Chapter 2: Sunday Morning
~Ichigo~
He was going to the stupid Chappy Convention because:
A) She forced him into it.
B) Saying 'no' to her was harder than saying 'no' to a puppy. And no, that did not mean that he found her cute, but rather she had trouble interpreting his words. 'No' somehow always = 'Yes'
C) What kind of friend would he be if he didn't accompany her? If she was going to go hyper on Chappy and make a complete fool of herself, you can bet your ass that he's going to be the one with the camera and snapping the photos!
So there!
Ichigo.
XXX
His sleeping senses stirred as something akin to a nudge was felt on his shoulders and the sound of someone calling his name invaded his ears. Something inside of him was jolted awake by the sound- not enough to keep him completely awake, but there was enough jolts to power his brain to actually start thinking.
And that was exactly the last thing on his mind right now. For crying out loud, he barely scraped through the agonizing 8 hours he spent on his night shift! Even though by now he's supposed to be a third year surgical resident and practically a veteran in the 'staying awake the whole damn night' business, truth was- a man needed his beauty sleep.
So for God's sake, just let him sleep!
He rolled to his side; hating that evil voice that separated him from his dreams by the minute as he clamped a pillow around his ears.
It was just too noisy and too early for him. Was the stupid radio on again?
He frowned.
Where's the goddamned 'snooze' button?
Ichigo!
Ichigo!
Wake up! You oaf!
I said 'wake up'!
Ichigo Kurosaki!
XXX
There it was again.
He frowned. Somehow that voice sounded awfully familiar. And just where exactly had he heard it before?
XXX
A hard jab caught him in his chest, causing him to double over spluttering for air. Wide awake while gasping for air, he carefully shied his amber eyes away from the sunlight streaming from the open window before he struggled to focus the bleary sight of the newcomer against the strong glares of the morning sun.
The moment his vision cleared, he found himself lying on his plush bed in his tastefully decorated bachelor pad and was currently left under the wrathful gaze of his favourite raven-head in all her 4'9" glory, glaring daggers at him, as if he was a monster who ate kitties and children for breakfast.
He gulped. If looks could kill, then Ichigo was pretty sure Rukia Kuchiki was a woman behind bars and he, the poor soul lying six feet under with a piece of stone tablet that read 'R.I.P.'.
He scowled, trying best to rein in his coughing fit.
The warmth and heat of the morning sun danced on naked skin as he propped himself upwards to lean against the headboard. He averted his eyes from the light and instead focused them on his best friend.
Just what was that all about?
"G.. cough.. G.. cough…Good God, you vicious she-devil! What were you trying to do? Murder me in my sleep?" he asked incredulously while patting his chest viciously.
Her pretty little nose was held high, impressively ignoring his loud remarks. From the corner of her sooty dark eyelashes, she glared at him. A searing pair of hot coals that burnt upon contact held him astounded and utterly bewildered.
"Do you even know what the time is!" she screeched. Her arms flailing about in a dramatic way as she made flying gestures amidst her tirade.
He yawned but was wise enough to do it discreetly.
What exactly was she up to? In the span of merely minutes talking to her, she had completely lost him.
He took a glance at his alarm clock to see bold red numerals blinking luminously in his line of vision. It was 7 in the morning. He did a double take. The frown on his face deepened.
"Christ, Rukia! You freaking woke me up before 9 on a Sunday morning!"
Giving a loud groan, he quickly dived under the covers, pulling them up to cover himself. "You could at least let me sleep in. I just spent the past 8 hours working my ass off on the graveyard shift!"
"Get up, you sleep-craving strawberry. Ichigo! GET UP!" she hollered as she began to tug sharply at the covers.
"NO!" he roared as he seized the ends of his blanket, extremely reluctant to surrender the warmth of his blanket and the rest of his beautiful Sunday morning.
Whatever Rukia had planned for him certainly did not involve sleep and breakfast in bed. So unless he was looking forward to a very busy day filled with all sorts of body-numbing activities, he was going to have to give his best at saving his blanket and staying in bed.
