Errr, so it's been a really long time since I updated this, and I'm sorry - I've been kind of caught up in a whole mess of worries about the future, job applications and interviews, thesis-writing, and I got myself so stressed and depressed it has been about all I could do to crawl out of bed of a morning. Or a mid-afternoon, anyway. However, I'm here, and I bear soppiness.
Thanks as ever to all those who read, review, and favourite - you make me happy and keep me writing :) Especially those who keep coming back, I hope I can continue to keep your interest!
Orihime had gone to bed, and Rukia knows she should too. The girl had assured her that Renji was fully healed, and that he just needed to rest now – for his body to recover from the strain of the wounding and healing, and for his drained reiatsu to replenish itself. She had been stumbling with exhaustion as Chad had helped her from the room, but still looking back over her shoulder with concern. Always so worried about her friends.
What would we do without her?
Renji would probably have died, without her. Rukia could have used some healing kidou, maybe stabilised him enough to open a portal and get him to the Fourth Division, but it would have been touch and go. His ribs had been broken, his lungs pierced, one arm mostly torn from its socket and his throat almost crushed, not to mention the gaping wound in his chest. He had been choking on his own blood when Rukia had got to him.
You'd have lost him.
Her fists clench as she watches the tattooed face, calm in sleep, cleaned of the blood that had covered it. He looked like it had never even happened, like him fighting for breath in her arms with his blood soaking into her shihakusho was all just some horrible nightmare.
You'd have LOST him.
Rukia squeezes her eyes shut, tears threatening to escape, trying to shut out that thought that keeps thundering around the inside of her head. No. No, she would not think about that. He was here, and he was ok, he was fine.
Nothing, not even Aizen himself, would get her to leave his side until he woke up. Some part of her wouldn't be satisfied until then, even though she hadn't done more than doze in her chair since last night. Besides, she knows from experience how disorientating it can be to wake up after a battle not knowing where you are.
Reaching out, she wraps her hand around his, taking comfort in the warmth and the familiar feel of his skin. And waits.
The light has already begun to seep in around the cracks of the curtains as he shifts, a slight frown crossing his face, the deep breaths of sleep changing into a quicker rhythm.
Her heart beats too loud, too fast, as she waits for him to open his eyes. Dammit. She knows he's ok – why is she so nervous?
And then he does open his eyes, looking first at the ceiling, then around, until his gaze finds her.
Her breath whooshes out of her, and tears fill her eyes. Damn. DAMN. She can't help it, she's just so… relieved… Damn being a girl. It was hormones, or something, she'd swear. Over-active tear ducts. She hates to cry.
A big, warm hand brushes her cheek, and she blinks the tears away fiercely.
"That bad, huh?" His voice is rough, unsurprising after almost having his throat torn out, and he's smiling, but his eyes are serious. She says nothing, not trusting her voice yet.
"Are you… was anyone else hurt?"
She shakes her head, regaining a little of her composure.
"Just you."
He sighs in relief.
"Baka!" She punches his arm, not hard – he is injured after all. His eyes widen as his hand flies to the spot. "Getting yourself hurt like that! You should have called us! You shouldn't have fought that thing without backup! Baka, baka, baka, baka!"
He finally grabs her hands to calm her.
"Whoa, Rukia! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
She glares at him. His lips curve, just a small smile, and it's enough. She finds herself smiling back. Damn him.
He always makes her smile. At least until he opens his mouth.
"How long have I been out?"
"Just over a day."
He frowns. "Fuck. I'm still tired. And you haven't slept either, have ya?"
She scowls. "How did you know?"
"'Cause you look like shit… hey! HEY!" He grabs her hands again as she hits him, less gently this time.
He scoots over on the bed. "Get up here."
She shakes her head at him, folding her arms primly. "No. You were injured. You need rest."
"So do you," he points out, raising one tattooed eyebrow.
"I can rest in my own room."
"Yeah, but that'd be less fun," he grins at her.
She feels the answering smile tug at her lips and struggles to stay stern.
"Just get up here, will ya? I almost died, after all. I deserve a bit of comforting."
She laughs, then. "Baka," she tells him, without real venom. Truth be told, she wants nothing more than to cuddle beside his warmth, feel him holding her. He might have almost died, but she's the one that needs comforting.
