A short little thing that was a very specific request from a friend.

Warnings: Mild language

From his seat at the small kitchen table, Ishida stared at the clock as it struck the time. The chimes on the hellish clock echoed throughout the hollowness in his chest. His dull blue gaze shifted to the glass bottle full of amber liquid. He had bought it on a whim, figuring that was the sort of thing people did at times like these, but somehow he didn't feel like it. Alcohol meant loss of control and loss of cognitive thinking; neither would bring him any comfort.

So, he was now a divorced man. As he had done many times during the past few years, especially in the past year since their marriage had really ended, Ishida reflected on why he had married her in the first place. He thought he may have loved her. In some way. Certainly cared about her. They had started off normally enough. Met in a course at college. Dated for a couple of years and married not long after graduation.

He had married her, he'd realized after a while, because it had simply seemed to be the thing to do. They'd had similar interests, similar paths in life, and his father approved of her. All the ducks were in row.

But as he learned, the ducks may be in a perfect row, but they might not be the right ducks.

Ishida ran a hand through his uncharacteristically mussed hair and dragged a pile of papers filled with sketches towards him. He mindlessly shuffled through the various clothing designs he had drawn. And crinkled them all into tight balls, one by one. Complete trash, every single one of them. He didn't have a single decent idea and it was well past time to begin work on the spring line. His employees were chomping at the bit.

A knock at the door of his apartment startled him. He considered ignoring it for a moment, but when the knock came again, he pushed his burdened body up from the table and shuffled down the hallway to see who it was.

"Hello, Ishida-kun! I hope you don't mind me... dropping in all of a sudden..."

Ishida watched Orihime's smile and voice falter as she took in his wrinkled clothes and messy hair. Things that were much more characteristic of her husband, but he didn't even have the energy to feel ruffled at realizing his current similarities to his punk-ish friendly rival.

"No, I don't mind, Inoue. Come in."

He listened to her chatter as she started doing something with the containers of food she had brought. Updates on their friends barely registered in his mind, and soon steaming food was set before him. He glanced up to thank her and caught her casting a worried look at the full bottle.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to drink anything."

Orihime nodded and smiled, the strain evident on her face as she studied him. He cleared his throat and looked away, jabbing his chopsticks into some vegetable rice concoction. That unnerving ability to look right through him had only been honed as she had aged and matured. Something he did not particularly care for in his long time friend when it was directed at him, especially today.

He heard crinkling paper and looked up to see her flattening one of his balled up designs. She glanced up at him but said nothing, and he was silently grateful she did not try to placate him by telling him that the worst design he had ever created was lovely, no really, it's nice. He chewed without tasting and watched her set the paper aside, not bothering with the others.

"Ichigo mentioned that Renji's captain ceremony is next week. We were hoping that maybe you'd come with us. Urahara-san's making it so that everyone can attend. Sado-kun, Tatsuki-chan, Asano-san, Kojima-san..." She trailed off and he looked up, she was smiling kindly, but with worry-filled eyes. "There are a lot of people at Soul Society that would like to see you again." Ishida resisted the impulse to snort at that. "And Rukia mentioned wanting to talk to you about a new dress for her."

He nodded at her. With the smallest of sighs she told him that she should be going and lightly informed him when they planned on meeting at the underground training grounds. Ishida vaguely acknowledged her and barely remembered to walk her to the door. She turned back once more before she left and gently put her hand on his forearm.

"We all miss you, Ishida-kun. Don't stay away too long." She surprised him with a quick hug and then left. He watched her leave and then blinked when he saw Ichigo standing at the top of the stairs, his hands stuck in his pockets and his expression twisted into a worried scowl as he stared at the floor. Ichigo jumped slightly when Orihime reached him, his face softening, but still worried. Ichigo caught Ishida looking at him and he quickly covered the worry with a cocky smirk and a chin jerk in greeting.

Ishida nodded and retreated back into his apartment, pushing away the revolting feeling of being touched that Ichigo was worried about him.

The next week, Ishida found himself standing next to his friends while Renji went through his captain ceremony. How he got here was beyond his immediate grasp, but at least his friends were looking noticeably relieved. Silently, he cursed at himself for acting like an idiot and worrying them unnecessarily. What was the matter with him? He hadn't even truly loved the woman. But, he supposed, divorce wasn't exactly something people got ecstatic about, no matter how glad they were to get out.

He had failed, though. That much was clear. All the things that he could have done kept going round and round in his head (narrated by the disappointed voice of his father).

He blinked at the sudden rolling in of chatting and movement. The ceremony had ended, apparently, and Renji was slowly making his way over to them through the crush of congratulatory handshakes and shoulder claps.

A blur of words and actions and pressing bodies, a blink, and he was standing in a courtyard with a plate of food in his hand and Rangiku was sticking something in his hand with a wink. "This will wash away your sorrows, Ishida-kun," she was saying. Ishida stared down into the cup of swirling something-or-other. And suddenly he felt suffocated.

He muttered an apologetic excuse and thrust his cup and plate into her stunned hands as he stalked off to find some air.

He wandered all over the complex until he came to a small, open area, free of celebrators and guards. A tree stood off to the side. He approached it and leaned his back against the rough trunk, closing his eyes and breathing in the quiet, spirit particle air. But no sooner had he done that when he was interrupted.

"Quincy-san."

