Standard disclaimer applies.
Author's notes: A TV themed drabble? Not really... just an argument over it, with unexpected results... Heh. Warnings for a very foul-mouthed Ichigo. Thanks to everyone who has left comments on previous "episodes". If you like what you read, please remember to review!

TV Marathon
25.04.2005

Rukia had been continuously switching the channels for the last fifteen minutes when she finally found her desired show. She would have squealed if not for the fact that the orange-haired boy sitting next to her would have probably mocked her for doing it, and thus, he would ruin the show for her. But she wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

The girl sat comfortably on the sofa, hugging the cushion in her lap with her free arm (for the other hand was still holding the remote control), eyes set on the television and the television only. The magic of the animated opening sequence of the show absorbing her completely and making her eyes grow wide with amusement. Oh, what great inventions had the modern men come up with…! And those little bunnies were too cute, God! The sparkles!

On the other side of the reddish brown couch, Kurosaki Ichigo grimaced by the time she had tried to stifle her giggles a tenth time. The giggling, no, all of these was all too disturbing. He shook his head in resignation, swearing never to make bets with Rukia over the control of the TV. Then again, who would have thought she'd choose something like this? He should have, of course… But moreover, who would have thought the TV station would put on air something like this at such hour, anyway? Ah, that damned thing and its magical friends were seriously going to leave scars for the rest of his life. He wouldn't be able to erase many of them.

"Dammit," he cursed, clenching his jaw and brushing his hair with his large fingers as a growl of frustration surfaced from his throat. He was fed up. As in really, really fed up. "Give me the fuckin' remote control," he ordered loudly to the girl beside him.

Rukia turned to him, startled at first and slightly upset about having to lose her concentration on the program being shown on the TV, and then smirked widely as she understood what the big deal was about. Her hands gripped the control slightly tighter against her chest. "Tsk, tsk... Language, Ichigo," she teased. "Language. Little kids shouldn't speak like that."

His eyebrows twitched violently. "I don't friggin' care about language!" he retorted in an heated fashion. "Now, hand that over, Rukia! I'm not watching that crappy show any longer!" He demanded angrily, opening his hand to receive the object, but it never came.

"I won't give it to you if you don't request it properly," Rukia informed him primly, lifting up her chin in clear defiance. In truth, she wasn't even planning on giving it to him, though she wasn't about to confess that. She inched away from Ichigo, almost imperceptibly.

Ichigo groaned moodily, but his intense glare didn't even make her flinch. Not that it ever had worked before with her. "Don't give me that shit, give that thing to me now," he said as he stretched his hand to take the rectangle-shaped, black object and if possible, simply snatch it from her.

The female shinigami snickered at her substitute, not very subtly. "I refuse." She raised the control over her head and started shaking it teasingly from side to side. She had soon realized how fun it really was to taunt the youngster before her.

"Bitch..." he cleared his throat, grumpily shifting on his seat and sighing gloomily. The chirpy music on the background was starting to frustrate him, really, really frustrate him. And that freakin' bunny, damn, it was getting on his nerves.

He breathed another sigh of frustration and muttered under clenched teeth, "Would you please give me the remote control, Rukia?"

"Hmm," she paused thoughtfully. Her navy blue eyes were glinting with amusement when she suddenly grinned up at him triumphantly, "No, Ichigo, I don't think so!"

"ARGH, Rukia, you…!" Ichigo launched his whole body over her with every intention of taking the damned thing away from her and end his suffering. But the smirk on her face never faded.

And the 'Chappy the Rabbit' marathon kept playing all night long.