"Rukia, you have got to get it through your tough skull- Sunday mornings are for sleeping in! Repeat after me, 'Sunday mornings are for sl- HEY!"
He was rudely cut off from his sentence when his best friend started grabbing hold of his blanket and pulled hard. He gritted his teeth under the covers and held on to them. Well, if that's the way she wants to play it. He was damn well not going to lose in this tug of war.
"Damn it, you oaf! I said, let go!" came her indignant demand.
"Over my dead body, you evil imp!"
The temperature in the room dropped dangerously low before she started shrieking.
"Did you just call me an 'imp', Kurosaki!"
She heaved in anger. Her tone was bordering dangerously close to being murderous. If he wasn't busy keeping a firm hold on the blanket and struggling to stay under it, he would have laughed.
"Well what if I did, Kuchiki!" he taunted.
And as expected, she took the jibe.
"Why you- Ichigo! This is your last chance to let go! "
"Read my lips, midget! N-O!" he hollered, making sure to grab a fistful of the soft material in both hands and keeping any bright orange strands of hair safe under the cover of the blanket. The vicious authoress can be dangerous at times, especially when she feels downright nasty enough to tug at a certain orange-head's hair.
Ichigo shuddered at the memory.
"You just sealed your own fate, berry-head!"
He refused to back down. "Bring it on, pipsqueak!"
A heated tug-of-war ensued between the two best friends while insults and name-calling flew across the bedroom.
Ooof!
XXX
A loud crash resonated throughout the spacious apartment. The constant pulling and bantering had suddenly reached an impasse as silence drowned the room. Ichigo froze.
"Rukia?" he called out tentatively- his head still hidden under the blanket. "Are you okay?"
"Of course I'm not, you baka! Look what you made me do!"
With both hands still clutching the ends of his blanket tightly, he cautiously raised his head from the covering blanket- only to see Rukia plopped disgracefully on the hard wooden flooring.
The navy blue dress she had on had hiked up to her thighs, showing skin while the look of annoyance on her scowling face intensified. Her glossy black hair was slightly ruffled and it certainly didn't help that her hands had clenched themselves into two bundled-up fists with her malicious intent afloat throughout the room.
But even that couldn't stop him from snorting. The twinkle of amusement was evident in his eyes.
"Stop whatever you're doing right now, Kurosaki!" she growled.
The smirk on his face could only broaden itself.
"And pray tell, what exactly am I doing, Kuchiki?"
She glared venomously at him as she tightened her fists.
"It's NOT funny!"
"Says the midget who's sitting on the floor," he smirked.
The bed covers he draped over himself had slipped until they were down to the waist-band of his trousers, showcasing his well-sculpted abs and washboard chest. He put in the hard work to maintain his physique and he was proud of it.
He peeked from the corner of his eyes. Same narrowed eyes, same clenched fists, same annoyed and irritated as hell expression. Girls, well- most girls, would die just to see him stripped naked in front of them, but not Rukia.
He suppressed a chuckle at the thought. Rukia kicks his shins and practically orders him to put on some decent clothes instead of prancing around half-naked like an animal.
XXX
"AHHHHHHH! Ichigo! What the hell are you thinking, you idiot! Put on a shirt before my landlady or God-forbid, Nii-sama comes in and gets a heart attack!" she screamed as she frantically combed through the open drawers, digging for a T-shirt before throwing one that looked too large to be hers and flowery with a message that read 'Peace be the Answer' towards him.
He cringed at her choice of clothing, inspecting the T-shirt like it was a bug under a microscope and sniffed the offending garment curiously. There was something oddly fruity about it. Putting it on, he viewed his reflection in the mirror. It was a tight fit.
He grimaced. Did she keep random guy T-shirts that just happened to look like she got them on clearance or were those her type? How did she end up with such a horrible piece of crap?
Before he had the chance to open his mouth, however she had already thrown out her explanation.
"It was Ran's. She left it during one of her sleepovers. I heard that it was supposed to be Renji's Christmas present." She replied in a blithe manner.
