Well, I don't have much to say about this. My little Ulquihime muse, Rusky-Boz, asked me to write a fic about Orihime having troubles with confessing to Ulquiorra, and thus this little story was spawned. I hope everybody will enjoy it!

Uh... And I own nothing.

He was playing with her hair again.

Orihime tried to look back at Ulquiorra out of the corner of her eye, but it was impossible to see him with her chin propped up on her hand the way it was. It would have been easy to turn and glance at him, but she knew that doing so would result in him immediately becoming motionless. As it was, she felt hesitant enough about even betraying the subtle movements of her breathing.

So she continued to pretend that she was completely focused on the homework scattered across the table in front of her rather than the almost unnoticeable pull upon her hair, the gentle brush of his fingers against her back. She wished desperately that she could see him so that perhaps she could find out if this new habit he had acquired in the last week was something he did consciously or unconsciously; when he was obviously trying to be inconspicuous she couldn't quite bring herself to reveal that she was aware of what he was doing. While the idea of Ulquiorra actually acting upon something he was not conscious of was somewhat difficult to grasp on the one hand, it wasn't entirely unheard of.

Since he had come to the world of the living some months ago – eight months, Orihime realized with a start – she had been paying close attention to things like that. She had been given this chance, this opportunity, to truly show him about all those things she had so loftily proclaimed to him in Las Noches, and she had never once taken that for granted.

So as soon as the uproar over the fact that he had been set up in the empty apartment next to hers had died down, Orihime had made it her mission to have Ulquiorra experience all of the wonders of life. She dragged him all over Karakura, from places (like that park with the ginkgo tree whose limbs had molded together on the one side) to events (like the weekend market at the shrine down the road, where she had made him try pickled daikon. She didn't think that would happen ever again). On a few occasions, she had managed to save up enough of her monthly financial support to take him out of the city, to the beach or the mountains or the amusement park.

And she had noticed, slowly, gradually, that he was changing somehow. He still presented himself as stoic and apathetic, but time had given her the ability to read the small things he gave away. She could catch the minute changes in his nearly frozen expression that would betray the variety of emotions she knew he had to be capable of feeling.

Orihime was aware that it was hard to detect, since none of her friends were convinced on that matter; she was still met with skepticism or blatant complaints about all the time she spent with him. While she wished that they could understand, she was also aware that they couldn't. None of them had heard their conversations while she was locked in that white room, or the questions Ulquiorra had asked about something that would have been so obvious to the rest of them. So even though Kurosaki and Ishida had been there to see that final exchange, they didn't know everything it had been built upon.

Thus, she had simply accepted that there would be a line of tension between her and her nakama on this point, which was fine. If Ulquiorra had changed at all because of her, it was impossible to deny that he had changed her as well. She had come to see herself differently, realizing that she was something other than the useless girl she had always imagined. There were things she could do, things within her power that nobody else could accomplish. Her strengths were not like those of her nakama, but they were strengths nonetheless.

And with that realization, she had also discovered that her love for Kurosaki had disappeared. It was a shock to suddenly be aware that the feelings that had been so strong for so long had ceased to exist, that they had dimmed and cooled slowly over time. It was completely unremarkable; if she had fallen in love, she had distractedly wandered out of it. She had felt somewhat strange at the loss, not from regret of any sort, but merely from the lack of the thing she had carried with her for so long. It was almost like she had been set loose, no longer encumbered by something that had done nothing but weigh her down with doubts.

The new sense of freedom had never wavered; over the following months, she had felt quite free to flit from one experience to another with Ulquiorra. It hadn't been until recently – three weeks ago, she supposed as she drew absent-minded tick marks on her homework – that she had been struck with the sudden realization that she was not quite as free as she had thought. There were no limitations, no doubts, none of the heaviness she had felt before, but her emotions had again found an anchor.

They had been at the park. Orihime had gone over to the little parlor that sold soft-serve and bought them both a cone, happily handing Ulquiorra his as soon as she returned.

"I do not understand why you are so adamant about trying every flavor," he had said dryly when she sat next to him on the bench. "This is the fifth time we have come here this week."

"Well, I decided that I wanted to do it last year, but then I forgot because it was cold by the time I got home. I just remembered, so I thought it would be something fun to do with you."

He closed his eyes, the softest of sighs escaping his lips. "You realize how much money this costs you, don't you?"

