Hi, everyone! This is a re-upload of a story I originally posted under a different account. I've recently started writing again, but was uploading with another account because I've been writing lemons and I know not everyone likes that.
But, the reason I was motivated to write again in the first place was because, amazingly, my stories still get likes and follows and it warms my heart everytime I see that something I wrote 10 years ago can do that. And when I wrote this, it ended up not being lemony anyway. So I thought I would remove it from there and re-upload it here as a thank-you to those still reading my stuff, since those of you who do probably like IchiRuki. I hope you all enjoy!
Happy reading!
Rukia swirled the ice in her melon soda just for something to do. While it was tasty, it wasn't captivating enough to make her forget why she'd come to Karakura, despite the drink's lovely green hue. After watching the ice bob and dance in the glass, her eyes turned to Rangiku, leader of this latest expedition to the Living World. Though she'd convinced Rukia to accompany her thanks to her initial zeal, since they'd arrived, she'd done little except stare out the window, her chin resting in her hand, her elbow on the table between them. She was dressed in a charcoal turtleneck sweater with short sleeves and a black pencil skirt with a high waist that stopped mid-thigh, accessorized with black stiletto heels. It was counter to the kind of outfit she usually wore in the Living World, which generally included necklines that took dangerous plunges.
"Rangiku-san, didn't you say there was a special place you wanted to visit?" asked Rukia. Though the modest café they sat in was nice, Rukia thought that it couldn't be what had made Rangiku so excited for the serendipitous alignment of their Vice-Captain's furloughs.
Rukia had settled in a mint green sundress and white sandals after ditching the hip-hugging khaki shorts and black t-shirt she'd planned to dress her gigai in, Rangiku having claimed that they had to "class themselves up a little" to visit the location of interest. The choice had earned her a share of the looks their table had received from men in the café, which was another reason she was becoming eager to leave. While it was, in a sense, flattering, it brought to mind the person whose looks she'd much prefer to be attracting instead, someone she'd tried to put out of her mind during the trip.
"Yep," Rangiku confirmed without ever taking her eyes off the window. "We're close. I'm just waiting for a table to open up." She squinted intensely at something across the street.
Rukia had assumed that Rangiku had been struck with a capricious change of mood, that her stares out of the window were due to mere listlessness. Following the woman's gaze, though, Rukia noticed for the first time that Rangiku was eyeing yet another café.
"A café?" asked Rukia, confused. "We can just order food here if you're hungry," she suggested. She'd made it with an ulterior motive, for she was getting hungry and being in a café made her crave something sweet. If and when they did finally move to the café across the street, Rukia hoped they served strawberry parfaits. She fancied strawberry today.
Rangiku suddenly perked up like a cat who spies a bird out a window, her chin leaving her palm, which whacked onto the table. Rukia jumped in surprise.
"Rukia-san, pay the bill and meet me at that café over there," she said, sounding excited but not giddy, as if it were an urgent matter of great importance rather than a fun outing. "I'll flag you down when I see you," she said as she intensely locked eyes with her fellow Vice-Captain. Then, she practically darted out of the restaurant, which was impressive, given her choice of footwear.
Rukia sighed. She was beginning to suspect that she was only being used to treat her coworker to free food and drink. But she dutifully retrieved from her handbag the cash she'd exchanged part of her salary to acquire, settling their debt before taking her leave in pursuit of Rangiku.
The inside of the café across the street was not what she'd expected. Compared to the one she'd just left, it felt like an entirely different world she'd stepped into, similar to how she'd strode from Soul Society into the Living World through a door that had stood in empty space and then vanished. The outside world almost seemed to disappear just like that door as she was transported to a Victorian-style manor, its dark hardwood floors and contrasting cream-coloured walls warmly illuminated from above by glowing chandelier-like fixtures. They weren't actual chandeliers, just fancy moulded covers for everyday overhead lights, but the ambience wasn't diminished by this fact. Unlike the previous café, no seating ran along the interior wall. All customers were seated in freestanding wooden chairs with luxurious cushioning, two set at each square table aligned to the centre of the room. Rukia picked out Rangiku, sitting alone at a table and waving excitedly.
"Welcome home, Mistress," came a man's rich, smooth voice. Rukia, surprised, turned her eyes from Rangiku to the young man, who gave her a slight bow. It was behaviour she was used to at the Kuchiki estate, but it seemed utterly alien for a café. Truthfully, it was the kind of thing she'd hoped to escape on her furlough. The dark-haired young man was also dressed much more formally than one might expect for the head waiter of such a place. She hadn't expected cafés to have head waiters in the first place. "We were told to expect you," he continued. "Would you like to be shown to your seat?"