His face paled. With both hands on the hem on the pink T-shirt, he wasted no time throwing the atrocious thing into the washing basket.
Rukia glared at him.
"Oh for God's sake, Rukia! You can't be serious! That shirt is so ugly that even Renji didn't want it. You can't expect me to wear that! Besides, I'm dressed! I'm wearing a pair of jeans. That's hardly scandalous enough to cause anyone much less Byakuya an orgasm on the spot!"
"ICHIGO!"
XXX
He winced.
He corrected himself. Rukia screams and kicks his shins. It was wonder he hadn't gone deaf over the years. Sometimes being Rukia Kuchiki's best friend was synonymous with being her 'kick-him-in-the-shins-and-he-won't-sue' person.
He tapped his finger against his unshaven chin, feeling a rough patch of stubble that was quickly forming underneath.
Why did she treat him so differently? What type of guys did she find attractive?
Heck, did she even have a type?
No, scratch that- did Rukia Kuchiki, international best-selling author/Kuchiki heiress/his best friend even date? At all?
He frowned.
Hang on- did he actually want Rukia to notice his perfect good looks and killer abs?
What the hell was wrong with him? It's Rukia he's talking about here! She's his best friend since college, his confidante (strictly platonic-wise), his personal pain in the neck, his nakama.
Why was he even thinking about her type?
It was so wrong in so many levels. He shook his head clear of the ridiculous notions. Really, what was he thinking? No way was he thinking about Rukia in that way!
EW!
He grimaced. He must have been more sleep depraved than he thought. It's like eating Inoue's curry-powdered vanilla pudding with bean paste all over again.
No! Rukia is a friend. His best friend- nothing more and nothing less.
That's it.
CASE CLOSED!
END OF THE STORY!
THE END!
He threw the covers up until it reached his chin as he laid on his back. He shut his eyes tight as he turned to his side hoping that the midget would stop bothering him and let him be.
Suffice to say he was dead wrong. And the next thing he experienced simply took his breath away.
Literally.
Faster than he could blink, a dead weight had seemingly latched itself onto him- flying from nowhere and ended up on his middle, knocking the wind out of him as the weight settled and the force of it kicked in.
Tawny eyelashes fluttered open out of their own accord. Amber-coloured irises blinked out the tears rapidly as the shock settled. And just like that, amber met amethyst.
His breath hitched and really the reason behind it was quite simple, because Rukia Kuchiki was currently lying on top of him. Her small frame was practically molded against his lanky and half-naked (saved by the blanket) form with him trapped between her legs.
Holy Jesus, his best friend was straddling him!
A complete meltdown assaulted him head-on. He told himself he wasn't even going to see the rest of their entangled bodies, but his eyes were still wide open and he saw quite simply, everything.
Her palms splayed openly on the blanket covering his chest. A single layer of cotton was all that stood between naked skin, separating her delicate digits from his chest.
He gulped nervously. This was not good at all.
His line of sight trailed upwards. They're close enough to bump noses, close enough for him to see the faint flicker of cerulean that laced her amethyst eyes, close enough to see the lines that ran across her lips as she licked them.
He wondered if she was affected by him as much as he was by her. He searched for his answer in her expressive eyes- the pair of darkening jewels that threaten to swallow him whole- body, mind and soul.
Wait- he blinked before he started cussing mentally, berating himself for his stupidity.
That was so cliché.
'Swallow him whole'?
Dear God, was he for real?
No, he told himself. This had gone too far.
With a turn of his head, he broke eye contact. He heard her exhale. Her warm breath strayed a little too close to his reddening ears. He hoped she didn't notice them or hear the pulsating beatings of his heart that was ramming against his rib-cage with every shuddering breath he took.
Stop fidgeting and act calm.
XXX
Clearing his throat awkwardly, he asked, "It's Chappy, isn't it?"
"How did yo-"
He rolled his eyes dramatically, not even bothering to turn and look at her to gauge her reaction and expression. He really could read her like a book.
