LOG

[strawberried.livejournal.com]

When; Today. Right now. Bwahaha.
Rating; F for Fluff
Characters; Ichigo [strawberried] and Rukia [juicebox_woes]
Summary; Rukia nearly blows someone's head off, Ichigo does something awkward and not-really-stupid, and all is made of sunshine and rainbows--or as sunshine-y and rainbow-y as Ichigo and Rukia can be.
Log;

Fingers pressed outward, palms flat against the wall as she chanted, soft voice an almost monotone against the equally soft hum of noise that represented the mechanics of the City proper. With a sigh and a mental call, Rukia felt the energy swirl down along her arms, concentrating itself into a ball of power that she pressed into the concrete, gritting her teeth as she willed it to change shape, alter it's form to that which she wanted. A pulse of energy and the kidou changed, shifting and melding with the wall, glowing circle of characters appearing around her palms for a moment. With a slight grin, the petite shinigami stepped back to study her handiwork. Grin turned to frown as the characters flashed, then faded away.

Dammit...still not good enough for that. I'll just have to practice more.

It had been Yoruichi's latest lesson, trying to mold the kidou into the surface. A tricky offensive tactic, one that allowed the wielder to essentially create what amounted to a land-mine with their kidou. Press the spell flush against the surface, temper and tame it and change it down until it entered a temporarily dormant state, that would be released when either the caster willed it, or when something of strong enough spiritual force came within a certain radius. The only problem so far was....she hadn't been able to make it last more than a few seconds. And the weather hadn't helped, with its persistent wet nature. But at least the snow was melting. She wasnt sure if she was happy or sad about that. Sure, she loved snow, but it made it damed hard to practice.

With a muffled curse and a sigh, she flopped down onto the concrete floor of the roof, glaring at her chosen patch of wall. At least the practice kept her mind off of other things. Other...more confusing things.

Ichigo could feel the flare and fall of her reiatsu with each kidou she cast, all the way through the building and into their apartment. He wasn't quite as productive, though, pacing around the room, and then, after a few moments, flopping down on his bed. The ceiling was very white. He stared at it for a long while, brows pulled together tightly, as Rukia practiced -- he couldn't figure out what she was doing exactly, though -- up on the roof, her spiritual pressure lying on the fringes of his consciousness. A reminder.

He'd really fucked things up this time. He'd been fucking things up for a long time -- as Tatsuki so helpfully reminded him -- and he really needed to stop being a pussy about it. As Tatsuki further reminded him.

Ichigo would've punched her for that advice, except he knew she was right. And the newest curse only made it blatantly obvious. Even his supreme powers of obliviousness couldn't hide that from him. Because when it came down to it, he -- well, he --

He would've done it. Even if he hadn't been cursed, he would've kissed her. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he was entirely cursed at that moment. The only thing that stopped him was the sudden fade to black, both around them and in his mind.

Cursing under his breath, he picked himself up off the bed, plowing a hand through his hair and striding down the hallway. He needed to -- to do something. After days of avoiding each other -- oh, who the fuck was he kidding? They'd been acting weird around each other for a long time now. It hadn't just started recently, no matter how much he didn't want to admit it.

He took the stairs two at a time, finally reaching the door to the roof and cracking it open. "Rukia?"

"Shit!"

A muffled curse as she saw the door open fractionally, just barely managing to swerve, the kidou blast impacting with a rumbling force a scant few feet from the edge of the door. Who the hell was coming up here like this?! Whoever they were, they were going to get killed. The kidou she'd been using wasn't one of the stronger ones, granted, but it would still have done considerable damage. With a sigh, she wiped the back of her hand across her forehead and froze, eyes widening.

That...that reiatsu....

With the sudden burst of adrenaline and shock from nearly toasting someone unintentionally with her kidou out of the way, it was childs play to recognize the familiar reiatsu that curled so close to her now. It would have been unmistakable in it's size and strength regardless, not to mention the haphazard control -- or lack thereof -- that it's owner possessed. But...even beyond that, she knew it, knew that flavour, that touch. Knew it as intimately as she knew a great deal of other things about him that she was constantly trying to put aside. And normally, she would have welcomed it, welcomed him. But not now. Right now....her thoughts where he was concerned were too chaotic, too jumbled for her to deal with him, leaving her with the countenance of a frightened rabbit, ready to bolt as soon as an exit presented itself.