"Yes, but it's worth it," she replied, taking a bite of the sweet potato ice cream. She let it melt in her mouth for a moment before smiling. "Oh, Ulquiorra! You should try this one; it's really good! I'll have to see if they can put azuki beans on it next time."

Unceremoniously, she shoved the cone near his face and, in her enthusiasm, effectively smashed it against the right side of his mouth and along his cheek. His expression didn't change, but she caught the exasperation that crept into his eyes as he stared at her.

After a frozen moment, she dropped the cone on the ground and grabbed the napkins resting on her lap. "I'm so sorry!" she squeaked, taking his face in her hands and surveying the damage before wiping away the lavender mess.

It was only in the middle of the process that she realized just how she was touching him. She had, of course, touched him on occasion before, but there had never been anything like that, with one hand cupped against his cheek, his jaw, the other separated from his lips by no more than her napkin. Her progress slowed as her thoughts jammed up in her head, perhaps thrown off by the sudden pounding of her heart.

Ulquiorra's fingers had risen to her wrist, gently wrapping around it. "I am sure my face is clean now, woman." He lowered her arm back to her side, and she had not missed the way his hold lingered for just a moment too long.

He had stood and held his cone out for her, saying something that had been lost to her memory in the sudden flurry of her thoughts. But that had been an important moment. From that point on, she had been keenly aware of his behavior, of things like how he was now playing with her hair. And she had also realized that she might have been in love with him.

It had been a shock, but Orihime had quickly recovered. There were more surprising things in their situation than her growing to love him, considering how closely connected they now were. Indeed, what would truly constitute a surprise would be if he possibly cared for her in the same way.

Which, Orihime thought, would probably be something she should try to discover soon. It would be like ripping off a bandaid. Either way, it would be best to just confess to him as soon as possible and get that out of the way. She didn't want to run the risk of letting her feelings sit like some motionless pool in her heart, to turn into anything even vaguely like what she had felt for Kurosaki.

Of course, it was easy for her to think she should confess, but it was an entirely different matter to actually do so. Even the thought made heat creep up her neck and across her cheeks.

"Your face is red."

The voice at her ear made Orihime go completely still, a shiver running down her spine. She turned her head slightly, staring up into Ulquiorra's face as he leaned over the table toward her. "Blushing, you called it," he continued, his eyes sweeping across her face in a way that made her skin absolutely burn. "Why?"

She met his gaze and felt the words press against her lips. She had just been thinking about it, hadn't she? There was no reason to continue delaying, to put off what she could get done right now.

Her face must have given something of her thoughts away; she could see the slight narrowing of Ulquiorra's eyes as he studied her. Taking a deep breath, Orihime turned so that she was facing him and opened her mouth to speak.

Only to be interrupted by the ringing of her phone.

Instantly, she deflated, all the courage leaving her in a second. As she rummaged through the stacks of books and papers on the table, Ulquiorra gathered the few things he had brought with him and headed toward the door. When she finally grabbed the phone and answered it, she was just in time to catch Ulquiorra's gaze before he pulled the door closed behind him.

Orihime stared at the blank surface for a moment before walking over to her sofa and flopping on it, trying to concentrate on the conversation at hand and not her thoughts from the moment before.

----

"You are angry about something."

Orihime looked up from the soda can she was practically crushing and frowned. "Why would you say that?"

Ulquiorra did not respond, and they both knew that he didn't have to. Her frustration was woven through everything that afternoon, from her speech to her expression. He was doing little more than putting the obvious into words.

While normally she would not expect Ulquiorra to comment on something like that, she could understand why he had done so on this occasion. They were currently sitting beneath one of the trees in the park near her house. That part she had no objection do, as it had been pretty close to the plans she had made herself. The part that she had not anticipated was the fact that all her nakama would be there as well.

They were swarming the open field of the park at the moment, creating a ruckus over something; they had initially said they were going to try to get a soccer game going, but with that group one could hardly be certain what was going on. There had been some calls for her to go play as well, but they had given up easily enough when she had quite steadfastly declined.

Ulquiorra had apparently been the only one to notice her frustration. That fact might have placated her somewhat in any other situation, but she was so exasperated that it did little to help.

And that was because she had been hoping to have the chance to confess to him. After the phone interruption a few days before, she had decided that some time in the park might be more successful since the chances for distractions had been less. Yet it seemed that the universe was bent upon throwing as many roadblocks in her way as possible, because as soon as they had turned a corner around a cluster of trees, right when she had been steeling herself to speak, her name had been called.

