A/n: My first Bleach fanfic … be gentle. To my other readers: I'm sorry about the delay on Heaven, Precious Things and The Game after you've all been SO supportive and understanding but I promise the updates will come. Life has just been really hectic the last while and my muse seemed to have disappeared but she is back in full force with Perfect Fit and hopefully this will translate into my Naruto fics as well! Thank you for bearing with me, I really appreciate your support.

Warnings: AU … in the sense that I've just omitted any mention of the supernatural aspects. That aside all the characters are there and their relationships are the same as in canon. If that makes sense xD hopefully it won't bother anyone. Also, this is set after the series so there may be some spoilers. Read at your own risk.

Disclaimer: Tite Kubo owns Bleach

Chapter 1

He'd noticed her the first day of high school. It would have been impossible not to. With her vibrant auburn hair, framing angelic features, and her endless legs, everyone had noticed Inoue Orihime. In later years Ishida had often wondered what his fourteen-year-old self would have thought if, on the first day of school, he had been told that, one day, the girl every boy was ogling shamelessly would be his friend.

The first few years of high school had passed peacefully enough and, eventually, Ishida had risen above such petty things as wondering (fleetingly) what those mile-long legs would feel like wrapped around him. He had even been proud of his self-control, brought about by endless hours of forcing himself to be better, to work harder, when Orihime had become a part of his life. It meant that he could be her friend; that he could accept her hopeless devotion to Kurosaki with aplomb. It had been a relief even, to no longer be plagued by the vague sense of displacement, the frantic heartbeat and sweaty palms (the desperate prayers that his body would behave) whenever he saw Orihime.

Still, he had been glad for the fresh start that college represented. Because even if he seemed to have gotten his wayward (and slightly confused) feelings for Orihime under control, he hadn't really ever been able to shake the feeling off completely. Maybe it would have been better if he'd actually dated, or something, (he wasn't really sure if he'd ever had that option), maybe then he would have been able to be as oblivious to Orihime's charms as Kurosaki appeared to be. But a whole other world was waiting for him now, with no Orihime in it to drown out the other colors.

By the time he went home for the holidays (because even if his father was a bastard it was unthinkable to not go home for the holidays) he would be cured of the obsession with Inoue Orihime.

So, it was with hope that Ishida Uryuu stared up at the imposing dorm that housed pre-med students, and it was easy to believe that Karakura Town, and its inhabitants, were now only meaningful in his memories.

Inoue Orihime glanced uncertainly around her dorm room. She was lucky to have landed a single but everything was in its place and that made her feel uncomfortable, like she wasn't home. College had seemed like an impossible dream since she couldn't expect her relatives to pay for more than they already had. But on her eighteenth birthday she'd been contacted by her brother's lawyer and the modest bequest her brother had left her had been officially hers. Combined with the scholarship she'd never known Tatsuki had applied for in her name and suddenly, what had seemed an impossible dream, could easily become reality.

She had been terrified.

Leaving Karakura, leaving Tatsuki, leaving Ichigo … she had felt as if she was free-falling with a malfunctioning parachute. But Tatsuki had been right; it was an opportunity that couldn't be missed. Luckily the last year had seen a definite improvement in her grades (the result of so many hours spent alone) and the school had forced her to apply to colleges she'd had no intention of attending until the last minute … everything had fallen into place and Orihime hadn't known how to stop the headlong rush.

So here she was, staring at the white walls that were now covered with pictures of her friends, mementos of home, and things she liked. The bed was made up with her sheets, and covered with her new black, white and red comforter. Her clothes were overflowing from the closet (because Orihime had learned how to find articles she liked for amounts she could afford and later, with Ishida's help, she'd learned how to make things). The desk was still bare, containing only the closed laptop that had been a graduation and going-away gift from Tatsuki and her parents. She'd hated having to accept the thing, it was far too expensive even if all of them had pooled their money to buy it, but she hadn't known how to refuse when they'd all looked so hopeful and proud.

Orihime shook her head violently enough that her long hair flew around her face and settled haphazardly over her shoulders. She was determined not to lose that faith in her abilities; she would make a success of this and bask in their pride when she returned home for the holidays. Of course, she didn't actually have a home to return to, because she'd ended the lease on her apartment, but not going home was unthinkable. She would stay with Tatsuki or she would make another plan. But the semester hadn't even begun yet and Orihime's naturally optimistic outlook wouldn't allow her to wallow in homesickness when her adventure had barely begun.