"Okay..."
"This way, milady."
Rukia followed the young man, who walked with the assured uprightness of a soldier at attention, one hand behind his back. He glided to where Rangiku sat—even giving her a polite nod and a "Milady" when he arrived—and pulled out the opposite chair for Rukia, who took her seat stiffly.
"Isn't this place amazing?" asked Rangiku.
"It's certainly very nice," agreed Rukia, a blush slowly overtaking her face. "Honestly, I feel a little under-dressed for a place like this," she admitted, her hands clasped together in her lap.
"Don't be such a worrier, Rukia-chan," said Rangiku with a dismissive wave. "It really doesn't matter what you wear in here. It's all about what the guys are wearing." She winked. "Besides, no matter how you're dressed, they'll treat you like royalty."
Rukia blinked. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"Haven't you noticed?" asked Rangiku, flashing Rukia a devilish grin. "This café is a special kind. It's what the living call a 'Butler Café'."
Rukia hadn't noticed. She'd been so enamoured with the atmosphere of the place that the men attending each table dressed in their tailed coats and gloves had been entirely missed at first. Now she realized that most of the customers were pairs of women being waited on by charming young men in formal dress.
"Oh..." said Rukia, her face warming some more. "I never saw this place when I was here." She said this while looking around the room and not at Rangiku.
"It's a newer business to Karakura. And I waited to get us seated in a very special section," she whispered, pulling Rukia's attention back to her. Her eyes found Rangiku's just in time to watch them flicker to the side before Rangiku sat up straight, still grinning. Reflexively, Rukia did the same.
"Good afternoon, madams," came a familiar voice. Rukia and Rangiku turned up their faces to look at their assigned butler, each with a different expression. Standing in his formal attire with a silver tray balanced in his gloved hand, Ichigo Kurosaki was hit with devious delight from one side of the table and rosy-cheeked shock from the other.
Ichigo's arm twitched ever so slightly as he resisted his body's urge to do an about-face, causing the porcelain teacups atop the tray to shift almost imperceptibly, meaning that not a drop of tea was spilled. However, his guests watched a pulsing vein stand out on his forehead.
Leaning across the table against all decorum to speak conspiratorially to Rukia, Rangiku said, "Make sure to ask for cream and sugar in your tea," and winked again. Then she sat back and took her own advice, beaming up at their butler. "I'll have cream and sugar, please, servant."
"Of course, Madam," came Ichigo's reply, his tone not matching his speech. Still, despite his obvious irritation, he rotated the tray to hold it before him at waist height and deftly went to work with his free hand. The tray stayed perfectly still and level as he lifted the white ceramic cream pitcher and poured a measure of its contents into one of the cups. Setting it back down, he took up a pair of tiny tongs and plucked a sugar cube from a small white bowl to plunk into the same cup. "Say when," he said as he reached for a second cube with the tongs. Rukia was astounded that he wasn't crushing them in his palpable frustration as he worked. Two cubes. Three cubes.
"That's enough," Rangiku grinned. Rukia thought she didn't need tea since she was filling herself up by drinking in each moment. Rukia saw her blink in surprise when Ichigo then lifted a small spoon from the tray and gently stirred the additions into her tea before setting the utensil back down and lifting the cup by the saucer beneath it. He placed it gently before Rangiku, who sighed at the cup. "How disappointing," she said. "You'd better do it right next time, servant, or we're gonna tell the host." Her grin returned as she flashed it at Ichigo. Then her eyes flicked over to Rukia. "Go ahead, Rukia-chan," she prodded.
Rukia didn't know what to do. She was fine with plain tea, and the act of customizing it for them was clearly something Rangiku enjoyed watching more than Ichigo enjoyed performing. She felt terrible that she'd been unwittingly used as part of a plan to prank her friend. At the same time, though, a part of her wanted any excuse to keep him around a bit longer. Her mind hadn't fully adjusted to the look of him in a suit. She found it...fascinating, and wanted to keep taking it in out of pure interest.
Rukia's shoulders jumped when she noticed Ichigo just barely not glowering at her as he waited. "C-cream and sugar, please," she said timidly.
"And you'd better do it right this time," added Rangiku in a sing-song tone.
"Of course, Madam," he said. But he didn't repeat the same ritual as before. Instead, he set the saucer and cup before Rukia prior to pouring the cream into it.
