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tampered2007-07-08 05:03 pm
juicebox-woes.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-07-08 05:03 pm
Log: Ongoing
When; July 8, evening
Rating; Probably PG-13 for likely language
Characters; Kuchiki Rukia![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
juicebox_woes, Kurosaki Ichigo strawberried
Summary; Worried (and fed up) because of Ichigo's sudden bout of moping in the wake of Isshin's confession, Rukia decides to find a way to break him out of his slump, whether it is comforting or beatings that needs to be doled out.
Log;
With a sigh that was part worry and part frustration because of that worry, Rukia looked up for what had to have been the eighteenth time from her manga to level eyes on the closed door across the room from where she sat sprawled on the couch, feet propped up on a rather haphazardly arranged stack of pillows. He was still holed up in there. And it was beginning to grate on her nerves. Ichigo didn't brood. Well... at least he didn't normally brood. He got angry, hit things, and yelled. And that....she knew how to deal with, knew how to approach. But this sort of quiet, deep sulking that he'd chosen to immerse himself in? That was outside the realm of "Ichigo-crap" that she normally had to deal with.
And sure, if she set aside her own pride, she really didn't mind dealing with it all that much. Well -- ok, so it was still irritating -- but it was a part of who he was, and she honestly wouldn't want him any other way. But it still pissed her off. And it pissed her off even MORE because of how worried she knew she was about him. This....this wasn't normal, and it unnerved her to see him like this. Grumbling to herself about idiots and stubbornness, she swung legs off of the couch and padded her way into the kitchen. Sticking the plate of chocolate-chip cookies she's got at the store into the microwave, she carefully studied the buttons, remembering the numerous times he'd shown her how to work it. Watching as the device buzzed and whirred, managing to jump only slightly at the sharp ding as it finished, she retrieved the plate of now-warm confections and headed over to the door, rapping sharply.
"Oi, open up."
Rating; Probably PG-13 for likely language
Characters; Kuchiki Rukia
juicebox_woes, Kurosaki Ichigo strawberriedSummary; Worried (and fed up) because of Ichigo's sudden bout of moping in the wake of Isshin's confession, Rukia decides to find a way to break him out of his slump, whether it is comforting or beatings that needs to be doled out.
Log;
With a sigh that was part worry and part frustration because of that worry, Rukia looked up for what had to have been the eighteenth time from her manga to level eyes on the closed door across the room from where she sat sprawled on the couch, feet propped up on a rather haphazardly arranged stack of pillows. He was still holed up in there. And it was beginning to grate on her nerves. Ichigo didn't brood. Well... at least he didn't normally brood. He got angry, hit things, and yelled. And that....she knew how to deal with, knew how to approach. But this sort of quiet, deep sulking that he'd chosen to immerse himself in? That was outside the realm of "Ichigo-crap" that she normally had to deal with.
And sure, if she set aside her own pride, she really didn't mind dealing with it all that much. Well -- ok, so it was still irritating -- but it was a part of who he was, and she honestly wouldn't want him any other way. But it still pissed her off. And it pissed her off even MORE because of how worried she knew she was about him. This....this wasn't normal, and it unnerved her to see him like this. Grumbling to herself about idiots and stubbornness, she swung legs off of the couch and padded her way into the kitchen. Sticking the plate of chocolate-chip cookies she's got at the store into the microwave, she carefully studied the buttons, remembering the numerous times he'd shown her how to work it. Watching as the device buzzed and whirred, managing to jump only slightly at the sharp ding as it finished, she retrieved the plate of now-warm confections and headed over to the door, rapping sharply.
"Oi, open up."
no subject
Shit. Rubbing his forehead, he let her commandeer one of his legs without so much as a peep, before setting down his hand on his chest. The bed barely shifted with the addition of her weight, but he found it a little comforting in spite of himself. Then she shoved a plate of cookies in his face, and that ruined it a little.
He was pretty hungry, though.
"You didn't make those, did you?" he blurted, then realized that probably wasn't the smartest thing to say.