So they were now both sitting in the shade of a maple tree. Orihime could feel Ulquiorra's eyes upon her, but she wasn't quite sure enough of herself to speak yet. Everybody was so far away now that she could likely say the things she had planned on, but she didn't want to have the sounds of her friends being the backdrop of that reveal.

Ulquiorra turned, settling back against the tree. "You are angry with them," he finally concluded. "But I do not understand why."

"It doesn't matter," she muttered into the fabric draped over the knees she had pulled up to her chest.

There was a pause then, and she figured that he had agreed. He still had a frequent habit of telling her how superfluous and unnecessarily flamboyant her emotions were, although the accompanying derision had decreased considerably.

"Orihime."

The sound of his voice speaking her name still managed to surprise her, and she turned abruptly to look at him. There was no hope of turning away from the sharp consideration in his eyes, and she swallowed thickly. "Yes?"

"You are too generous. If you are upset with them, you should just tell them so. I do not find it pleasurable to be around you when you are displeased."

From anyone else, the words would have been insulting, but Orihime knew the meaning hidden in purposefully cold diction: Even though they are your friends, you should tell them if they hurt you. I do not like seeing you unhappy.

She let a small smile slip across her lips before nodding slightly. "I'm sorry, Ulquiorra. I guess I can be my usual upbeat self just for you then."

Orihime was glad that he looked ahead again then; she knew she would have blurted out stupid things if she had had to continue looking at how his features had softened with a smug sort of satisfaction.

----

Orihime tapped her chopsticks against the bowl, glaring down at the rice inside. Nothing. There would be nothing in her way this time. It would not be like the third attempt, when her shopping bag broke and dinner had fallen everywhere. Or the fourth attempt during the movie they had been watching in her apartment, when she had fallen asleep halfway through and woken up after he had left. Or the fifth when the waiter had gotten her order wrong and Ulquiorra had been so blatantly direct and, well, rude, about the mix up that she had been too embarrassed to say anything.

Tonight was different. There had been a school trip that weekend, and while her nakama had gone, she had stayed in Karakura. And it had been raining hard all afternoon, so the few other people she knew in the area were unlikely to randomly stop by for a visit. There would be no interruptions from them. She had gotten plenty of sleep the night before, and had put dinner in the fridge after buying it that morning. Surely, everything had been prepared for. Three weeks after she had initially decided to confess, she would finally manage to do so.

"I am surprised that you did not make dinner."

Orihime glanced up from her bowl. "Did you want me to make dinner?" she asked, unable to keep the shock from her voice.

"I did not say that," Ulquiorra quickly countered. "I merely said I was surprised. I could see no occasion for you spending more money on your meal than usual."

"Well, I won't be spending any money on the school trip while everybody else is going out to eat, so I thought we should treat ourselves at least a little!"

The room was silent for a long moment, only the sounds of the rain being driven against the window filling the gap in their conversation. "You have been behaving strangely lately," he eventually said as he took another piece of sushi from the plate in the middle of the table.

"You think so?"

Orihime knew that her attempt at being oblivious would fail miserably, but she didn't give up the act yet. She could stand the weight of Ulquiorra's suspicious gaze for a while; she had worked up a little immunity over their time together.

Dinner went almost exactly as she had hoped it would, although she had forgotten to pick up more wasabi and had thus thought that the dessert was a little bland. Ulquiorra hadn't complained, however; in fact, he had said little more, and she had been fine with that since it had at least meant that he wasn't asking questions.

She stood up and took their dishes into the kitchen, stacking them in the sink. For a moment she stood there, worrying her lip as she tried to anticipate the next few minutes. There had been no hitches so far. It was time.

Clapping her hands once in an attempt to hold onto her determination, Orihime turned quickly from the sink and ran toward the main room.

Right as Ulquiorra entered the kitchen.

She crashed into him, both toppling over from her momentum. A long, still moment passed before she tried to move, propping herself up on her elbows. She looked at Ulquiorra, watching his brows draw downward as he brought a hand up to his jaw. Slowly, he opened his eyes and stared up at her. "Why is your head so hard, woman?" he asked.

That was all it took for the mortification that had been held at bay to burst through her feeble dam. Orihime scurried gracelessly to her feet, stumbling back and knotting her fingers together. "I'm… I'm sorry," she muttered breathlessly, and then promptly ran to her room.