"F-four cubes, please," she said hastily as the pitcher lifted away, torn between wanting the experience and not wanting to put Ichigo through undue stress. It felt embarrassing to ask for it like that, but she hadn't gotten to order a dessert at the previous café and was still craving something sweet.
Enough time passed between each cube falling gently into the tea that Rukia was sure Ichigo was savouring it to glare at her from above. She kept her eyes on the teacup to avoid seeing it. When it was done, she looked helplessly up at Rangiku, who smiled. Between them, Ichigo's tray came down softly. Rukia wondered if he was quitting on the spot, unable to bear the embarrassment of waiting on people he knew.
She flinched away as Ichigo unexpectedly dropped to one knee beside her.
"Pardon me," he said. He'd retained a spoon from the discarded tray and now used it to gently stir her tea. Rukia's eyes traced up his arm from the stirring hand and found Ichigo's face. She turned her gaze back to the cup an instant later. She'd expected his eyes to be on his work, but their gazes had met for a moment, and now her face felt as warm as the tea in front of her.
His task complete, Ichigo stood and retrieved his tray. "I'll return with your menus," he said icily, Rukia thought.
"Isn't this fun?" asked Rangiku with a giggle.
"Actually," said Rukia into her lap, "it's strange...seeing Ichigo like this. He doesn't feel like Ichigo."
"Yeah, I'm surprised he's able to pull it off with that gloomy face of his," Rangiku said, thinking she was agreeing.
"Maybe we should go."
"What? No way! I heard the cake they have here is amazing. We can't leave without trying it," she whined.
Rukia wondered how Rangiku had heard so much about a café in the Living World from the Seireitei. But all suspicions were wiped from her mind along with everything else upon the return of their butler. True to her word, Rangiku ordered the shortcake from him. When he turned and asked Rukia what she would like in his new, non-Ichigo way, she admitted to not being very hungry but thanked him anyway. Once he'd left, Rangiku hit her with a questioning look.
"You're no fun, Rukia-chan," she pouted. "You were the one asking us to order food before. It's no fun if you don't enjoy yourself."
"Honestly, it's hard to enjoy myself like this," admitted Rukia, gazing into her untouched teacup.
Rangiku cocked her head to the side. "Your face is all red. You sure you're not feeling sick?"
"No, that's not it," Rukia assured, shaking her head.
"Could it be that you're nervous?" Rangiku asked accusatorily. "You should be used to being waited on hand and foot, being a Kuchiki and all," she said slyly.
"It's not like that," Rukia fired back, offended but trying to keep her voice down. "And besides..."
"It's not usually someone so handsome?"
"Th-that's—"
"You're so obvious, Rukia-chan," sighed Rangiku. "You can barely look Ichigo in the eye. Don't worry, though. Since you haven't been looking, I'll do you a favour and tell you..."
"Tell me what?"
"Ichigo's face was all red when he was stirring your tea," Rangiku grinned.
"Oh," said Rukia, the small sound inconsistent with the raging storm of thoughts suddenly clouding her mind. "I hadn't noticed," she said, wishing she had. When their eyes had met, she'd turned away so quickly.
"You need to give him an order so you can relax," suggested Rangiku. "Think about it. You're a Vice-Captain now. You should be used to bossing people around."
"Don't make it sound like that," argued Rukia. "it's our job to make sure everyone else does theirs."
"Exactly," Rangiku said, and Rukia felt the woman's fingertip tap the end of her nose, startling her a little. She hadn't noticed Rangiku lean over the table, so focused had she been on the tea Ichigo had prepared to her liking. Now that they were eye-to-eye, Rangiku continued. "Well, this is Ichigo's job, right? He's being paid to do whatever we order him to, and I don't just mean bringing us food and drinks." She sat up straight again, and the next thing she said had a tone that was too casual for Rukia's liking. "Did you know they'll feed you the cake if you ask them to? That's what I'm going to do."
"You can't do that!" Rukia hissed, her face warming back up for a different reason now.
"Why not? Would you be jealous?" asked Rangiku with a devious smirk.
Yes.
"That's not it," denied Rukia to both of them. "It's humiliating!"
Rangiku waved a hand dismissively, a gesture that seemed to Rukia more aristocratic than she had ever felt as a Kuchiki. "Ichigo's a big boy, he can handle a little thing like that."
"But..."
"Don't you think it lets him know that I like his service if I ask him to do something like that?"
Rukia hadn't thought of it like that. Truthfully, she hadn't been able to think of much since entering the café.