As for that exit....she glanced around, trying to figure out if there was any other way off of the roof. Shunpo, perhaps? No, he'd just catch her. Biting her lip and mentally cursing the City, it's deities, and everything else that just seemed to be going wrong in her life, she backed up and waited. Maybe she could just brush it all off, act like things were normal. Hell, maybe he would just do like he always did and pretend it hadn't happened.

Ichigo had enough presence of mind -- which was to say his reflexes were quick enough -- that he pulled his head back inside the stairwell just as she redirected the blast of kidou. He felt the wall rumble with the force of the blow, her reiatsu sizzling like a firecracker as it scorched the edge of the door. Carefully turning the knob, he stuck his orange head out again before his body followed, his glance flicking over to the dark black stain on the wall -- just a few inches from where his head had been -- as he moved out onto the snow-covered roof.

"Fuck. Watch where you're aiming," he drawled automatically, a kind of knee jerk reaction to almost getting his head blown off. He'd nearly gotten himself killed plenty of times, but only Rukia earned an argument for her efforts.

Putting palm to temple, he scratched the top of his head, as if making sure it was still there. His other hand ended up in the pocket of his jeans in an imitation of casualness, though he was far from feeling casual. In fact, it felt like every muscle in his body was tense, every nerve on end. It had seemed like a good idea when he'd bolted up here, but now it wasn't feeling so good. The look on her face definitely wasn't helping; a cornered animal, he finally decided, feeling his shoulders slump a little.

Had he really messed everything up that badly?

She fought back the urge to run, to flee, to do anything so that she didn't have to see his face, didn't have to see that look he was giving her. Didn't he realize how hard it was for her, how painful it was to just get through a normal day of seeing him here, there, everywhere. It was the whole reason why she spent so much time away, so much time training and practicing and just....being gone. It wasn't that she wanted to avoid him, she just.....right now she didn't trust herself. Thankfully, his mildly sardonic reply elicited the normal response from her as well, eyebrows drawing together in a slight glare as she crossed arms across her chest, ignoring the slight chill of wintered air.

"Oh don't be such a fucking baby, you're the one who just stuck that stupid head of yours out before checking to see where I was aiming. You knew I was up here practicing."

But I wouldn't have been here still, had I known you were coming.. was the unspoken continuation, and though she did a fairly good job of hiding it, her tension and discomfort evident in the set of her stance, the slightly faraway expression in her eyes. And it wasn't from the chill air, or the snow that still layered the concrete of the roof in a half-melted slush that the skin on her shoulders was peppered with goosebumps. Ironically, she mused that it probably wouldn't have mattered even if she hadn't been wearing the abbreviated Special Forces uniform, seeing as they werent due to any chill.

Ichigo could tell she'd rather be anywhere but here; her body was tense, goosebumps creeping across her skin, and he'd never admit it, not even to himself, but it made something in his chest ache. She didn't trust him. Couldn't even trust him to be within five feet of her.

"Didn't mean you had to almost take my head off," he retorted, though without most of the bite. Arguments were all fine and dandy and shit, but usually not when your partner looked ready to bolt at the earliest opportunity. Hell, he was probably just driving her off; it seemed like everything he did lately had that effect. He hadn't even meant to push her away; it was just what he did when he didn't know what else to do, though it took until this moment for him to realize how effective it was.

He let go of his head, his hand finding its way into his other pocket, and he turned his gaze down towards the ground, covered in half-melted snow, under his sneaker-clad feet. He half-hoped she would just continue the argument and keep up the facade of normalcy, but that's just what it was: a facade. He frowned and lifted his head again, mouth set in a firm line. Would she run instead? He'd left the door behind him open without really meaning to, but he was closer and faster to escape, and they both knew it.