She climbs onto the bed, settles beside him. He wraps one strong arm around her waist, drawing her close as she settles her head on his shoulder. She presses her face against the tattooed neck, inhaling his familiar scent, feels muscle under her hand as she slides her arm across his stomach.
His breath stirs her hair as he tilts his head sideways, presses a kiss against the top of her dark head.
"Nnn. See, that's better," he murmurs, voice already sleepy.
Laying against him like this, she's always reminded – not that it's easy to forget – of how small she is, compared to him. Even with her head on his shoulder, her feet barely reach past his knees. At first it had felt strange – as if he could break her. And he probably could; she was strong for her size, she made sure of that, but there was only so strong you could be when you were 4 foot 9. But it had been exciting, too, when those arms wrapped around her, knowing he could snap her in two without even trying. And instead, he was always so gentle. Now, it made her feel safe from the world, safe from everything, when he held her.
Tears fill her eyes again and she presses her face into the warmth of his shoulder, feeling the slight scratch of bandages under her chin. Her arm tightens around his waist and he twitches, makes a soft sound in his sleep, his arm pulling her even closer against his side. She lets herself be comforted by the warmth of his body, by his breath stirring her hair, by the steady rise and fall of his chest.
You almost lost him…
I won't. I won't let that happen. Whatever that thing was… I won't let it hurt him again. I will kill it. I swear, I will kill it.
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It's dark again when she wakes. Evening, or night. She raises her head to search for the glowing numbers of the clock. Eight o'clock.
"Mornin'. Or evening, I guess." She can feel his voice as well as hear it, a soft rumble through his chest.
She tilts her head to meet his eyes, finds them surprisingly serious.
"How do you feel?" She asks, trying to keep her voice business-like. Well, as business-like as she could be, given their positions.
"M'ok. You?"
She nods, and he shifts, suddenly, onto his side so he faces her.
His hand traces the curve of her side, settling on her hip. She meets his eyes, sees the heat in them as he leans in. His lips brush hers, then settle… a soft kiss quickly giving way to passion as she presses against him. Her hands trace the patterns of his tattoos by memory, skin warm and smooth under her touch. She shifts her hands to the bandages wrapping his chest, covering what had been a sword wound… Her kiss turns desperate, and she presses herself tightly against him, trying to lose herself in the feel of him.
He pulls away from her very slightly, concern in his eyes. "Oi, Rukia…"
She silences him with another kiss, and he gives in, shifting their positions so his familiar weight is pressed atop her, his hands searching for the fold of her kimono. She shivers under his touch, needing more. Affirmation – this fierce desire to be closer, to touch every inch of him, to reassure herself that he's there, that he's whole, that they're alive.
A knock at the door startles them both.
"Kuchiki-san?" Orihime's voice. Of course – she'd locked the door after Orihime had left. Some small measure of safety against the world outside the room. For all the good it would do against that monster.
Renji looks down at her, red-brown eyes dark with passion. "Rukia…" he breathes the name softly.
Another knock, and he draws away, leaving her to adjust her clothing as she sits up and then pads over to unlock the door.
Orihime smiles at her uncertainly. "Is Abarai-kun.."
"I'm fine, Orihime. Thanks to you." Renji appears behind Rukia, a warm smile on his face. Orihime's face breaks into a smile of relief.
"I'm so glad! I was so worried… I'm just so glad to be able to help!"
Rukia smiles at her, letting the girls warmth, her relief, wash over her. On a rare impulse, she hugs her friend, feeling Orihime cling to her for just a second.
"Thank you," she whispers fiercely against Orihime's ear.
Safe. They're all safe.
As she steps back her eyes meet Orihime's, and the girl smiles at her in gentle understanding.
"Orihime, are the others here?"
Renji's voice is serious, and both girls look at him in surprise. His jaw is set; there's determination in his eyes. Rukia feels a weight settle in her stomach. Orihime nods.
"Renji…"
"Get 'em in here. There's something'…" He pauses, eyes distant, then takes a breath. "There's something about that thing you need to know."
So I said it was soppiness. But ahhh, I said I'd make it up to Renji for getting his ass torn apart by a monster :) So he gets a bit of love in this chapter.
Next chapter's presently doing my head in, but hopefully up soon, if I can just iron out a couple of things that I can't quite hit on.
Hope you enjoyed reading :)