"Meanwhile," Rangiku went on, pulling Rukia's mind back to their table, "you've let your tea get cold. You've been so aloof to him, I wonder if he'll take that as an insult." She said it innocently, as if to herself, looking up and away.
Suddenly, the cup that rested before her made Rukia feel guilty. She knew that it shouldn't, knew she understood Ichigo better than Rangiku and that her colleague was merely toying with her. Still, an anxious part of her that had been wound up to the point of breaking over the past ten minutes kept whispering in her ear that Rangiku had a point.
"Ah, here comes my dessert," came Rangiku's voice in a sultry-sounding tone.
Rukia had never gulped down a cup of tea with such urgency. She tipped it with both hands so that its cooled contents slid down her throat like a rushing current. She winced when the cup clacked down on the saucer harder and louder than she'd planned. Exhaling, she saw Rangiku smiling at her, looking on the verge of full-blown laughter.
With a polite nod and another formal greeting, Ichigo set down before Rangiku a small plate upon which sat a tantalizing shortcake, one made in miniature rather than a small slice taken from a larger one. Sandwiched between two perfectly round yellow discs of spongy sweetness was a gorgeous heap of halved strawberries drowned in thick cream. The cake was topped with a healthy dollop of the same cream, in the centre of which had been placed a whole strawberry that looked almost too red to be real. A small pile of cut strawberries was also nestled against the cake on one side. Staring at the confection, Rukia chided herself for not ordering the same when she'd had the chance.
Then she suddenly remembered what was about to happen.
"I'd like some more tea, please!" Rukia burst out before Rangiku could give the humiliating order. She'd nearly leapt from her seat in voicing it, not noticing at first how she'd braced her hands on the table.
"Of course," she heard Ichigo say. "Anything else?"
Rukia's eyes were locked on Rangiku's. After a moment of tense silence between them, Rangiku smiled at Ichigo, telling him that everything was fine for now. Nodding, Ichigo cleared the cup from in front of Rukia and glided away.
"You seem tense," grinned Rangiku, deliberately leaving her enticing dessert untouched until their butler returned. Rather than sample it, she put her elbows on the table and entwined her fingers to rest her chin on them. "But I'm glad you decided to get into the spirit of this place," she continued. "They'll play along with whatever you say, you know. If you ask them what's on your agenda for today, I hear they'll make up a fake story about how you have a gala to attend or something." Rangiku seemed excited by the possibilities. "Rukia-chan, can you honestly see someone like Ichigo doing something like that?" It sounded like a genuine question.
"Not really," replied Rukia suspiciously. Unfazed by her colleague's attitude, Rangiku shrugged.
"I guess we'll see," she said. As if on cue, Ichigo reappeared. Rukia was beginning to despise the fact that Rangiku always had eyes on the young man's approach, while she was caught by surprise each time he materialized.
Once again, the cup and saucer were placed before Rukia. She knew this was the part where she should—or would be expected to—ask for cream and sugar. However, it was Rangiku's turn to interrupt Rukia. She did so with a moan, one entirely too ambiguous in origin, given the formality of the setting. Rukia's eyes widened with shocked embarrassment.
"I'm sorry, I'm just feeling a bit weak at the moment since I haven't had anything to eat," said Rangiku in an affected tone of mock distress. "Servant, could you please help me?" She gave Ichigo a longing look that Rukia was confident he would be impervious to. Still, to her horror, she heard him say the obligatory "Of course" and saw him set his tray between them and drop to one knee beside Rangiku.
Rukia's heart had reached such elated highs only to plummet into sheer terror only once in her life before that day. On the day of her rescue from execution by Ichigo, she'd been so overjoyed that she'd surprised herself by not shedding tears. The drop had come a moment later—figuratively and physically—when Ichigo had thrown her for Renji to catch, sending her screaming through the air. What played out before Rukia on the other end of the table caused her heart to relive those emotions each in turn. The elation came when she saw Ichigo's plain scowl as he took up a small dessert fork and sank it into the cake. That Rangiku's audacity had finally broken his discomforting mask of professionalism to allow the Ichigo she knew to come through made Rukia's chest fill with warmth. That warmth iced over a second later when, begrudgingly obeying her command, Ichigo proffered the sweet tidbit to Rangiku.
The woman savoured every second of the act as she leaned over and closed her lips around the morsel, making a prolonged, almost sensual "Ah" sound as she did so. Drawing her lips from the tines without ever taking her eyes off Ichigo's, she chewed luxuriously. Swallowing, she let out a cooing sigh of delight. Rukia could see that Rangiku's theatrics had caused a blush to rise in Ichigo's cheeks, but her own face felt much hotter.