She frowned, fists on her hips. "You're just lucky I was able to change my aim." With a sigh, she tried to force herself to relax, eyes flickering to the open door behind him. She could do it, could make it there. He probably wouldn't expect it, but then she'd be left with trying to outrun him, and Rukia knew better. No, at least for the moment, she was trapped. Watching the emotions flicker across his face, she pushed back the stab of an ache that always rose in her chest whenever she spent too much time watching him, too much time contemplating and remembering and reliving countless small, nearly insignificant moments in her head. Turning, she rested her hands on the edge of the roof, staring down at the streets below.

"Did you need something, Ichigo?"

Had to be normal, had to act as though things hadn't changed. Not that she really thought she was fooling him. Hell, she knew she wasn't fooling him. And that...was part of what made it so hard. That she knew he noticed, knew he saw her pain, and knew that the only thing she could ever do to make it better was to cram those feelings even tighter into the box in the back of her mind that she'd created for it, tightening the lid as much as she could. But it didn't work. No matter how many times she ruthlessly crushed it, trying to keep it to herself, keep anyone from seeing it, it wasn't enough. And it showed, in everything she did, everything she said. The way she pushed herself tirelessly, using any means to keep herself busy, the way she was always watching him when she thought he couldnt see, the pain that flashed in her eyes with every time he pushed her even further away. Even the distant way she would sit and simply stare out at the sunset every night, frozen like a statue on the beach or the roof, as though if she could send her mind far away from her body, she could outrun the reality.

"Lucky?" he echoed disdainfully, with a snort. "I was faster than you, anyway." So she would just keep arguing. It would've been a shock if she hadn't, anyway, since it seemed to be all they ever did, at least normally. Well, that, and avoiding each other. They'd done both in spades while they'd been in the City. His hands balled into fists into his pocket, though he wasn't angry with her. Far from it.

He was angry with himself.

His brow furrowed at her question, and for a long moment, he was struck dumb. Caught off guard. He always had something to say, or at least a face to make, an insult to give, but this time, he had nothing. Why had he come up here? He was sick of toeing the line, of not knowing when he was crossing it. They needed to choose a side. Tatsuki's words hit him, and he shifted uncomfortably. You have two options.

One, they could pretend nothing was wrong. Two, they could do something. And the first option definitely wasn't working.

"I, uh," he blurted finally, looking away. He still couldn't figure out what he wanted to say. "We need to talk."

She couldn't help the wry chuckle that shuddered through her frame. At least he was direct. Always direct, even when he didn't want to be. Glancing back over her shoulder, she raised an eyebrow slightly, turning to rest back against the ledge, eyes on the softly falling drips of water as icecicles melted. Keeping up the semi-sardonic posture would help. At least....she hoped it would help. Talking usually...meant talking about something she didn't want to talk about, something upsetting and distressing.

"About what Ichigo?"

Inwardly she cursed the waver in her voice, the hesitant shake that found it's way out despite how hard she tried to keep it from showing. It was like the trembling she was trying to banish from her frame, the combination of fear and longing she was trying to keep from her eyes. Rukia knew perfectly well what he wanted to talk about, there could only be one thing. And that "thing" was the curse of a few days ago. The one where they'd almost.... Shaking her head to clear it, she leveled violet gaze on him, even if only for the moment or two that she could hold it before glancing away.

Dammit. She was supposed to know what they needed to talk about. She wasn't supposed to ask him about it. Ichigo shifted his weight awkwardly, moving with none of his usual fighter's grace as he took a step towards her, then another. She'd turned around to face him again, though he wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse -- sometimes it was easier talking to her if one of them was looking the other way. Neither of them was too comfortable with outward displays of emotion; they trusted each other to understand, without any awkward talks. Proof of how much this City had fucked everything that they were even holding this conversation.

"Um," he replied intelligently. He wasn't good at this. Actually, he sucked at this. The whole "feelings" thing. The whole "talking about your feelings" thing.

Shit. "About..." Maybe moving closer to her hadn't been the best idea. It suddenly felt hotter than it did a few seconds ago, and he swallowed thickly, resisting the urge to fiddle with the wallet chain at his hip. He didn't really need a wallet here in the City, what with the absence of real currency, but it was a comfort thing, dressing in the way he always had. It made him feel more like himself. Like this wasn't a crazy-ass interdimensional city with some of the weirdest fucking people he'd ever met. And he'd met some weird people before.

