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Modern Romance

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Rukia doesn't so much as wake up as she realizes she's no longer asleep. With a groan, she rubs her eyes and rolls over, flipping her pillow over her head in an attempt to hide from the sun peeking through her window.

Going back to sleep is futile, and she knows it, but her morning routine wouldn't be completed without it.

Blindly, she stretches out to reach for her phone, and feeling the familiar outline of a crack along the back cover, she tugs it towards her. Her face scrunches up in preparation for the overly bright screen, an expression that turns more severe when she discovers that its only half past nine. And it's Sunday.

Not that the day really made a difference.

Her law degree ensured she was kept busy regardless, her study group had met up briefly to divide cases for an upcoming test yesterday before she'd finally been able to escape to actually have a weekend.

Normally, she'd still be out like a light at this hour; unmoving and unresponsive as she required in order to face another hectic week. But alas. While Rangiku was more than happy to drag her out on the monthly bar hop, and Nanao too buried in her own degree to realize how long it even was since they talked outside of tagging each other in memes, Ichigo was an entirely different story.

She groans again.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy his presence, on the contrary, she'd never felt more noticed and cared for in so long she actually had nothing to compare it to.

While her jerk of an ex was more than willing to be attached to her by the hip to a suffocating degree, Ichigo knew where the boundaries were and happily complied with the space she needed.

Once, she'd complained that her study group was more headache than help and had jokingly messaged him to Save me now before I stab them all. Ichigo had actually showed up, but had no intention to stay, only to drop off some flowers because You told me sunflowers looked happy, before kissing her goodbye and reminding her that, "You can't annoy me if you're in jail for mass murder."

And Ichigo had been patient with her while her class prep was going on, and she hadn't spent dedicated time with him in ages, but god, she was just so tired.

And frankly, now that she was awake, hungry too. The thought of having to get up at all though, makes her bones feel heavy likely because she hadn't immediately decided to become one with her couch after her study group like she'd usually do.

Instead, Ichigo had showed up with flowers (after she'd told him last night that she was meeting with her insufferable study group again before their date) before coaxing her to the farmer's market as planned.

They'd relaxed on the grass, listened to live music and stuffed their faces with the variety of food available at the stalls. The day ended late thanks to the perfect weather and the sunset that Ichigo insisted they should see, only on the condition that he carry her the rest of the way back.

Unfortunately, they were detoured by an advertisement for a gallery opening, a photography collection that Ichigo seemed interested in, and Rukia insisted they go.

They'd rerouted to Ichigo's apartment to grab extra layers, since the gallery opening wasn't for an hour yet, before Rukia finally begged off anymore external stimulation and Ichigo was happy to walk her home.

Though, Rukia was the one to insist on Ichigo coming up for a bit, and that "bit" turned into a couple of hours too until they'd both fallen asleep in Rukia's bed watching some movie on her laptop.

He'd woken up at some stage though, had set aside the laptop, and tried to leave, but Rukia couldn't remember him actually leaving so maybe –

At the knock on her door, her groan is louder before vaguely, she hears it open, followed by the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Peeking over the edge of her bed, she spots his bare toes, and sighs, making a face up at him.

"I can't believe you're a morning person."

"Says who," Ichigo snorts, messing up her hair further with one hand and reaching over to help untangle her from her cocoon. "You're a pain in the ass in the morning, I'm doing this purely for selfish purposes."

Rukia doesn't dignify that with an answer, though she perks up when she catches the smell of fresh bread coming from just outside her door.

"You made food?"

"Bought food," he corrects, which makes sense considering he's dressed albeit in the rumpled clothes from yesterday sans his sweater because – yeah, she's still wearing it. "It's in the living room." Which is essentially just a couch, but since Rukia' place is bigger than Ichigo's, that's what he insists on calling it. "Hurry up, the bread was just out of the oven."

Sighing dramatically, Rukia accepts his hands to pull her out of bed, sluggishly hanging off of him like a limpet as he walks them out the room.

"You're so lazy," Ichigo complains.

"I am, but this is who you've chosen to be attached to, you're just gonna have to deal with it," she says, unrepentant before she blinks at the duvet that's in a heap on one end of the couch. "Did you sleep here last night?"

"Well you wouldn't let me go home so -"

"No, I meant here," she points out, throwing him a confused look. "Did I kick you out of the bed or something?"

"No," his face looks decidedly redder, though Rukia can't decide if it's because he's embarrassed or lying to her. "But we're not – we haven't -"

With a dramatic sigh, she forces him to look her and declares, "Ichigo, if I don't want you to do something, trust me, you'll know."

"So, next time -"

"Next time we Netflix and Chill, I will not be opposed to sharing a bed with you."