"E-excuse me!" Rukia finally managed to say, fighting past the constriction her throat had undergone at seeing the previous display, "I...I'm afraid my tea might be too hot for me to drink. Could you..." she trailed off, her gaze returning to her lap. She'd thought she'd worked up the courage, but now that she was looking at them, and they at her, she felt mortified. Still, she decided that an instant of mortification was worth it to save Ichigo. Because that's why she was going to do it, she told herself. She drew a deep breath and finished her request by saying it into her lap. "Could you please...test it for me?"
Rukia hadn't known exactly what to expect when she'd asked, but what she'd hoped was precisely what happened. Once Ichigo freed himself from Rangiku's toying grasp, he drew himself up, crossed to her end of the table in a step, and stood next to her for a moment that passed like a century. Then, she watched his gloved left hand take the cup by the handle and lift it away from the table, Rukia's eyes following it on its journey. She watched as he seemed to study the object for a moment as if unsure of what to do, then, with the briefest glance down at her, put the rim of the cup to his lips and tipped a measure of the hot tea into his mouth. He replaced the teacup on the saucer with his left hand so that the side touched by his lips was turned away from Rukia, salvaging some politeness amid her odd request.
"It's not too hot," he concluded in a tone Rukia couldn't discern. "Will there be anything else?"
Rukia found that she, once again, couldn't speak. Thankfully, nothing could stop Rangiku.
"That's good for now, thanks," she said dismissively, still grinning at their hapless butler. After he'd gone, she turned her teasing attention to Rukia. "See? Wasn't that fun?"
"Maybe I should have ordered the cake too," said Rukia shyly, avoiding the probing question.
"Well, you can try some of mine while I'm gone," Rangiku told her, sounding suddenly easygoing. "I'll be back in a minute. There's a place over there where you can take pictures with the butlers. I want to bring back souvenirs to show off," she said excitedly. With that, she took her leave from the table. Rukia was unsure if the photos would eventually be shown to Hinamori or Captain Hitsugaya. The two would have very different reactions to them, Rukia knew. Absently, she turned her cup around, putting the handle in line with her off hand. She took it up with both hands, looked around to ensure that neither Rangiku nor Ichigo were watching, and brought it to her lips.
In the end, Rukia hadn't tasted the shortcake. She'd sat and watched as Rangiku finished it while refusing any of the bites her fellow Vice-Captain offered her. She'd been too distracted to want any and would have felt too guilty to enjoy it anyway. Still, she'd done her best to keep up a level of energy that kept Rangiku from guessing at her inner turmoil, then parted ways with her once they'd left the café. Thanking Rangiku for the fun she'd had visiting such a unique place—which was only partially insincere—Rukia had quickly made her way to the Urahara Shoten, spurred on by her rising guilt.
Rukia had been in no mood for Urahara's usual attitude. She'd boldly, if abashedly, asked for what she thought she needed to make things right between her and Ichigo, and damn the consequences. After all, the only person Urahara could ever tell about it was the person it was intended for. It wasn't as if the man had regular correspondences with Soul Society. More worrying to her than the prospect of being tattled on was how Urahara had produced what she'd wanted so readily. Obviously, she'd somewhat expected it since she'd asked, but the fact was still unsettling.
Rukia put such thoughts out of her mind, throwing them to the winds as she had her shame. They didn't change the fact that she was standing in Ichigo's bedroom, freshly clothed, her green sundress neatly folded and placed in the spot in his closet where she used to sleep. Looking back, she couldn't believe how much time she'd spent so close to Ichigo, the two of them sleeping mere feet from one another. Now, the thought of it made her shudder, though not with discomfort.
Her thoughts returned to the present when she heard the front door open and close. Though it might have been any of the four who lived in the house, Rukia could sense the spiritual power of the young man who'd just come inside. Fighting against the part of her yelling in her head that it was a stupid idea and begging her to climb back out the window she'd climbed in, Rukia stood her ground and waited for the bedroom door to open.
"Welcome home, Master!" she exclaimed cheerily as Ichigo entered the room. She hadn't quite decided on a pose by the time he'd opened the door, but the simple bow her body made on reflex was enough, with the outfit speaking for itself. For better or worse, Rukia had decided that the only way to even the playing field for poor Ichigo after she'd been an accessory to his humiliation was to dress herself as a maid. She wore a black dress with white lace cuffs, a white ruffled apron, long black stockings that reached her mid-thigh, and a black choker at the neck, which she felt was an odd inclusion. The outfit also included black penny loafers, which she'd forgone and tucked beneath the shelf on which lay her hidden sundress.