Just look at Rukia.

"You know," he finished a little sheepishly.

She flinched. For all of her self-control and resolve, Kuchiki Rukia flinched at his words. Dropping her head away, fingers tightening on the stone wall, she bit her bottom lip for a moment before shaking her head. "There...isn't anything to talk about, Ichigo. It.....it was just a curse, I understand that. I...."

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she squinted her eyes tightly closed against emminent tears that she was NOT going to allow to show. "I know that.....that it wouldn't have happened otherwise, and I'm.....sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I....I know I....have to.....accept that things are......not like they...they were...."

As much as she could hide the tears, the anguish, she couldn't keep the pain out of her voice, the tremor that just seemed to grow until her last words were spoken through gritted teeth. She didn't want him to know, didn't want him to see how much it hurt, how much it killed her to force herself to accept and come to terms with that fact. Any more than she wanted him to know the number of nights she had curled up on the roof alone and just let the tears come, just sobbed until there weren't any tears left. She wasn't supposed to be like that, wasn't supposed to be so weak. But then....he'd always been able to get through her defenses, hadn't he? Why would now be any different. Head snapping up, peering through tears that just stubbornly refused to go away, she took off, darting around him with agility learned from training with the Goddess of Flash, heading for the open door, trying not to slip on the slush-covered ground. She couldn't do this, couldn't face this. Not now, not when it hurt too badly, was too raw, too fresh in her mind. She had to get away.

Ichigo could feel his mouth opening reflexively, ready to cut her off. That wasn't what he meant. There was something to talk about, because it wasn't really about the curse anymore. But something in her voice -- her tone, maybe, or how small it was -- stopped him, and he stood for a split-second gaping like a fish before snapping his mouth shut again. His brows tilted sympathetically; he could tell she was trying not to cry. He just knew. A part of him was almost horrified he'd actually managed to make her cry, and another part of him was surprised as all hell. He'd never actually seen her cry, except once, and that had been when she was about to be executed.

"Ru-Rukia--" he said, voice catching with surprise as she brushed past him. He was taken aback enough that he didn't reach out in time to catch her, but he was hot on her heels by the time she made it inside the stairwell door, his hand darting out to grab onto her upper arm. She was a lot faster than he was expecting, and even after he'd caught her, he stopped and stared for a few moments, his brain catching up to his body.

So she did decide to run after all. It stung a little, knowing that. She was giving up on him. And them.

"Rukia," he repeated with a sad sigh.

She bit her lip, halting with a jerk as he grabbed her arm, yanking at it, trying to wrench herself from his grasp. Spinning around towards him, she tried to pry his fingers loose, not even caring if he saw the tears anymore. What did it matter, anyway? He already knew she was crying, she knew that perfectly well. There was little point in trying to hide it.

Sobbing, fingers scrabbling at his grip, she pulled at her arm, seeking freedom, still trying to flee. "L....let go, just.....I can't do this, Ichigo, I can't....can't keep holding it all in, can't keep......can't keep pretending I don't....don't feel....."

Why couldnt he just let her go, why did he have to drag this out. She already knew what he was going to say, that he didn't feel the same way, that she was making things awkward and that hurt, more so because she knew it wasn't the case, she knew he did care. He just....wouldn't do anything about it. Well, anything other than pushing her away. Looking up at him, she jerked her arm again, not caring if it hurt, or if her shoulder protested at the treatment. "I'm just screwing it all up, just....just making things hard for you, it's.....better if I'm not around, then you......you dont have to see, don't......have to watch me hurting......because......because I love you too much to just.....just forget it all...That...that was the happiest I've ever been....and...and I.....I want to be happy like that again!"

Ichigo was silent, dumbfounded by the rush of words tumbling out of her mouth, the strength of her bitterness and pain, and he realized that she'd been holding a lot in for a long time now. He felt his eyes go wide, his hand loosening its grip on her arm until she yanked herself away from him, her body shaking with the force she used to pull out of his grasp. Tears were shining in her eyes, and he was struck still, unmoving as she spoke.