For the first time in her life she was alone. For the first time she would have to look out for herself. (The endless litany of do's and don't's Tatsuki had drilled into her floated around in her head). Tatsuki had always been there to help whenever Orihime needed it, and where Tatsuki stopped Ichigo, Uryuu and Chad had continued. It was almost exciting to think that she would now find herself in situations that she would have to handle on her own.

Still, the situations she (secretly) longed for wouldn't come knocking at her door, so Orihime shook her head once more, decisively, and grabbed her purse. With a last satisfied look at her living space she locked the door behind her and headed out. She needed a job if she expected to eat, and now was as good a time as any to start looking. It gave her the perfect excuse to explore and maybe make some new friends without hanging around like some sad, homesick girl who followed groups of people with puppy eyes.

She chose a random direction once she was outside and, her heart pounding with a mixture of hope and fear, Orihime set out to make the campus her home.

Ishida emerged from his (admittedly Spartan) dorm room, satisfied that everything was as it should be. The bed had been made with his new dark blue sheets and comforter (500 thread count Egyptian cotton, thank you very much, because even if his father was paying for his schooling the bastard owed him more than that). His clothes had been neatly hung in the closet and his desk was already stacked with books and stationary. With nothing else to do Ishida had decided to explore the pre-med buildings; it would be helpful if, on his first day, he already knew where everything was.

It was a peaceful feeling, having a purpose (unlike the milling, dazed freshmen he'd seen on his way in) and he couldn't help the stab of pride. Like everything else in his life he would make a success of this. He already appreciated the serious, studious feel of the pre-med dormitory, knew he would fit in with his peers because you didn't become a doctor without devoting yourself wholeheartedly to the endeavour. As such he wasn't too concerned with making friends (something the milling people outside seemed to find of paramount importance if he took the halting stabs at conversation-with-strangers into account).

He'd noticed the small coffee shop on his way into his dorm, situated in a small building attached to the library almost as an afterthought (it was incredibly lucky that his dormitory was so close to the library!) Ishida dug a hand into the pocket of his jeans to make sure he had his wallet and headed across the rolling green lawn to buy a cup of coffee. Even before he'd reached the small shop he noticed a crowd of people just inside the glass doors, pressing closely together in front of the counter. His lips pulled into a grimace of distaste but he decided to brave the push of so many bodies and slipped inside. It was louder than he expected; coffee orders being shouted amidst laughter and conversation, but since no one appeared to actually be in line, Ishida pushed his way through to the counter without having to wait.

"One coffee, black, no sugar, please," he told the person behind the counter without looking up, focused on extracting his wallet from his pocket.

"Coming right up."

The cheerful voice froze Ishida into place, wallet half out of his pocket, and for a moment he willed himself to be calm.

It wasn't her. It couldn't be her.

He took a deep breath and slowly lifted his head, eyes focused intently on the girl behind the counter. Long auburn hair, big grey eyes, full lips shining wetly with the pink lipgloss Orihime had always favored. She was wearing a little green apron over her plain t-shirt and jeans and it was that detail more than anything else that finally convinced Ishida he wasn't dreaming.

"Here you go," she whirled back and placed the paper cup in front of him, looking up with a smile.

The smile quickly turned into a gasp that flowed seamlessly into a delighted squeal, and then Orihime was rushing around the counter and throwing her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug that Ishida neither returned nor rebuffed.

Because he was still shocked. Not because the feel of her soft curves pressing against his body had frozen him in a resurgence of his youthful, panicked pleading with any deity that would listen to keep him from reacting.

"You're here! I was wondering if I'd run into you or if I'd have to go looking for you but I didn't want to bother you before you'd arrived and unpacked and everything."

Mercifully the deities listened on this occasion (they didn't always) and Ishida cleared his throat, pushing his glasses into place with his index finger as Orihime finally let go and stepped back.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, more brusquely than he'd intended perhaps, but he felt justified in being a bit curt considering the shock he'd just received.

"Oh! That's right, you don't know. You'd already left with your father for your overseas trip by the time everything was decided …" she lifted a thoughtful finger to her lips, "where to start? Um … well, on my birthday I found out my brother had left me some money in a trust that I could only access once I'd turned eighteen, so I didn't need to have my relatives pay more than they already had. That was why I'd decided not to go to college, you know, because I just couldn't expect more from them. But it turns out that Tatsuki had applied for a scholarship for me, and with my brother's gift I figured I could afford it, if I found a job too. And you know the school forced us to apply to colleges if our grades were good enough so I had a place I just had to accept and … well, here I am."

