Standard disclaimer applies.
Author's notes: Thanks to everyone who has been following Death Butterflies up 'til now. As for this one-shot in particular, Ichigo will be a little OOC, hormonal if anything, so be warned (insert evil cackle from the author). Just a little fluffy piece. Please keep the reviews up and enjoy!
Comics
17.05.2005
His bed, Ichigo decides, is far too small for the two of them. And yet Rukia, on another hand, doesn't seem to even notice how her arm gently brushes his every time she changes a page in her comic or how his leg is barely an inch away from hers. But, for the love of God, he is aware of all of it and it makes his frown deepen each time. He shouldn't even be noticing something like this!
How the heck did he end up in this situation? Let us rewind in the memory lane a little, shall we?
They had left early from school that day because of a teacher meeting, and after picking up a couple of things from the bookstore (read: comics and magazines) they headed back home. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really, just a quiet, hollow-less afternoon, perfect to enjoy some educational reading.
Of course, being who they were, once they were home both had been reluctant to take the floor and in the end they had silently agreed to share the bed. That hadn't sound like a bad idea at first, it meant he'd still be able to be on his bed and at the same time, avoid another lousy argument with her. Besides, Rukia couldn't take that much of his space given to her size, right?
But back to the current circumstances he is trapped in… Honestly, Ichigo is starting to regret said idea perhaps just as much as how he hates being a hormonal, fifteen year old and the thoughts that come every time her skirt rides up. It's Rukia, God dammit, he scolds himself over and over when the flashes of pale skin come into his view, as though the very knowledge of this fact should put his thoughts about her to rest.
It doesn't help. Not one bit.
Rukia. Rukia. It's Rukia, idiot!
So when the aforementioned girl turns over to her side and the 'damned' black, uniform skirt moves even way more up, Ichigo almost jumps out his skin. His fingers clench on the comic strip and his brows twitch despite his best efforts. He does not even understand one bit of what's going on his comic.
He needs to do something… Now.
"Rukia… move over," he grunts impatiently, and he even thinks of pushing her to the floor, but decides against it. He is still likes his life, as screwed-up as it is, thank you. "Rukia?" he calls again and gets no attention from the rave-haired girl; not even the slightest response after five minutes go by.
He sits up only to lean down to look at her and find out she is already sleeping soundly, she is breathing in a calm pace that makes her chest rise and fall steadily.
"Che," he growls, taking the comic book from her hands and putting it on the desk along with his own. "Stupid Rukia, falling asleep like that…"
He scratches the back of his neck and stares at her sleeping form. One of those extremely rare grins appears on his ever-frowning face.
To hell with everything… He ought to have some rest too.