He'd noticed some of the hints. He knew that it was hard on her sometimes, and it made it harder on him, too, as he tried to figure everything out, to swallow the idea of this whole City thing along with the fact that he had a history here. A history he didn't remember, but other people still held on to. But he didn't know that this was how hard she held on, and while a part of him actually hurt for her, the rest of him...

"Idiot."

Without thinking, he reached out to grab her arm again, pushing her back against the wall and bringing his lips down on hers. He wasn't exactly sure why he did it; he told himself that it was because he just wanted her to shut up, but he knew that it wasn't just that. He wanted to do it, and he'd been wanting to do it for a long time, even if he'd never quite realized it himself. He wanted to make things better, to make her smile again, to make everything normal.

And he had to admit, it was nice. Okay, maybe a lot better than nice. His hand instinctively traveled up her arm to cup her cheek, the tips of his fingers threading in her hair.

Rukia froze, dark violet eyes widening impossibly as she found herself shoved back against the wall, his mouth covering hers, his fingertips grazing across her cheek. She could feel herself tremble, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes as she tried to resist, tried to fight it. It.....couldn't be real, it was just another curse. Either that, or worse, he was pitying her. Doing this because he knew she wanted it, knew it would shut her up. At least, that was what she wanted to think. Well ok , not what she wanted to think, but she didn't think she had the courage right now to think what she really wanted. For it to be real, for the pain to stop and for all the missing pieces to fall back into place.

Ichi.....go.....

Slowly, hesitantly at first, her limbs uncurled themselves from their frozen, near fetal position, hands sliding tentatively up the front of his shirt to rest on his shoulders as she kissed him back, fingers curling themselves into the fabric of his shirt. It might have just been pity, or another curse, but....she didn't care. He was there, he was holding her, it didn't matter if it might be for only this moment. At least right now, she was happy.

Ichigo felt her stiffen underneath him, his free arm winding around her waist when her body started trembling, pulling her against his chest. He fumbled once, their lips parting for a moment as he maneuvered around the height difference. Sucking in a quick breath, he pushed her a little farther up the wall, using his body to pin her there before pressing his lips against hers again.

He was following his instinct now, filling in the blanks inexperience left him as he tried not to think about how much more experienced she was at this. Since -- well -- her and him. Last time. So, technically, he would be just as experienced, except--

Okay, he wasn't thinking about this.

Hesitantly, almost experimentally, he tilted his head to the side and ran his tongue along her lower lip. He wasn't even sure why he did it; it was as if his brain had been completely shut off, and all he could focus on was the way she tasted, how soft her skin was under his fingers, and how much he really, really wanted to keep doing this.

She could feel him lift her up, his lankier form pressing hers against the wall as he kissed her back, his arms tightening around her. Small fingers slipped up from his shoulders, curling around the back of his neck and into spiky orange hair as she pulled herself closer against him, losing herself in the familiar and somehow bittersweet feeling of his lips on hers, his arms twined tightly around her. Even the feel of the wall against her back was nostalgic in a way, causing her cheeks to redden slightly at the thought.

A little gasp of surprise as he shifted his mouth, tongue stroking gently against her lips, asking silent entrance, and she obliged, lips parting and her own tongue darting out to touch his. She was so nervous, so much more nervous than the first time they'd ever done this, but this time was different, it seemed as though there was so much more hanging in the balance, so much more she could stand to lose if she did the wrong thing, moved too fast. As much as she wanted this, as much as she yearned to stop holding back and just let go, that wasn't the right course of action. It was like Isshin had said, she just needed to be patient. And with this....it didn't seem like it would be such a hard thing to do, now.

Ichigo made a low, content noise in the back of his throat as her fingers wove in his hair, before pushing his tongue between her parted lips. He was on autopilot now, all of his senses buzzing, hypersensitive to each sensation: her warmth, her smell, clean and sharp, her taste, her body pressed against his. She was so small, really, and it was something he never really paid too much attention to, but it was hard not to notice as he lifted her clean off her feet, taking her weight easily before pinning her back against the wall. They were eye to eye now, and he finally pulled back, his fingers seeming to trace her jaw of their own volition as he caught his breath.

Wow. Maybe it was different when you weren't cursed -- and a little drunk -- because that high school prom thing was nothing like that. At all.