She smiled happily up at him, but Ishida frowned as he struggled to pick the important parts out of the babble.

Maybe because he didn't want to accept it, didn't want this to be anything other than a dream, it took a long time for the facts to seep into his brain and become reality.

"That's great, I'm happy for you," he finally managed and he didn't miss the sharp look of concern she levelled at him but it was the best he could do at the moment.

Another voice, coming from - he assumed - the kitchen, called her name and Orihime jumped a little.

"Oh, I'd better get back to work," she told him as she rounded the counter and took up her previous position, "I was lucky to get this job so easily."

For a moment, the old protective instincts rose inside him … she couldn't really think she'd obtain her degree and handle a job without damaging her health … but he remembered his earlier resolutions and abruptly decided that, even though Orihime was attending the same college, it didn't mean anything. It was a big campus; they'd barely ever see each other anyway.

"Um, here's your coffee," she said, breaking into his thoughts as she nudged the paper cup towards him and waited expectantly.

He quickly handed over the money he owed, aware now of the restless line that had formed behind him, and with a quick wave in Orihime's general direction he pushed back through the crowd, coffee in hand.

Once outside he took deep breaths of air, trying to calm the racing of his heart, but when his eyes finally focused properly again (seeing more than just the play of shadows and light on her hair and her face) Ishida realized with a sense of dread that it was already too late. The grass wasn't as green as it had been a few minutes before, the entire scene spread before him seemed less vibrant. It may be a big campus but he hadn't reckoned with himself.

Because despite his dismay at the muted colors, and the way his thoughts didn't seem to want to leave the girl in the shop behind him, one thought rose to prominence in his mind and refused to be banished.

Orihime is here. Kurosaki isn't.

People often thought that Orihime was an airhead. She didn't know how so many people reached that conclusion about her brain power after having just met her, but there it was. She was used to it. The fact that she looked the way she looked probably didn't help, she could concede that, nor did the fact that, while her dorm-mates where rushing sororities and checking out guys and parties in between classes and studying, she had to work.

In a coffee shop.

Orihime winced slightly as she tied the little green apron around her hips. Somehow she'd never noticed how mean people could be. The friends she'd managed to make had looked horrified the first time she'd had to cut a visit short because she had extra shifts to pick up and the money was always welcome. Intellectually she knew that there was no shame in having to work to earn money; intellectually she knew that she couldn't be the only poor student on campus but sometimes it felt that way. Sometimes she thought that all the girls in her dormitory had come to college more to have fun and flirt with boys than to obtain degrees to start them off on their chosen career paths.

Still, she was enjoying herself despite the occasional pitying looks from her friends. She'd learned not to mention her job too much and the few parties she'd managed to attend (school had never been this hard; when she wasn't working she was studying) had even resulted in a few flirtatious encounters that still sent her into giggling spasms of glee whenever she was alone. Somehow she'd never noticed how protected her existence had been in Karakura.

The boys she'd known had never seriously tried to make a move on her (which may have been because the whole word seemed to know how she felt about Ichigo) despite the way their eyes had lingered hotly on her body. Despite what Tatsuki seemed to think, Orihime wasn't a complete idiot when it came to sex. She knew very well that most of the male student body (and some of the girls too) found her attractive. It was just that she'd never been overly bothered by it; had been too caught up in Ichigo and the way he made her feel to really focus on the way she possibly made anyone else feel. In retrospect she realized that it was stupid; she shouldn't have let Tatsuki baby her so much, she shouldn't have let Ichigo and Chad and Uryuu scare off potential suitors with their glares and their menacing stances. But, at the time, she'd just enjoyed being cossetted by her friends; the family she'd missed so much after her brother's death.

Still, if she'd been a bit more experienced maybe she wouldn't find the social aspects of attending college so … bewildering. She was used to wearing what she wanted (no matter how revealing or tight-fitting because, mostly, she just grabbed whatever came to hand and looked okay) secure in the knowledge that her friends' presence would be a buffer between her and the world. She'd been shocked the first time she'd made the mistake of attending a party with her friends in a dress that had fitted loosely last year but definitely didn't now. Orihime learned quickly that unless she wanted to be the object of lecherous comments and wandering hands, she would have to pay more attention to how she presented herself to the world. It was disconcerting, but not an insurmountable obstacle.