Rukia honestly expected Ichigo to call her an idiot or ask what the hell she was doing in his exasperated way. In either case, she'd know that the tension that she worried was between them had been broken. She'd put up with a moment of embarrassment to make up for what they'd both been pulled into that day, even if it meant being chastised by the one the moment was for.
Rather than say anything, Ichigo about-faced in an attempt to silently leave.
With an indignant cry of "Oi!", Rukia lunged for Ichigo, catching his arm in both of hers and yanking him back into the room. The instant flood of frustration and anger into her mind made her forget about her guilt and shyness, allowing her to return the glare he gave when his head whipped around so that he, presumably, could tell her off for nearly dislocating his shoulder.
Then, they both saw one another as if for the first time that day, which would've been for the first time in seventeen months. Each one's grumpy expression melted away as their anger was drained by the look in the other's eyes. Blushing came next, breaking out on one face and quickly spreading to the other like a contagious fever. Suddenly, the perfect distance for yelling at each other was far too close. Rukia let go of Ichigo's arm because his pulling away instead would mean taking her with him. She fell backwards to sit on the bed she'd dragged him over to and stared up at his reddened face because, for some reason, her eyes refused to look away. He looked to be having the same issue.
"Hey...Rukia..." he said, sounding like he had to catch his breath before each word.
Rukia's heart fluttered, and she scrunched the blanket in her fists to keep from throwing her arms around Ichigo's middle; so happy was she to hear him say her name after over a year apart. Her name, not "Madam", not "Mistress". He not only looked like himself again but sounded the part, too. His words were his own once more. He sounded like her Ichigo.
That was to say, he sounded like the Ichigo who'd been her friend.
"Hi..." she practically squeaked.
"So, what's with the cosplay?"
Rukia's current situation returned to her, along with a sliver of her previous anger. "Is that all you have to say?" she shot back in an attempt at normalcy.
"Oh, um..." Ichigo seemed taken aback. He didn't fire a snide comment back her way in keeping with their usual pattern. However, Rukia supposed that the two of them didn't have a usual pattern anymore, not after a year and a half without each other. She watched him look sidelong away from her before he spoke again. "Your hair's different...it looks good."
It was true, Rukia's hair was now cut into a close bob, different from when Ichigo had last seen it. But that hadn't been what she'd been expecting him to say. When she'd made her comment, she'd been looking for acknowledgement of her efforts to keep them even, but instead, he'd—
Hugging him was still not an option, she reminded herself.
Rukia forced herself to scoff. "Well, you've changed too," she said cheekily, referencing his job. Every word out of her mouth felt like recited lines in an audition for a role she was no longer right for. She felt suddenly aware that she'd been born to play the female romantic lead while being forced to read for the role of snarky best friend character.
When had the roles changed?
Or the actors?
"Oh, that," said Ichigo, annoyed, maintaining his gaze at the wall. "Actually, I work for a place called the Unagiya Shop that does odd jobs in town. The lady who runs the café knows my boss and called her when one of her employees dropped out." Ichigo closed his eyes in frustration, then sighed and sat on the bed beside Rukia, arms folded across his knees. He continued, staring at the wall ahead of him in exhausted despair. "That was my third shift there. I'd say no, but I've already asked for a lot of time off. Plus, Ikumi would kick my ass," he finished, sounding less threatened than he was tiredly resigned to his fate.
Rukia blinked. "Was it really only your third shift?" she asked, stunned. "You were really good."
"I guess I learn fast," he said tonelessly, clearly taking zero pride in what Rukia had found so impressive.
It occurred to her that she was talking to someone who had mastered Bankai in three days. Next to that, attaining the skills of a café butler would be nothing.
When he finally turned to look at her, it wasn't with the glare she'd been expecting, but a deadpan expression conveying how absolutely unimpressed he was with her earlier actions. "Don't try to act innocent now after you were so weird earlier," he said as if in warning, though his heart wasn't in it.
"Hey, who's weird?" Rukia asked defensively.
"Maybe the one who showed up in my room wearing a maid outfit," Ichigo countered, finding some of his old fire.
"I was trying to make us even, idiot," she corrected imperiously.
"Well, that's a weird way to do it," he argued. Neither one noticed how close their faces were getting again. "What if I'd walked in on you when you were changing or something?"