"Rukia," he said quietly, and it came out as a part-question. Because a whole lot had just changed right there, and he wasn't entirely sure this was what she wanted. Well, he'd kind of gotten the idea by the way she kissed him, but it didn't hurt to check. Just in case she decided to murder him in his sleep for this.

The look in his eyes was enough to make her tear up again, lower lip trembling. It was almost too much to take in, that he would....do that, be like this. She felt her chin drop, shoulders trembling before her face was buried in his shoulder and her arms were twined as tightly as she could wind them around his neck, holding on as if it was the last chance that she'd ever have.

It was even better than she'd thought it might be, as many times as she'd imagined this renewal, this second chance to be. Nuzzling her face into his shoulder, she sighed, content. "Tell me.....tell me it's real, Ichigo? If...if you tell me it's real......I'll believe you."

It might have been a little unfair to ask, to want that reasurance, but she'd been walking the thin wire, holding her own feelings in for so long after finally gathering the courage to bring them to light and act on them, that she just needed to hear him say it. Even though his actions had already said that and so much more. Just a simple, single syllable, that was all she wanted, really. Just to know.

Oh shit. She better not be crying again. How the hell did he manage to do that twice in a five minute span? For a moment, Ichigo was positive he'd done something wrong, said something horrible and now he was going to get a knee to the crotch. But when she buried her face in his shoulder, her arms snaking around his neck and holding him so tightly he thought she might just be trying to choke him, he realized that maybe he'd actually done something right.

Finally.

"Yeah," he said after a long pause, one arm hooking under her thighs, fitting her against his chest. "It is."

Closing his eyes, he leaned forward enough to rest his forehead against the wall, his cheek pressed against the side of her head. It was real. He just made it real.

Holy shit.

The relief was like the snapping of a thread, as though some invisible coil of tension that had been building for so long finally snapped, releasing her from it's binds. Sniffling, she snuggled her face against his neck, not caring that the tears were still flowing, because this time they weren't tears of pain. She believed him, she'd always believed him. And now...things would be ok again. Pulling back, she ran fingers up the back of his neck, tugging his head away from the wall to nuzzle her cheek against his before pressing lips gently to his. "Thank you...."

Damn, she was crying again. He didn't know what to do with crying women, for shit's sake. Does not compute. Almost clumsily, Ichigo wrapped his other arm around her, hugging her to his chest as her tears soaked his shirt. This was a little awkward. Well, maybe not for her, since Rukia seemed pretty damn happy, happier than he'd seen her in a long time. It didn't matter that she was crying; he knew.

Except she was still crying. And then kissing him again. Alright, he could deal with that.

"Ah, uh," he answered succinctly, his fingers flaring across the small of her back. Finally, he shook his head and added, "Don't."

"Don't what?" Her voice had lost the tense edge it had carried, the tension also draining away from a small frame made smaller, thinner by the abuses she'd heaped on it in her attempts to keep her mind off of the one thing she hadn't known how to fight, how to overcome. She'd known what she was doing to herself, with the constant training, the pushing herself into exhaustion again and again and again, but she hadn't cared. It just....hadn't mattered. Not the way it should have. It was as though everything had been detached, so far away from herself that it hadn't even seemed as though it was her.

Maybe that was why she was suddenly feeling the effects, the sudden whooshing drain of tension leaving room for the tiredness to set in. But she wasn't ready to give in to it yet. She was too happy, too content right now. Snuggling her head up under his chin, she sighed softly, arms still wound tightly around his neck. "Can I stay like this?"

He shook his head again, expression softening in spite of himself. It wasn't as easy as it might've been, but he pulled his brows together and said, with an air of annoyance, "Don't say that."

The release of tension was contagious, and he found himself heaving a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he rested more of his weight against the wall. He realized belatedly that there was a distinct possibility he was crushing her now, what with most of his weight holding her to the wall and the fact that she was half his size. Even smaller now, he noticed. Lifting a hand, he pressed it to the wall next to her head, pushing himself back on the heels of his feet.

She went with him, her arms still wrapped around his neck like a chokehold, and he blinked. Had she really missed him that much? Maybe missed wasn't the right word. It was a little disconcerting, though, even if a part of him was just glad to see her happy again. It'd been a while.