Ishida's eyes slowly fluttered open at the soothing voice that tugged familiarly at him. He found himself gulping once as he looked down into calm, green eyes. "Uh, N-Nemu-san. I... What are you..?" He mentally slapped himself on the forehead, stopping the idiotic question before it left his lips. What is she doing here? This is her world! He glanced at her and her head was cocked slightly to the side, hands politely together in front of her, her eyes patient and inquisitive, waiting for him to finish his sentence. "Uh..." What was wrong with him? This odd girl... she always put him in knots. He never knew quite what to say or expect. "It's been a while."

She furrowed her brow, and Ishida wanted to kick himself. She didn't understand the inane niceties of human society's greetings. He knew that. Finally, she nodded once. "Indeed, it has. Five human years."

He blinked. That long? How time flies. And she remembered? He felt flattered for a millisecond, but then realized that she would naturally remember. Her mind was like a computer. Nothing to do with him. "So... how have you been?"

She slowly blinked. "How... have I been?"

Ishida silently cursed. He was still forgetting. This was the one person he knew who was less socially adept than himself. A question like that made no sense to her. Before he could amend his question, she spoke.

"I have been... worried."

He nearly jolted in surprise. Nemu was worried? She never worried. Things simply were or they were not and she never worried for anything. A feeling something like panic squeezed at his chest. What horrible thing would have Nemu worried? "Nemu-san?" He took a step towards her and she had to tilt her head to look up at him. "What are you worried about? Is there anything I can do?"

"I received the information that your relationship contract has been dissolved."

Ishida blinked. "Wait... my divorce is what has you worried?"

"Yes."

"But... why?"

"I do not wish you to be sad, Quincy-san."

Ishida stared down into the guileless eyes and felt more comfort and feeling from those honest and unexpected words than all of his friends' efforts put together. This girl who was so logical, so seemingly ignorant of human emotion beyond blind loyalty, was worried because she did not want him to be sad.

"Nemu, I... Thank you. But I'm fine."

She frowned. "I do not like lies."

Ishida's mouth worked open and closed. She continued.

"I would like to help ease your sadness. During a recent Shinigami Women's Association meeting, the other females were discussing a practice that brings happiness. I would like to use it to... to give you comfort."

"Oh, well, Nemu that's very kind of you, but you needn't go to the trouble. Really, I'm fi- er, well, I'll be fine. Eventually."

Nemu shook her head slightly. "It is no trouble." She looked him up and down. "But I seem to be unable to quite carry it out. Please, bend closer, Quincy-san."

Ishida blinked rapidly, and tried to figure out what in the world she was going to do as he bent his body towards her. Whisper some words of comfort? A shoulder massage? That would be nice. Or maybe some bizarre stress relieving concoction injected into his neck. That would not be nice. Her face came closer and he froze as realization hit him. No way and oh crap she's doing it and shit her lips are soft, hit him all at once.

Pull away, pull away, pull away, he told himself. But it wasn't happening as she moved closer to get more comfortable and pressed her lips more firmly against his. He was frozen in place as little shots of electricity went from his lips to his toes. His tingling fingers reached for her, but then she did pull away.

Which was for the best, he told himself.

She looked at him, her pupils a little dilated, or maybe it was his imagination. She frowned. "You do not look eased."

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"Maybe I did not do it correctly. I will try again," she said with a resolute nod.

Before he could stop her, she was pressing her lips to his again. His hands seemed more ready for this than he was and they gently grasped her waist, pulling her closer. A soft sigh parted his lips as her lush curves pressed into his body. She parted her lips and put her hands on his waist, and he realized she was copying his movements.

Surely this was not the first time she had... He stopped thinking when her body and mouth shifted. Slowly, he took her plump bottom lip into his mouth.. Encouraged by the responding press of her body, he parted her mouth further to softly explore her, absorbing her honest responsiveness. He smiled into the kiss as her arms wrapped around his neck, no longer concerned with mirroring him.

But then she pulled away, and he nearly gasped at the acute loss of her close warmth. His arms refused to let go of her. Her fingers lifted his glasses off and he blinked her face into focus. She was frowning again. Her face was also flushed and her chest was rising and falling as she studied his eyes.

"I think I must need more practice. The results seem to be the opposite of what the women claimed."

Ishida probably should have had thoughts along the lines of I shouldn't be doing this or I can't take advantage of her ignorance, but he did not. Nor could he stop the words or his body as he pulled her back against his chest, lowering his head as he said, "I'm being eased. Most assuredly. But a little more practice would most likely be quite edifying." He could not even recall what he was supposed to be eased about as he recaptured her lips.

Ishida really never knew quite what to expect from Nemu, and he had no clue where she would take him next. But she had certainly managed to neatly tie him up in knots once again.

"I think I feel his reiatsu over here, Rukia."

"Ah, I do too." Rukia grumped at a rock she practically stubbed her toe on. "What on earth is he doing all the way out here?"

"Well, he probably wanted to- Oh!"

Rukia ran straight into Orihime when she suddenly stopped in front of the entrance to a courtyard. "What are you- Oh!"

They both stared at the couple that were leaned up against the tree for a few moments before quietly retreating.

"I guess I'll ask him about a dress later..."

Orihime nodded, and then looked at her a little sympathetically. "I guess this really means he doesn't have any feelings for you anymore."

Rukia sputtered. "For the last time, Orihime, Ishida never liked me that way!"

Orihime shook her head and tapped her nose. "My intuition is always spot-on."