A/N: So the response my IchigoxRukia one-shot received left me wondering if I should make it into a story instead. Sooo, this chapter is just a taste of the story, hence why it's only about 1,000 words long.

If you like this and think I should continue the story, review this or PM me and let me know what you think. If I don't receive much response, I'll probably just kill the idea of the story and leave it as a one-shot. Anyway, let me know!


"Doubt"

Ichigo sneezed, waving his hand in the air to get the dust out of his face. He grimaced, disgusted. "Well," he coughed, "this is..."

"Just the right place," Rukia finished his sentence. She dropped the box full of her belongings.

Ichigo completely disagreed; he ran a finger across the small window in the room, leaving behind a single clean line on it as the rest of the window remained covered in dust and possibly... mold. Seeing the ecstatic expression on Rukia's face, Ichigo didn't have the heart to tell her what a mess their new apartment was. "You're serious about this, aren't you?" Ichigo asked.

Rukia faced him with a gleaming look; Ichigo sighed. Ever since Ichigo quit being a prostitute and declared his love to her, Rukia's been... like this. She quit her job and became so carefree. She was the one who suggested that they live a life without caring about money, hence why there were living in... poverty.

"You know," Ichigo crossed his arms, "I respect your decision to live like this. I don't care about the money, but I hope you're not doing all this because of what Renji did." That last thing Ichigo wanted was for Rukia to still be thinking about that red-headed jerk. Afterall, the only reason why she would be trying to live a life without money was because of the trauma she received because of it.

"Don't be an idiot," Rukia said, already unpacking. The living room of the place was already filled with necessary furniture - a sofa, table, and a phone. Ichigo shrugged off his worries, knowing that the scowling look she held just now meant that she didn't want to talk about the past. "Are you sleeping on the couch or in the bedroom?" she asked.

Ichigo frowned, confused. Weren't they a couple now? Don't couples sleep together in the same bed when they move in together? Ichigo chuckled to himself; he knew that Rukia was still an amateur when it came to love. He figured he'd just take it slow with her. "I'll take the couch," he said, plopping onto the couch, coughing again when a wave of dust lifted into the air from it.

Rukia brushed her hand along Ichigo's head, patting off the dust. Ichigo's eyes locked with hers. He took in a deep breath, gulping. Was something going to happen? They've been dating for a month already, but he hasn't received a single kiss ever since they last kissed. "Oh," she looked at the clock that hung on the wall, "aren't you supposed to be working right now?"

Ichigo's eyes bulged as he jumped off the couch, "I'll see you later tonight!" He waved to Rukia as he left the apartment.


Dashing Diner

"Boy," Ichigo's manager, Kenji, spoke, "you've been working really hard. It's difficult to find responsible workers like you nowadays." Kenji was a slender man in his mid 30's. He was quite a handsome man, though he could never meet up to Ichigo. His sleek black hair was always kept in a neat tail and he was almost never seen without a smile.

Ichigo gave a suspicious laugh. Responsible? Kenji wouldn't be saying that if he knew that Ichigo almost arrived late to work today. Ichigo scrubbed down the tables and cleaned the floor before leaving. "Well... I sort of have to start acting responsibly. I have someone I need to take care of."

Kenji smirked, "Pregnant girlfriend?"

Ichigo turned a shade of pink. "Just a girlfriend," he quickly said. Ichigo couldn't imagine himself being a father. It was unthinkable. Babies are just so fragile and weak... Ichigo really thought that if he were to ever hold one, it'd explode.

"A girlfriend you need to take care of? She handicapped or something?" Kenji asked. He didn't mean it to be offending in any way, of course.

Ichigo wondered to himself before replying. "In a way, yes." Rukia was still deeply hurt from being used. Ichigo understood that even though the pain she burdened wasn't obvious. It was his job, he felt, to help her get back up on her feet.

Kenji whistled, "Some dedication you've got. Anyway, remember to lock the door when you leave," he said, bidding farewell to Ichigo.

After locking up the place, Ichigo headed home. The only good thing about the apartment was that it's close to his workplace. It only takes about five minutes to get to work and to come back home. "I'm home," Ichigo said, entering his apartment room. "I brought food," he called, setting the leftover food he received from his workplace on the table. He looked around for a certain shorty. Though he didn't find her, he did see that the place was cleaner.

"Welcome home." Ichigo turned around to see Rukia. "Is that your way to get me to come to you? By saying there's food?" she quirked a brow. Ichigo gave a sly smile. Her angry expression faded into a pleased one. "You know me too well," she said, sitting down to eat. "How was work?"

Although it didn't show on his face, Ichigo was content with the way things were. He didn't mind going to work everyday if he was able to come home to a family.

"Is something wrong?" Rukia asked with a mouth full of food. Ichigo shook his head. "Aren't you eating?"

Once again, the orange-head shook his head. "Watching you eat is enough to make me full."

Rukia gave a blank stare for a moment before laughing softly. "Such captivating words. Do you tell that to most girls?"

Ichigo tilted his head. Was she joking? "I'm being sincere right now," he told truthfully. "Do you think I like to joke around with you?" he asked, curious. Ichigo wasn't the type to say such cheesy things to just any girl. He felt... insulted that she'd ask something like that.

Rukia didn't understand why he was ticked off. She assumed it was because of work. "Sorry," she apologized, earning his forgiveness without effort. Ichigo wouldn't get tripped up over something trivial. "I'll see you in the morning," she said, cleaning the table.

"Y-yeah..."


A/N: Remember, let me know if I should continue this story or not!