Isn't that scary?
"Rukia, there's only two things in the world that can make you wake up before 9 on a weekend morning or public holiday. It's either Chappy or Byakuya."
"Don't call Nii-sama by his given name! It's disrespectful," she pouted.
He looked at her dead in the eyes. The embarrassment he initially experienced was ebbing away as he soon became comfortable in the position. Well, as comfortable as any grown, hot-blooded male would be if they have their best friend who also happened to be a girl lying on top of him.
"It's either that or 'stick-in-the-ass'. Which one would you prefer?" he asked in mock seriousness.
She gave him a light punch on the chest without commenting. And then, quite suddenly as if struck by divine intervention for thought, she decided to rest her head on his chest. His heart skipped a beat as his hands turned clammy. His Adam's apple bobbed and he retaliated by evening his breathing.
Now if only his thundering heart could be still.
Even underneath the blanket, he could feel her hair fanning and spread out on top of him. She smelt like lavender, winter roses and clean laundry. And he soon noticed that despite her fiery temper that flared up easily, her body temperature was a completely different story.
He lifted his arm out from the comfortingly warm blanket and wrapped it around her in a somewhat awkward manner; resembling a makeshift hug. Underneath his finger tips, her body felt cool and fragile, her skin soft and smooth to the touch.
He shut his eyes as a smile appeared on his lips.
He couldn't think of a better way to spend Sunday morning.
XXX
"You know, there's a teensy weensy flaw with that statement, Ichigo."
"Well then, would the great Rukia Kuchiki care to enlighten me?"
She laughed- a cross between a giggle and a snort. The vibrations were felt on his sensitive skin as goosebumps rose from contact. He tried to peer at her expression but she had hid her face effectively by lying on top of him- her face was pressed against the blanket and he had to crane his neck just to catch a glimpse of her neck.
He reclined against the soft mattress somewhat disappointed.
"There are only three things that would make me wake up before 9 on a Sunday morning," she said, turning and propping herself up with her elbow, her blue-toned irises met his with complete sincerity and honesty as she finished.
"And you're the third, Ichigo."
His heart skipped a beat. Something in his chest just swelled hearing that. His heart was thundering so loudly that it was a miracle she hadn't noticed yet.
Ba-thump!
Ba-thump!
Ba-thump!
XXX
He licked his dry lips. What exactly was his best friend doing to him?
But then after a lengthy pause, he chuckled, shaking his head clear of the silly notions going through his mind. He wrote it off as typical Rukia behavior. Oh God, the complex enigma called Rukia Kuchiki- his best friend. If he could get a dollar for every time he figured her out, then he would be a billionaire right now.
It was just so typical her to be like that- crazy and angry at one minute, sweet and kind at the next. She's just so whimsical that it drives anyone crazy. Sometimes it drives him crazy, keeping up with her mood swings.
But she's Rukia.
He could never stay mad at her for over half a day and he could never bring himself to refuse her. And that was why, five minutes from now he knew he was going to regret what he did.
So before he had the time to change his mind, he opened his mouth and signed his own death warrant.
"So… whose car are we driving?"
She frowned. Her lips pulled to form a curving line with a raised eyebrow just to show her puzzlement of his remark.
He faked a cough, looking away from her as he did. He so did not find that head-tilt cute.
"You know, the Chappy Convention?" he prompted.
Her eyes widened to their full extent, shinning with jewel-like brilliance- almost, he thought like a little girl curious with how her daddy knew exactly what Christmas gift she wanted. It was so juvenile and innocent, and something he just didn't think anyone in the world but her could pull off.
"How did you know that it was a Convention?"
He fought the urge to roll his eyes for the nth time of the day.
"Rukia, it's a Sunday. It's always Chappy on Sunday mornings."
Author's note:
Edited.
How did you think their morning went? A little too fluffy and sweet? PM and review to let me know.
Next Chapter: It's time for Rukia's take on their 'mornings together'. Get ready for another one of Hese's fluff overdose.