Her classes, however, made up for what the social side lacked. School had never stimulated her this much. She hadn't elected a major as yet, there was still time and she was enjoying trying all the various courses that caught her interest. Sociology and psychology and anthropology; she hugged the knowledge she was gaining to herself every day. Thinking about theories she'd just been taught made the dreary hours of serving coffee pass by quickly.

Her only real regret of the last six weeks was that she hadn't seen much of Ishida. Of course, he was pre-med; he didn't have time to cultivate a social life … she understood that, she really did. But a side of her couldn't help but think, somewhat petulantly, that he might have made time for an occasional cup of coffee with her. They were friends, weren't they? After their (somewhat weird, and she didn't know why it had been weird) encounter in the coffee shop on the first day, Ishida had avoided the place like the plague. At first she'd been happy enough to let him get on with his work because she knew that was of the utmost importance to him; and she understood that his course-load made hers look like a walk in the park. But eventually it had become increasingly clear that it wasn't the coffee she'd sold him he'd taken exception to … no, Ishida was avoiding her.

She didn't know how to fix whatever had gone wrong between them, and she was too afraid to confront him and ask. Because this way, at the back of her mind, she could pretend that he was just busy.

Orihime absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair around her finger as she contemplated the state of her friendship with Ishida Uryuu. Of course, he'd always been a loner, but it had never appeared as if he objected to Orihime's company … she didn't know what to make of the whole situation. She shook her head to dislodge the thoughts; this was why she hated the lulls of the evening shift. Most students were having dinner, the rush wouldn't come until much later when the studious ones were ready to return to their books after a dose of caffeine, and the partiers needed to sober up.

With a sigh she leaned her elbows on the counter, shifting restlessly, and cupped her chin in her hands as she allowed her thoughts to return to the problem. She must have been staring at him through the glass doors for a minute or more before she realized who she was seeing. Head ducked down so the dark strands of hair covered most of his face, messenger bag bulging with books slung over one shoulder, and with his hands dug deep into his pockets, Ishida Uryuu was making his way across the lawn towards the library.

It was impulsive, and probably stupid, but Orihime made a split-second decision and quickly called to her boss that she was stepping out for a moment before she could talk herself out of it.

The wind was cold, cutting through the thin sweater she wore (in her haste she hadn't grabbed her coat despite the way winter had settled over the campus in the last week or so) but Orihime didn't pay the involuntary shiver any mind as she quickly jogged across the brown grass.

"Ishida!"

For a moment she worried that he wouldn't stop, that he hadn't heard her, and the panic that threatened to overtake her made no sense, but then he paused mid-stride and turned to look over his shoulder. It was strange that the small action, the fact that he'd heard her and stopped, should make her feel so buoyant, but Orihime merely closed the last few feet between them and offered her (possibly, maybe, hopefully) friend a bright smile between deep breaths.

College sucked. The courses were tedious (why did the curriculum for first year med students rely so heavily on revising material they'd already done in high school?), the people were annoying (seriously, college was not about partying) and his hopes of having found an environment completely suited to him had waned as autumn and then winter had taken hold of the campus. As soon as everyone had been more settled the atmosphere in his dormitory changed. Of course, there was a lot of studying, but there seemed to be an even amount of social interaction that Ishida had no patience for. Loud hallway conversations late at night as people returned from "study groups" (yeah right, studying … at this rate he would be the only pre-med student that actually made it to the second semester) disrupted the few hours of sleep he managed between keeping up with tests and papers and reading.

Always, at the back of his mind, was the knowledge that Orihime was somewhere close by. A few days after the coffee shop incident, Ishida had begun to feel bad about the way he'd treated someone who was, after all, one of the few friends he had. But shortly after he'd resolved to find Orihime and get their friendship back on an even keel, the inevitable had happened. She'd been heading to a party, as far as he could tell when he'd seen her across the quad, surrounded by a gaggle of girls all dressed to the nines, and she hadn't looked at all like Orihime.

Her dress had been too short, revealing those mile-long legs encased in black leggings, the low heels of her boots just accentuating the slender length. Her hair had been in a tousled, shining disarray and when she'd turned to laugh at something someone said he'd clearly been able to see the smoky lines of make-up that brought out the grey of her eyes. It had felt as if his heart stuttered to a halt before resuming its beats at twice the speed from before, and instinctively he'd wanted to pull the knee-length coat he was wearing from his shoulders and drape it over her body. Not just because she was receiving looks he didn't really like, but also because the temperature had dropped considerably and she would catch a cold if she wasn't careful.