Blinking again, he leaned forward and asked, a bit baffled, "What, against the wall?"

Rolling her eyes slightly, she loosened her grip on his neck to lean back and look him in the eyes with a slightly exasperated expression. "No, moron. Not against the wall. Just...like this. With you. I don't care where, though the wall is certainly not my first choice."

Reluctantly pulling one hand from around his neck, she raked it through black locks that had fallen in her face, shoving them out of the way so dark-ringed eyes could focus better on him. Smiling slightly, she hesitantly reached up to slide fingertips along the side of his face, threading them into bright hair. "I missed this..."

And it was true, she had missed it. Almost more then some of the other things that had been absent, she had missed the closeness the most. Even setting aside the intimacy level that she wanted, the two of them had always been close in so many ways, always able to read each other like a book. And when the City had stolen him from her, only to return him in a different state, all of that had crumbled around them, trust replaced with awkwardness and suspicion, intimacy with distance. And it had been that loss, that absence, that had been one of the hardest to take.

"Oh." Frowning, Ichigo considered this for a moment -- cuddling. This was like cuddling. Oh God. Well, it wasn't like he hadn't had to do it before. "Er, right." If he sounded a little less than enthused, it was because he was thinking of all the people who would never, ever find out about this.

And maybe of how there was suddenly a this now. It was true, he had thought about it -- them -- before, even before he came to the City. But that was just it -- they were just thoughts, little stolen ones he always squashed underfoot when they popped up. He preferred not to think about that kind of stuff at all if he could help it, and he could, for the most part. So he focused on training or kicking ass or his family or friends instead, and chalked his few traitorous thoughts up to impossibility, a stupid whim, and left it at that. They'd been through too much, they still had a lot more shit to do, they belonged in different places -- it wasn't hard coming up with reasons.

She didn't feel the same way. He could ruin everything.

Now it didn't matter. Her fingers in his hair broke him from his reverie, the constant furrow of his brows smoothing out slightly. What was he supposed to say to that?

"Okay," he said stiffly, looking away. As if to make up for his uncertainty, he lifted them away from the wall, leaning on his hand as he waited for her to crawl down. Or, at least, wrap her legs around his waist or something. She wasn't heavy, but he still wasn't going to do all the work.

Rukia couldn't help the slight smirk at his reaction, it was so like him. She would have been lying if she said she hadn't hoped he would fall back into the old way of things, the way they'd been before, but at the same time she knew that was ludicrous to consider. While this wasn't new, wasn't strange to her, everything was a first for him right now. As far as his mind was concerned, he'd never held her like this, never kissed her, and certainly never gotten used to her affectionate behaviour.

Feeling the wall shift away from her back as he moved, she scooted herself up a tad, wrapping legs almost automatically around his waist. And no, she was NOT blushing at the fact that she did it almost without thinking. It just...worked, and not only for those situations she was going to determinadly NOT think about right now. Even for something as simple as this, he was nearly a foot and a half taller then her. There was no way the height difference could NOT be taken into account.

Legs tightening so that she didn't slide down, she slipped arms back around his neck again, eyes level with his. She had to admit, it was rather nice to be on eye level with him, even if it was only because he was holding her. Smiling, she leaned in to brush another soft kiss against his lips. It was just too tempting, too nice not to.

Ichigo's brows nearly disappeared into his hairline as she immediately wound her legs around his waist -- it was a little scary how easily she did it, and he had to remind himself that yeah, it would be easy for her. Was it always going to be this weird? Sure, it was nice to finally clear the air -- and, you know, kiss -- but it wasn't like he could forget that she'd already done all this. And it wasn't like she could forget either.

Well at least she was smiling again. He didn't even mind so much that she was using him as a human pony -- then again, she always did that anyway. It was just that now she was stuck to his chest like a starfish, instead of sitting on his shoulders like a toddler.

There was a big difference.

Returning the kiss, he hooked his arm around her waist to make sure she didn't slip, before heading down the stairs, his free hand following the railing as they descended. To their apartment.

He'd never really realized what that meant until now.

Oh. Oh shit.

What the hell did he just get himself into?