His cheeks have gone ruddy as he stutters, "We didn't -"

She pats his cheek anyway with a smirk and a hum, perking up even more as she sees the wooden board set up with croissants. "Are those strawberries? And the jam from that farmer's market? Oh my god."

His ears are still pink beneath his mess of orange hair, softened by the scattered sunlight in the room, as he huffs. "You wouldn't shut up about it yesterday, so I just thought -"

She groans again. "You're perfect, why are you perfect?"

Ichigo does that embarrassed-huff thing again. "Yeah, yeah – just, don't knock over breakfast. I left the coffee in the kitchen."

"Uh-uh, wait," Rukia makes grabby hands at him and though he feigns an impatient look, he leans down willingly to plant a kiss on her lips. "Thank you!"

He exhales a smile, still manging to look shy before he heads into the small kitchen to the sound of the snap of her camera app.

"That better be of breakfast and not my ass," he grumbles.

"You think so highly of yourself," she teases, sending off the one picture to the group chat between her, Nanao and Rangiku, while posting the other picture on Instagram.

"Did you sleep in jeans too?" Rukia asks as he settles in beside her on the couch, the denim brushing against her bare leg.

Ichigo studiously avoids looking at her. "No. That's why I slept on the couch."

"Oh Cherie," she cooes, giggling outright as he gets more embarrassed and as a result more awkward which again, she ignores in favour of smacking a kiss against his cheek, and any complaints he'd have feigned are swallowed up by his smile.

They eat in comfortable silence, their positions only changing so that their backs are leaned against the armrests on the opposite ends of the couch, though their legs are tangled over one another's. Across from her, he cradles his coffee, watching her back as she licks the spoon of any reminisces of strawberry jam.

Once she realizes that Ichigo's got a bit of an oral fixation, Rukia feels a smile curl against her mouth, something he only seems to realize once she sets the spoon, and the remains of their breakfast aside.

The air is strangely charged, and for a moment Ichigo seems both paralyzed and enthralled by it, watching with that same intense focus when she crawls over his legs and into his lap.

Resolved to just watching her; his gaze trailing deliberately up her collarbone and throat and the juncture of her jaw with darkening whiskey eyes, any shyness Rukia felt about this was promptly smothered.

Easily, Ichigo tugs her closer so her legs bracket him, just as her fingers echo the same route over his skin as his eyes had taken: collarbone, throat, jaw until she tilts his head to meet her lips and it's different to all the times they've kissed before.

Rukia respected Ichigo's need to go slow and be cautious, but she also knew that she'd been wanting to kiss him like this since she'd seen him.

The bad boy persona may just be all appearances, but in Rangiku's words, Ichigo was a fucking beefcake.

His hands were large and firm against her back, keeping her pressed against his chest, the other sliding tentatively against her (admittedly short) sleep shorts until she scraps her nails against his scalp, and he squeezes her ass in retaliation. Something he seemed to agonize over considering the groan that vibrates past his lips as he pulls away from her mouth, lips brushing against her neck instead until he's mouthing at it.

Her breathing is startled and erratic as her other hand searches for purchase against his shirt, grasping at the bulge of his bicep, feeling it flex beneath her palm as his hand moves from her back to her thigh, feather light and so so warm as he kneads her flesh.

Without his lips against hers, the moans that leave her ricochets until she's gasping, dropping her hips just enough to make contact with the firm length protruding from the cradle of his hips, and then he's hissing between his teeth.

"Fuck, Rukia -!"

Her shortened nails scrap against the heated skin beneath his shirt, the muscles in his shoulders flexing in kind, unsure whether she's doing it to soothe him or egg him on.

Her body seems to make the decision for her, and against him, she moves like a wave while he bears down against her, resolve being whittled away with her every push and pull, murmuring against him incoherently, "Yes, like that, Ichigo -"

"Fuck, fuck, are you…are you sure?"

"If you stop, I'll kill you."

His response is to grab her by her thighs and change their positions, the sudden weight of him so good that she's gasping.

Still clothed and rutting against each other like horny teenagers, he comes a part, even as his hips keep moving against hers, and he asks in a breathless murmur, "Show me?"

Against his thigh, she chases the friction and against her collarbone he watches her move with so much intent that she's stupid with it. It isn't until he takes the initiative to press his hand between her legs, and through the layers of her cumbersome shorts and soaked underwear, and strokes her on every undulation, with his breath hot against her skin, that she follows after.

The room is quiet and soft from their breathing, their combined warmth putting up a formidable fight against the cool morning air.

When he withdraws his hand, it's only to squeeze her hip in tedium to the way he hides his face against her chest.

"I can see why you're a morning person now," she hums.

"Rukia," he groans, decidedly embarrassed even as she laughs against his hair, her hand running soothingly up and down his back.

"What? We didn't even have to take anything off," she teases.

"You'll be the death of me, woman."