When the door was shut, she leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor. She had failed again. How hopeless was she if she couldn't accomplish something that practically every girl her age had done? With everything she had already managed to do in her life, she couldn't even confess to the guy she liked without some random disaster getting in the way?

Orihime didn't hear him knock or open the door; she only realized that he was there when she felt his hands wrap around the arms she had folded over her knees. She put up no resistance when he pulled them away, but she did nothing to look at him.

"You are crying," he said slowly, the comment bordering on a question.

She didn't speak, almost wishing that he would go away. There was only so much embarrassment she could handle, and she had definitely bypassed her limit.

"I'm not hurt," he eventually tried, a note of uncertainty in his voice, and she almost wondered if he was trying to comfort her. "Why are you in here? Was that not something you would usually find humorous?"

A part of her wanted to reply, find some lame excuse for her behavior, but Orihime didn't trust her voice to not break if she attempted to speak. As it was, she still couldn't lift her head to even look at him.

Until he let go of her arms and instead gently touched her face, drawing it up so that he could see her. The thumb now resting against her cheek swept across her skin, brushing away the one tear that had slipped from her eye. "Tell me why you're like this, Orihime."

That time it was obvious, the concern in his voice. The thinly veiled tenderness. It broke through her silence so that everything came out in a jumbled rush. "I wanted to confess to you!"

His eyes widened slightly – probably more from the fervor of her outburst than anything else – before narrowing. "Confess what?"

"That I like you," she sighed, feeling drained from the rush of emotions that she had gone through. She didn't even have the energy to be properly nervous.

"After everything that has happened, I had already supposed that you did not dislike me," he said, but there was a hesitance to his words that made it obvious that he was not sure if he understood her completely.

Orihime reached up for his hands, gently lacing hers through them. "No, Ulquiorra." She tipped her head slightly, wondering if he would be able to catch what she was trying to say or if she would really have to completely spell it out. "I mean, I like you."

It was slow, but she could see the gradual realization cross his features, followed by what was unmistakably confusion. "Why?" he said simply.

"I don't think I could explain in a way that you'd find reasonable," she said, unable to help but giggle slightly. It quickly disappeared, however. "But I guess this whole thing is pretty silly, anyway. It's not how I wanted it to turn out…"

"I still do not understand why you are upset. Does how you tell me really make any difference?"

"Oh, yes!" She nodded, holding his hands a bit tighter. "It's like a rite of passage to confess to the person you like, and a lot of girls make a big deal about it. It's in shows and movies pretty often; I'm surprised that you really didn't know what I meant."

Ulquiorra didn't respond immediately, and Orihime watched the way his gaze wandered, slowly passing over the features of her face. "I do not spare my attention for the mannerisms and actions of other humans," he said, his voice softer now. "You are the only one who holds my interest."

Orihime's lips parted so that she could speak, but no coherent thoughts would form to allow her to do so.

"Even if it was not what you had planned, you have made your confession. At this point, I imagine I am supposed to give some sort of reply?"

Wordlessly, she nodded.

And wordlessly he moved closer, lowering his head toward hers so that strands of his hair brushed her cheek. She had so far managed to keep her eyes open, but they instantly slid shut when he closed the last distance between them, his lips carefully pressing against hers.

Initially it was chaste, but Orihime was sure that that had more to do with inexperience than any sense of modesty. She did not mind, however, new to this herself and therefore content to revel in the novel sensations, in every small reaction she felt to the tentative movement of his lips. The passing moments made both of them bolder, allowing her to shed her insecurities as his hands gripped her waist, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as he pulled her closer.

Her face burned when Ulquiorra finally leaned back, and the way he looked at her did nothing to help; his eyes were much brighter than she could remember them ever having been before. "I had been curious about that action for a while," he admitted quietly. "I had gotten the impression, however, that it was something that one only did with somebody they felt certain things for."

Orihime nodded slightly, wondering if he was going to keep saying things that would make it impossible for her face to cool down. "Yeah, you're right."

"Then I believe that should have been a clear enough response."

For a moment she was still before laughing and leaning forward, resting her head against his shoulder. "Thank you."

"I do not see how any of this warrants your gratitude," Ulquiorra said dully, and she might have thought he was exasperated with her if his hand had not slid around her back before slipping up into her hair. She instantly noticed that, while his touch was still gentle, he was not so painfully cautious. There was no attempt to make the caress unnoticeable. "I am merely doing what I want."

She smiled into the fabric of his shirt. "That's why I'm grateful."