
He grinned, thankful that the low light had granted him this blessing in disguise. "Yeah."
As it turned out, this position was both wonderful and torturous because every time a particularly interesting scene came up, Orihime would point out some wacky behind-the-scenes detail about the movie or the actors, low in his ear ("That's actually a guy in a big suit" or "A cast member almost died filming this"). At this rate, he was only half-watching the movie, far more entertained by her gasping and squealing commentary. The fact that he was enjoying outside food after years of chalky gravy was only an added bonus.
Ichigo curled one hand around her rib, leaning slightly away so he could watch her face during a particularly intense action scene of Godzilla tearing through the city. Her mouth was in a seemingly permanent 'O,' the lion's share of her snacks already wolfed down in her enthusiasm.
In the shifting light of the film, he could see every curve of eyelash, every blotch of birthmark that distinguished her to a point where he'd know her anywhere, eyes half-open or not at all.
"Orihime," he muttered, bringing her head closer so his mouth rested on her ear.
"Hmm?" She wriggled, feeling slightly tickled.
"I love you," he confessed, feeling the subsequent shudder from her body in his own bones.
Orihime sucked in a sharp breath, turning to regard him in awe. Pink smeared over her cheeks, like spilled ink on parchment, and it was perhaps the most lovely he'd seen her in the time they'd known each other.
"I love you too," she replied, her voice going thin and watery before she turned to the screen again. And though she was watching the movie, he had a feeling the gears in her brain were shifting and grinding onto something else.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then slightly shrank away so she could focus on the movie.
If anyone accused him of being sappy, they'd have another thing coming.
x.x
At the end of the day, the prison version of Godzilla was watered down with many scene cuts to accommodate both the prison timings, and the rating requirements. And while the scenes weren't cut perfectly or coherently, it wasn't a bad movie altogether. Although they probably shouldn't have named the movie after the kaiju if the kaiju was going to, well, die.
But that was just his opinion.
As the credits began rolling, Ichigo knew he would only have a split second of privacy with Orihime before the lights came back on. Beside him, it seemed Orihime was thinking the same thing as she was shrugging her coat on her shoulders. All the snack wrappers had surreptitiously disappeared back behind her jeans' pockets and even the seams of her shoes.
It belatedly occurred to Ichigo that it must not have been comfortable for her to bring those in.
"Did you like the movie?" Orihime asked, arching her head to the side as she stretched.
"Yeah, I did," he replied, spotting Iba at his peripheral, heading over to the switchboard. "I–"
"Ichigo –" Orihime stopped, then flushed. They both stared at each other.
"Sorry, go ahead," he said, gesturing ahead of him hurriedly.
Orihime followed his sight, then realized there wouldn't be enough time for them to talk, now that the lights were going to come back on.
"Thank you for doing this," she said, swooping in to place a quick kiss on his cheek. "I had a great time."
Just as Ichigo was about to lean in to give her a kiss of his own, the overhead lights came on. He stopped midway, blinking owlishly. His already puckered lips fell into an embarrassed scowl.
"Alright, wrap it up, movie night is over," Iba announced loudly, patting his baton against his palm. "Keep it moving!"
Inmates began to mechanically rise from their seats. Ichigo shot Orihime an apologetic look, but she was already scrambling up and grabbing her purse so they wouldn't be spotted together. She looked left and right, then fit seamlessly among the horde of inmates and nightly prison staff that were retreating, sparing him only a quick glance as she headed to the door.
Had they been outside, he would have probably driven her himself back to her apartment. Or even taken her out for a late dinner, so they could talk some more. But he wasn't about to push his luck, and all said and done, tonight had been great. There was no point dwelling on the possibilities when he already had a good thing going for him right now.
Ichigo began walking up the aisle. At the door, he noticed Orihime had stopped to talk to Iba and Dr. Kotetsu. As he passed, he brushed his thumb against the back of her wrist, watching her stubbornly suppress a surprised shiver.
"Drive safe," he muttered, low enough for just her to hear it.
Between snippets of conversation passing by, he turned over his shoulder to see her nod her head slightly. Her cheeks were a timid shade of pink, hands gripping her bag tightly.
Feeling a small smile quirk up his lips, he left her there to head back to his cell.