Sighing dramatically, "But, oh, what a death!" He sighs back something like affection, a sound he muffles against her lips until he's licking into her mouth, same as her.

Her amusement at the whole thing makes her chest bubble with a laugh that bursts when he teasingly bites the skin of her neck.

"Hey, Rukia?" he murmurs.

"Hmm?"

"Can I date you?"

"I thought you already were?" Rukia teases. "Is the wooing part over already?"

"No," he says, "this just…felt right to do now, unless you want a whole thing." He waves off the last bit as if to visibly encompass the degree of the occasion in a careless way, though not to suggest he'd find the effort of doing so troublesome, more like to downplay that the effort is an effort at all.

"That depends," Rukia decides, and when he rearranges himself on the couch, so his weight isn't all on her, she rests her head on his bicep and peers up at him. "Are you still gonna be ridiculously adorable?" His cheeks stain red once more, and she declares, "I'll take that as a yes."

It isn't until he grimaces that Rukia's smile wavers. "What's wrong?"

Eyes going wide, he shakes his head. "No, nothing – just uh, my clothes are kind of ruined."

Peeking down his body, she could just barely see the slightly darker patch of denim, along with the top button of his jeans that had popped open during their earlier activity, the teeth of his zipper half done to show off the black label of his boxer briefs. She runs her hand over his chest in apology.

"Well…I mean, what are you planning to do today?"

"A shower would be great," Ichigo says belatedly, his nose running down the arch of her cheek. "But other than that, I don't do much on a Sunday."

"What a coincidence, me neither…"

Ichigo huffs out a laugh. "Well, if you don't mind the company, I can come back?"

"Actual Netflix and Chill?"

His expression is hilarious and it's her turn to laugh. "I'm sorry, did I blow your mind?"

Ichigo makes that annoyed grumpy face again, the arm he'd thrown around her waist finding purchase as he digs in, her laughter turning to squeals as she tries to wiggle away from him, though Rukia is thankfully spared the torture for much longer when they're interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Do you want to get that?"

"You're the one that's dressed though," Rukia points out, still out of breath.

With much grumbling when the knocking continues, Ichigo crawls over her, stopping to smack his lips against hers before finally getting up.

"Wait," she called out, laughing, "it's on your shirt too!"

Looking down, dismayed, apparently the only solution to the problem Ichigo could come up with was to strip his shirt off entirely, holding it just so over his front so to hide the wet stain. He looked at her through his lashes. "Better?"

Hair rucked up, jeans slung just low enough to show off his hipbones and shirtless to boot, Rukia could practically hear Rangiku wolf whistle now.

Wiggling her brows, Rukia deemed him acceptable before he had to turn to the door when the knocking still hadn't stopped. For all the annoyance on his face, the definite swagger in his walk only made Rukia giggle, and she thought nothing could stop her good humour until Inoue appeared in the open doorway.

At first, Inoue looks determined, her cell-phone in hand, the screen displaying a picture Rukia's sure is from Ichigo's Instagram. Though, to the orange-haired woman's credit, she looks completely thrown to find Ichigo in the state he's in – clearly debauched and not looking like he gives a shit.

Rukia covers her mouth with a smile.

Crossing his arms, Ichigo gruffly asks, "Can we help you?"

"Uh…Kurosaki-kun, I didn't know you were -" She flushes darkly. "I just – I wanted to talk to Kuchiki-san."

Whatever good mood Ichigo was in, gives way to suspicion. "I wasn't aware you'd have anything to discuss with my girlfriend."

If it was possible, Inoue turns redder, the embarrassment coming off of her in waves. "I…" she swallows hard, glancing between them, clearly reconsidering, until Ichigo speaks again, this time to Rukia, "I can get out of your hair?"

She shrugs. "Sure, I'll tell you later anyway."

He smirks at her wink and makes for the bathroom.

"You don't have clothes here," Rukia reminds in some confusion.

Ichigo shrugs, throwing over his shoulder. "I figured I won't need them later anyway." And if he turns the corner, just out of Inoue's line of sight for Rukia to see him undo his jeans enough that all Rukia sees is his boxer briefs hugging his ass, that's Rukia's business.

When she finally manages to shake her head and return to the task at hand, Inoue is gone and the hallway outside is empty.

As Rukia shuts the door, she absently grabs her phone still on the couch, a recent tag notification from Instagram on the screen.

The picture that she recognizes had been the one that was displayed on Inoue's phone when she'd come in, stares back at her – as the Ichigo and Rukia in the photo grin at each other – the caption reading, the kind of happy she deserves.

"Ichigo," she calls out, and from beneath the spray of water, he shouts back, "What?"

"I really need you not to be a gentleman right now because I'm coming in."

"Wait, what? – Rukia – oh…"

So, that's that, the end! Thanks for reading!