It was the crowd surrounding her that had brought him back to his senses; with his bag on the ground and one arm out of the coat sleeve. Orihime was all grown up (god, how he wished it wasn't so obvious) and she was enjoying herself. She didn't need to be rescued and she decidedly did not need to be rescued by him.

By the time he'd flopped down on his bed, Ishida had made his decision. He would never stop caring about her well-being but he needed to distance himself from this pseudo-friendship. Because if he was honest with himself (and he was sure his defences were down simply because he was so goddamn tired) then he'd never really been her friend. The awareness of her was too much for his good intentions; his interactions with her only translated into selfish thoughts. He knew very well that Orihime didn't think of him in that way. Maybe college would teach her to get over her unrequited crush on Kurosaki but that didn't mean she would automatically fall into his arms.

So he'd decided to give up the ghost, avoid her for a while (just until he was able to stomach the idea of her with someone else because that was inevitable, a girl like Orihime wouldn't be single for too long once she realized she was over Kurosaki) and then see about establishing a more distant friendship.

He hadn't been having much success. In fact, the more he tried not to think about her the more she appeared in his thoughts at the most inopportune times.

Now she was standing in front of him. Wearing a ridiculously thin and soft sweater in a shade of green that did wonderful things to her hair and her eyes, with a smile that could light up the entire campus and he wasn't ready.

"Hey," he managed at last, aware that he'd been staring but not knowing what else to do.

"I haven't seen you in forever!"

She poked an accusing finger into his shoulder and Ishida fought not to close his eyes and savor the small touch (he was being ridiculous, there was no way he could feel that through his coat).

"Sorry," he muttered, hoarsely, and he should have cleared his throat before attempting to speak but it was too late now, "been busy. Class, you know."

A brief look of concern flashed across her expressive features and suddenly Ishida was back to begging any deity that would listen that she wouldn't ask if he was okay; he wouldn't be able to stand it.

"I figured," she smiled understandingly, "your courses must be rough. But you need a break and I need your advice."

For a split second Ishida could clearly see the carnage that would result if she'd somehow managed to fall in love with another unavailable guy and he had to listen to her laments all over again.

"Actually-"

"Oh! I'd better get back inside, but I get off work in a couple of hours. I'll meet you out here and we can have a cup of coffee and talk."

She was gone before he could make excuses and, as Ishida resumed his trek to the library, he silently admitted that the study session he'd had planned would now be a complete bust. It never occurred to him to send her a message, or call her, to decline the invitation. He wouldn't do that to Orihime any more than he would stand her up, though that course of action would have been, by far, the safest for his sanity.

Her heart was pounding a staccato rhythm against her breastbone as Orihime waved goodbye to her co-workers and tried to shrug into her coat at the same time. Her attempts were hindered by the cups of coffee she was carrying and, with a growl of impatience, she shouldered the glass door open, intent on putting the coffee down on the low wall outside so she could get her coat in place. She'd barely stepped outside before the coffee was taken out of her hands and she smiled gratefully at Ishida.

"Thanks. Didn't plan that out too well!" she laughed lightly as she pushed her arm through the remaining sleeve. She took a deep breath and sneaked a look from beneath lowered lashes at her companion.

His brow was pinched in a frown, the dark circles beneath his eyes all too obvious in the fluorescent lighting at the shop front, and the bulk of his coat did little to hide the fact that he was thinner than ever.

"You're studying too hard," she said critically, forgetting for a moment that all was not as it should be between them. It was just too easy to lapse back into the friendship she'd always shared with the dark-haired boy.

"I had this dream," she continued when he just shrugged, "where my books refused to open and kept telling me that I was reading them too much and they were tired." Orihime grabbed her coffee and waved a hand until Ishida reluctantly retrieved his own cup from the cardboard holder.

"Of course the books then turned into large ice-cream cones," she frowned as she took a small sip, "I don't know if it meant I'm studying too hard, eating too much or not enjoying myself enough."

The involuntary laugh, quickly muffled into his coffee, made Orihime smile. Maybe all wasn't lost, after all.

"You can make fun of me," she said haughtily, hiding the way a warm glow had grown inside her and was making her smile.

They'd reached one of the benches scattered below the trees that lined the quad and Orihime sank gratefully down onto the surface.