"Oh, so now you're picturing me half-naked? Sounds like you're the weird one," she retorted. The hastily said words—and the image they conjured in the collective imagination of the two friends—hung in the air between them as their faces heated up again. Rukia inwardly scolded herself for the slip-up.
"That's not—never mind," said Ichigo with finality, turning away from Rukia.
Rukia decided that she couldn't do anything right today. She hung her head.
"Sorry, Ichigo," she said sombrely, "I'll just—"
"Was I right?"
"About what?"
"About the tea. It wasn't too hot, right?"
The flutter returned to Rukia's heart. "N-no, it wasn't. It was very good. It's just a shame I didn't get to try the cake. I was too nervous to order it," she told him, running at the mouth in her desire to move past the part that was causing her pulse to quicken. She heard Ichigo let out a small, humourless laugh before rising from the bed.
"Hold on," he told her, then left the room.
Rukia was left to relive the memory of her lips touching what Ichigo's had already touched. Goosebumps erupted along her arms and down her back.
Why had she done that?
A short time later, Ichigo returned carrying a small plastic bag. From inside, he produced a clear container. Rukia saw a strawberry shortcake inside it, just like the one Rangiku had enjoyed in front of her. Her eyes lit up at the sight of it, something she'd thought lost to her forever, suddenly within her reach.
"Why are you so excited? You're going to disappoint yourself," he said. "It's nothing special. Karin and Yuzu wanted to try it, so I brought two home, but they can share one," he told her. The meaning of his words took an extra moment to click for Rukia, and then she gasped.
"You mean I can have this one?" she asked in amazement, stars practically twinkling in her wide eyes as she stared at the cake, enamoured. As a test, Ichigo moved the container left and right before her to see if her eyes would track it like a cat's pursuing a mouse. They did.
"Yeah," he said offhandedly, setting the container down on the blanket between them.
"I can eat it right now?" she asked, finally breaking away from the confection to ask her question, looking into Ichigo's eyes.
"No way," said Ichigo, glaring at her suspiciously. "I don't trust you not to make a mess on my bed."
"That's rude," Rukia said indignantly.
"Just go downstairs if you want to eat it so bad, " Ichigo replied dismissively, leaning back on his hands.
"I can't go down there in this," argued Rukia, once again remembering her current state of dress.
"That's not my fault," said Ichigo.
For a moment, Rukia hemmed and considered her options. She could retrieve her dress from the closet and change in the upstairs bathroom but didn't know who she might meet in the hallway. If one of Ichigo's sisters saw her coming out of his room dressed as she was, the poor guy would be even worse off than before she'd tried to fix things. Next, she considered simply doing as he'd suggested, but the risk of running into Ichigo's father shot up considerably if she went downstairs. Finally, she thought about simply asking Ichigo to leave so she could change. But since he'd given her the cake, she felt that kicking him out of his room was a bit ungrateful on her part.
Once every other option had been rationalized away, only one remained.
"Would you...mind feeding it to me, then?" she asked, or thought she asked. A moment later, she decided that she must have done so, judging by the stunned expression on Ichigo's face.
"Rukia...what..."
"I..." Rukia began, then stopped. She had to take a breath in order to go on, and even then, her gaze was pinned to the blanket beneath them. "I didn't get to try that earlier either..." she admitted shamefully. "You did it for Rangiku-san, so please..."
"Yeah, but I was at work..."
Rukia closed her eyes tightly. "I know, but...Ichigo, I don't want to remember you doing that for her on the day we finally..." Rukia had to fight to control her breathing. "I want to replace that memory with a different one," she told him honestly. Again, she clenched blanket in her hand. "Not you doing that for her because you had to. But doing it for me because you—" she choked. This was too much. She was being an idiot. She'd come here hoping to make amends and made more demands instead. She was the worst.
The plastic bag rustled as Ichigo pulled out a small plastic fork. The sound made Rukia look up in time to see Ichigo separating the lid from the cake container.
"Jeez, you're all worked up about something like that?" he said a tone of annoyance lacking seriousness. He set the container between his legs to keep it in place as he scooped a piece onto the fork.
He was doing it. Rukia was in shock. He was doing it just as he had with her ridiculous request to taste her tea. She was sure that he could have found a way around having to put his lips on the cup. She was positive he could hold firm to his request for her to eat the cake downstairs. But he hadn't, and he didn't. He had simply done as she'd asked before and was doing so again. Had Ichigo's steely resolve eroded so much in seventeen months? Or was there something else helping him decide what actions to take?
