Written for a tumblr prompt + pairing meme. The prompt was 'pretending to hate each other au'.

Oscar Bait

by hashtagartistlife

They were going to lose their contracts.

Lose their contract, their control, their minds– they were going to lose it all. Fuck it. Rukia didn't care.

"We shouldn't– we shouldn't–" her mouth whispered, even as her fingers threaded through the soft fabric of his jumper and pulled him closer, closer. Ichigo growled softly in response.

"We should," he muttered, before pulling her in for another searing kiss. Rukia felt the warmth of his lips down to her toes. She shuddered in his arms and leaned in closer, searching blindly, searching–

The clatter of a falling broom cut through the fog in their minds, and the two Oscar-award-winning actors jumped apart as if burned. Their eyes met in frantic, panicked communication.

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO BOTHER ME ABOUT THIS!" Rukia suddenly screamed, shoving a sheaf of papers into Ichigo's chest. "LEARN YOUR DAMN LINES BY YOURSELF FOR ALL I CARE, I WON'T BE BOGGED DOWN BY YOUR INCOMPETENCE–"

"Did you go to acting class in a back alleyway of nowhere?!" Ichigo snarled back in response, not missing a beat. "Who the fuck cares if you've learned your lines by rote, if you sound like a damn fucking robot reciting them–"

"I won't have my credentials questioned by the likes of you, oh mighty 'model-turned actor!'" Rukia sneered, just as a hulking figure rounded the corner, broom in hand.

"….. bad time?" Yasutora Sado asked the two feuding figures, who had slumped together tiredly once they recognised their intruder.

"How are we going to DO this for another six months?" Rukia despaired.

Sado shrugged.

Being the most prestigious, in-demand young actor and actress in the known world didn't count for much when the world's most respected director (who also happened to have approximately 75% of Hollywood on his payroll) wanted to negotiate a contract with you. This was a lesson Ichigo and Rukia had learned the hard way three months prior, when Urahara Kisuke had contacted the two of them for the lead roles in his latest project.

Of course, nothing about the contract had seemed hard when they signed it. Rukia was an established actress already, having been in the business since childhood. She had won multiple awards, and had finally snatched the coveted Best Actress Oscar three years prior to the contract at the tender age of 22. Ichigo, on the other hand, was an up-and-comer, a highly successful model who fell into acting and found he had a natural talent for it. His first role as a young single father struggling to put his girl through school had earned him a veritable flood of nominations and a Best Actor Oscar straight off the bat.

They had never met prior to the contract; though, of course, they had heard of the other. So when they encountered a 'you must keep up a believable facade of absolutely hating each other's guts' clause in the contract ('There's nothing like a bit of behind-the-scenes drama to skyrocket sales and interest!' Urahara had said brightly, 'especially when the two leads, who are enemies in the movie, are enemies in real life as well!'), they signed it without a second thought. They were talented actors. They knew next to nothing about each other. They certainly DIDN'T hate each other, but it wouldn't be hard for them to pretend. And they'd do anything to be in a Urahara movie.

The risk they took was calculated, but boy, were they bad at maths.

"What's an insult I haven't used against you yet?" Rukia asked idly, as she flipped through a gossip magazine. Ichigo shrugged and pulled up his laptop.

"We've been through quite a few in the past four months, any more than that and we're going to have to start delving into Shakespearean territory."

Rukia glanced up at him. "Oh? Like what?"

Ichigo performed a quick search. "You putrid maggot-brained malt-worm?"

"…. I like it."

"You putrid maggot-brained malt-worm, have you never studied a day of Shakespeare in your entire life–"

"Leave Shakespeare out of this, lady, it's not his fault you're so shocking at intonation–"

Sado, Uryuu, and Orihime exchanged exasperated looks.

"How much longer?" Orihime mouthed, jerking a thumb in the direction of the fighting.

"Five months," Uryuu mouthed back, and Orihime clapped a hand to her forehead.

They had done an excellent job at keeping the 'pretend to hate each other' clause at first, mostly because they DID dislike each other. Well, sort of. Rukia found Ichigo mildly obnoxious, stubborn to a fault, while Ichigo thought Rukia kind of supercilious and lofty. But they were extremely impressed by the calibre of the other's acting, and before long they had got to talking in their trailers late into the night about blocking scenes, tips on how best to convey emotion, and… other things. Then they started noticing really inconvenient details about each other. For instance, Ichigo found he really liked the high colour that came into Rukia's normally pale face whenever she was screaming profanities at him. Rukia, on the other hand, was mesmerised by the flashing amber fire in his eyes whenever he got riled up, which, thanks to the contract, was often.

Before long, pretending to hate each other had become an exquisite kind of torture.

"Ichi– hmmm, you can't – you have to stop–"

"Who's going to make me?" he murmured against her skin, nuzzling her neck with his nose. Rukia bit back a breathy moan.

"I am, Kurosaki," Uryuu slammed the trailer door open, and once again, the two actors jumped apart guiltily.

"Ishida, fuck oooofffff," Ichigo groaned, but Uryuu just brandished a wad of paper in his face.

"You've only got three more months left of the contract, you can't fuck it up now!" Uryuu said indignantly.

Three months had never seemed longer to Ichigo than just then.

"Horrid, manipulating bitch–"

"Cocksure, arrogant upstart–"

"Kisuke, you sure those two hate each other? Kinda looks like they enjoy it, a bit."

"Ah, Yoruichi, when have you known me to be wrong? Those two loathe each other's guts, trust me on this one."

After all that, their cover was blown with one month left of the contract to go.

Ichigo could have sworn there was no-one around. Rukia had personally made sure that their quick weekend away at one of her brother's many resorts would be completely untraceable. They had even posted guards around the entire perimeter of the property.

Paparazzi, it seemed, always found a way.

Oddly enough, when their ruse was discovered, far from the interest in the movie plummeting, it actually increased tenfold. It seemed the fans, who had followed their every feud with such avid interest, were actually keener to see them kiss and make up than to continue fighting.

Funny how fandom worked that way, really.

"It's lucky, though, that it happened that way, don't you think?" Rukia said to Ichigo on the night of the premiere, as she straightened up his bow tie. "Especially after all Urahara said about generating interest. I thought we were done for."

Ichigo shrugged. "Urahara clearly didn't know jackshit," he said thickly, keenly aware of Rukia's delicate hands on his neck, brushing over his shoulders, down his chest. He caught them in his larger ones and pulled her in closer to him.

"Well, it's freed us from having to continue this charade, so I'm thankful," he said, before planting a kiss on her cheek. Rukia smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Let's go knock this out of the park. Follow me."

"Anywhere," Ichigo replied, and meant it.

"…. hey, Ichigo– you don't think– making it look like we hate each other, publicising our 'enmity', the getaway that no-one knew about except the production crew, those photos of us kissing by the pool, the massive spike in interest just before the movie release– you don't think– maybe– Urahara… planned this?"

"….. motherfucker."