"Oh my god, my feet are killing me," she muttered, staring at the offending boots that she'd known was a mistake to wear to work. But she was really just delaying the inevitable and the tense set of Ishida's shoulders as he sat down next to her without a word just underlined her own fears.

"Did I do something to upset you?" she asked earnestly, turning and crossing one leg beneath the other across the bench as she fixed all her attention on her companion. Suddenly she just really wanted it all to be over. For Ishida to fix her with that look she'd missed, the one that said he found her incomprehensible but didn't mind, really. She wanted him to answer, in his serious way, that of course he wasn't upset, and that she'd done nothing wrong, and then they could go back to being the way they'd always been. Because truthfully she was missing him; missing real friendship. The kind where someone knew you so well that you could say and do anything without fear of judgement. And maybe she missed Ishida the most out of all her family because he was so close but seemed so far away most of the time.

"No, you didn't do anything," he answered at last, sounding somehow sad and resigned, and frustrated and angry all at the same time.

But he looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time in weeks, with a small smile playing around his lips, and Orihime decided that, for now, she wouldn't focus on the trace emotions he was trying so hard to hide. For now she wouldn't focus on the way he'd answered her question without really answering her question. She could ignore the fact that something was clearly bothering him because she was that desperate to have her friend back. Maybe if she ignored it long enough whatever was eating at him would resolve itself - it probably had nothing to do with her anyway.

Acting was not one of his talents, of that Ishida was fairly sure. But it seemed he'd somehow managed to convince Orihime that everything was fine because she simply launched into a stream of continuous babble, as if this wasn't their first conversation in months. As he'd stared at his books, waiting for the time to pass so he could go meet Orihime he'd made a decision: he wasn't going to be a doormat for her anymore. He would simply tell her that he was very busy so whatever favor she needed would have to wait and hope she'd get the hint.

He'd forgotten the power of those eyes. The way the stormy depths seemed to drag him in until he didn't even mind drowning. She'd fixed an earnest gaze on him and come right out with the dreaded question, and he'd known it was a mistake to look at her. But it had seemed like he owed her that, to look her in the eye, and maybe some perverse part of him wanted to, masochistically, enjoy the last chance to be this close to her, to look at her without impediment.

Her eyes had been silvery in the lamplight, glowing anxiously and he hadn't been able to go through with it. Ishida prided himself on his pride; it sounded stupid but there it was. He hated being this weak but somehow, with Orihime, all vestiges of pride fled out the window and he couldn't bring himself to care.

So she talked and laughed and he nodded at what he deemed were appropriate places, made noises of assent or dissent, while only listening with half an ear. If it made her happy to talk to him over a cup of coffee every once in a while then that wasn't so bad. He could do that.

The coffee was gone but Orihime showed no signs of being done so Ishida cleared his throat. There was only so much he could take in one sitting and he had an early class, besides.

"You wanted my advice?"

"Oh! Yes, I nearly forgot! I know it's a bit early since the dorms' freshman dinners is only starting in another month, but I want to get a head start on my dress and I wondered if you'd take a look at my design? I'm not sure it's exactly … doable. For me, I mean. I'm sure you'd have no problem with it."

Suddenly, inexplicably, she appeared shy and Ishida couldn't fathom what was going through her head because it certainly wouldn't be the first time she'd asked him that question.

"Sure," he shrugged, somehow both relieved and unbelievably pissed off that the big favor only turned out to be something as ridiculous as a dress. To be fair, it was his own fault for having built it up into a big thing, he should have known that Orihime would never impose on anyone in any way.

"Thanks," she opened her mouth only to close it again, "um … that's the first part of the favor. The second part is …. Well, I wondered if maybe, if you weren't busy, maybe you'd go with me to my dinner?" she turned pleading eyes onto his profile which was all she could see since he suddenly refused to look at her. With a sense of dread Orihime wondered if maybe she'd pushed the boundaries of their newly repaired friendship too far by requesting a pity date.

"I'd be more than happy to go with you to yours. If you don't already have someone, of course! I didn't mean that you wouldn't. That's just me!"

Ishida sighed and cut off her rambling, "It's fine. Don't worry about it. And, if that's what you want, then I'll go with you. I doubt I'm going to mine."

How the hell had a cup of coffee with an old friend, that he was planning on writing off, turned into an acceptance of a pity date request?

a/n: Shall we see where this goes? Let me know!