Once he'd lifted a cream-topped morsel from the container, Ichigo looked at Rukia earnestly. "Here," he said, gently holding out the fork. Rukia leaned over and took the piece into her mouth. Just before she leaned back again, pulling the piece from the fork, she felt it wiggle slightly in her mouth as a shiver travelled from it up Ichigo's arm. She didn't remember him doing that at the café with Rangiku.
It was the best thing she'd ever tasted.
"Well?" asked Ichigo, looking down at the container between his legs with flushed cheeks. "How is it?"
"It's great," Rukia cooed. "You haven't tried it?"
Ichigo shook his head.
"Want to try?" she practically purred to him. She couldn't help it. He looked so cute, flustered as he was.
"That's okay," he said, trying to be polite. "You can have this one, I'll just—" he stopped when he looked up to find Rukia much closer than she had been. As he'd talked, she'd mounted the bed and was now on her hands and knees beside him on the mattress.
"Ichigo, I can still taste it," she told him, inching closer. "Let me show you."
Ichigo went along with one of Rukia's requests for a third time that day. His mouth accepted hers openly, and they got lost in each other for a blissful yet electric moment as their tongues swirled around excitedly in unfamiliar spaces. When they broke off, they looked at each other again as if anew.
"Rukia..." Ichigo breathed.
"Did you like it...Ichigo?" she panted
For an answer, he let them kiss again, as deeply as the first time.
The taste of the shortcake fell to second place.
A chime sounded from across the room as if signalling them to come up for air. Both looked over at the closet as the tone resounded again from the other side of the door. As Rukia demurely dismounted the bed, Ichigo reached over to place the container of mostly uneaten shortcake on his bedside table. Rukia picked up the Denreishinki she had lain upon her folded dress and flipped it open to check the message she'd been sent. During all this, both occupants tried to catch their breaths, unaided by their racing hearts.
"Is it a Hollow?" Ichigo asked, sudden nervousness casting a pall over his elated heart. Rukia shaking her head in response swept it away again.
"Nothing like that. Actually,"—here, she blushed—"Rangiku-san showed Hinamori-san photos from the café, and now she wants us all to go tomorrow."
"Aren't you guys supposed to be on duty?" asked Ichigo accusingly. "Can they really afford to be down two Vice-Captains?"
"Three," corrected Rukia. "We're all Vice-Captains. But Hinamori-san has been on reduced duties since the battle with Aizen, and Rangiku-san and I are both on furlough for two more days." She said all this without looking up at Ichigo, instead busying herself with typing out a reply. "Things have been pretty peaceful since then."
"Oh...Congratulations," she heard Ichigo say. It made a smile tug at her lips. Flipping the phone closed, she showed him the smile his words had caused. "Thanks."
He blushed, looking askance. "Well, thankfully, I won't be there tomorrow," he said. Hearing that made Rukia feel as relieved as he undoubtedly was.
"I'm sure Rangiku-san won't miss you too badly," she grinned. She knew her colleague would find another handsome young man to tease tomorrow.
"Oh yeah? And what about you?" He looked into her eyes, a paper tiger playing at confrontation.
She grinned back. "I won't miss you at all," she told him. When his lips quirked into something akin to a snarl and a smile without being either, she continued. "After all," she said haughtily, pointing at the cake on the side table, "that's still for me, right? I'll be back tomorrow to finish it, so you'd better not eat it on me."
Ichigo blinked at the cake, then at Rukia, then scoffed. "Sure, it'll be here," he assured her. His tone was cocky, but his face was still red. "But don't expect me to feed you the whole thing," he barbed, finding a grin of his own.
Though Rukia huffed, she couldn't keep herself from smiling. "We'll see about that," she said as if challenging him. Her Denreishinki went off again. Reading it, she nodded. "I'd better go," she said. She walked over to where Ichigo sat and stepped up on the bed. Once she was standing beside him, she put a hand on his shoulder and leaned down to plant a kiss on his cheek. "See you tomorrow, Ichigo," she breathed into his ear. Then she stepped across the mattress, slid open the window, and prepared to jump out.
"Rukia," came Ichigo's voice pleadingly from behind her, causing her to freeze. She turned, her mind swirling with images of him pulling her back for one more taste of what they'd found.
"Yes, Ichigo?"
"You should change first."
She blinked. Looking down, she saw the maid dress. Embarrassment welled up within her, and her face went red.
"D-damn it!"