Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Heat Of The Night ❯ La Cocina ( Chapter 5 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer:  Still  not  mine;  no  profit  is  or  ever  will  be  made.  Which  is  a  pity,  on  
behalf  of  both  my  student  loans  and  my  fellow  pervy  band  of  Bleach  fans.  
 
A/N:  I’m  torn  between  feeling  proud  for  getting  this  out  so  fast  and  feeling  
kinda  pervy  for  doing  so.  Hurrah  perversions!  
 
 
WARNING:  Bit  of  food  fetish  ahead,  as  well  as  aggressive,  kitchen-­based  fun  
that  has  little  to  do  with  the  culinary  arts.  I  tried  hard  to  keep  it  from  being  
OOC.  Especially  for  Orihime.  In  any  case,  not  my  fault  if  this  stuff  makes  your  
eyes  bleed.  
 
 
 < br> Tap  tap  tap  tap  tap…  
 
She  stared  intently  at  her  paper,  willing  it  to  fill  up  with  rapturous  color  in  form  of  a  
beauteous  sketch  from  the  pencil  she  thoughtlessly  drummed  against  it.  It  gazed  
balefully  back,  obstinate  in  its  stark  white  countenance  save  for  the  few  eraser  
crumbs  littering  its  surface.  Other  failed  attempts  littered  the  floor  in  various  states  
of  abuse.  Orihime  sighed,  pushing  back  from  her  desk  and  getting  up  in  favor  of  
distracting  herself  with  the  titillation  of  tea.  It’s  no  use…is  this  some  sort  of  kharma  
for  lying  about  Ochi-­Sensei’ s  assignment?. .Artist’s   block…?  Or  am  I  really  that  
oblivious  about  my  true  self…?  Mulling  over  the  warped  sensibilities  of  the  universe,  
she  filled  the  kettle  from  the  sink,  placing  it  back  on  the  stove  before  lighting  up  the  
burner.  As  she  did,  chills  erupted  across  her  flesh,  minutely  warning  her  before  the  
stomach-­â€dropping  sensation  was  fully  induced.    Trying  to  ignore  the  sudden  
detection  of  reiatsu,  as  well  as  what  it  portended,  she  idly  kept  her  back  to  the  room.  
The  kettle  heated,  moments  away  from  boiling  its  contents.  There  was  no  sound,  no  
suggestion  that  he  was  there.  But  she  knew  without  turning,  beyond  a  shadow  of  a  
doubt,  that  he  was.  And  that  he  was  staring.  Taking  a  much-­â€needed Â&nb sp;breath  for  
courage,  she  plastered  a  smile  on  before  peeking  over  her  shoulder.  
 
“Good  afternoon,  Kuchiki  Taicho!  Your  sister  has  asked  after  you.  Have  you  spoken  
with  her  yet?  I’m  about  to  make  some  Jasmine  tea,  if  you  would  like  any…† Her  
cheeks  reddened,  recalling  unbidden  that  had  been  his  previous  choice  from  
before…things  had  gotten  out  of  hand.  She  plowed  on,  trying  to  shake  off  her  
embarrassment.  â&euro ;œSo….um…How  are  you…â€Her  voice  trailed  off,  lost  in  the  silence  he  
awarded  her.  She  felt  slightly  numb,  what  with  Byakuya  gazing  at  her  like  that:  a  
forceful  acuity  that  spoke  volumes  in  place  of  her  empty,  small  words.  
 
 
“T hat  would  be  permissible.  As  to  Rukia…she  is  not  my  concern  for  now.† He  tilted  
his  head,  cobalt  eyes  studying  every  fold  of  fabric  that  lay  against  her  skin.  Or  at  
least  that’s  how  it  felt.  In  any  case,  the  way  he  was  looking  at  her  made  her  feel  
uneasy.  Like  she  was  being  scrutinized  and  found  to  be  lacking  in  some  way.  Chee,  

---

what  must  his  opponents  feel  like?  Trying  to  shrug  it  off  his  attentions,  along  with  the  
over-­â€full  contents  of  her  heavy  mind,  she  pulled  her  favorite  set  from  the  cabinet.  It  
had  been  a  gift  from  her  aunt;  a  ceramic  affair  with  a  matching  set  of  cups,  heavily  
lavished  with  pink  and  red  blossoms  and  flower  petals.  Wordlessly,  she  included  
two  from  the  set,  readying  the  pot  with  some  jasmine  as  she  willed  the  kettle  to  
whistle  its  completion.  
 
“So,  um,  what  brings  you  here?† 
 
 
“Y ou.† The  word  was  spoken  abrasively  against  her  ear,  rich  like  molasses.  The  
abrupt  feel  of  him  standing  practically  against  her  made  her  throw  the  spoon  she  
had  been  holding  from  her  nerveless  fingers.  It  clattered  loudly  against  the  floor;  
with  bated  breath  she  heard  the  rustle  of  clothing  as  he  bent  to  pick  it  up.  
Wordlessly,  he  placed  it  within  the  sink,  now  standing  in  her  peripheral  vision.  She  
laughed,  anxiously  praying  it  didn’t  make  her  sound  as  nervous  as  she  felt.  She  could  
barely  look  at  him.  
 
“W hat?  Um…I  don’t  know  what  you….& acirc;€  He  sighed.  Did  she  detect  a  hint  of  disgust  in  
the  sound?  The  beginning  crackle  of  boiling  water  obscured  the  telltale  noise.  
 
“It  would  be  most  beneficial,  Inoue-­â€san,  if  you  would  turn  and  face  me.† She  felt  a  
fission  of  nerves  at  his  use  of  her  name.  Shoot.  It  was  disgust.  Or  maybe  he’s  just  a  bit  
irked  in  general…?  
 
“Do  I  have  to…?† She  froze,  unable  to  fathom  her  own  lapse  in  judgment  for  letting  
that  just  slip  out.  If  he  wasn’t  irked  before,  he  certainly  is  now…  
  “Yes,† there  was  a  slight  lilt  to  the  resonance  of  his  voice,  like  he  was  fighting  back  a  
smile.  Confused,  she  bravely  gathered  her  strength  of  will  and  turned  to  face  him.  
There  were  no  telltale  signs…but  he  didn’t  look  particularly  angry.  In  fact,  he  looked  
as  apathetic  as  he  usually  did.  Probably  imagined  it.  
 
“Was  there  something  that  you  wanted  to  disgust. ?  Ack,  I  mean  ‘discuss!â€&tr ade;  Discuss?† 
She  covered  her  face,  cheeks  flaming  at  the  Freudian  slip.  “Whatâ€&brvba r;did  you  want  to  
talk  about…?â€She  mumbl ed  through  her  fingers.  Another  sigh.  Definitely  no  
annoyance  there.  In  fact,  she  would  hazard  a  guess  that  he  was  striving  to  be  patient,  
based  on  his  demeanor.  It  made  her  cautiously  hopeful.  Even  if  remnants  of  her  
pride  still  wanted  to  curdle  up  and  die  from  embarrassment.  
 
â&eur o;œI  went  to  great  lengths  to  further…understand   this….my  condition,â&eu ro;  there  was  a  
hesitancy,  as  if  he  were  choosing  his  words  carefully;  like  coaxing  a  spooked  horse.  
Or  a  recently  jaded  girl—woman.   ;I’m  a  woman  now…I  guess.     
 

---

“Your Â&n bsp;‘condition’…? † Orihime  frowned,  comprehension  fully  dawning.  “Are  
you…inferring  you  haven’t  been  cured?…Butâ€& brvbar;but  I  would  have  thought…Unohana  
Taicho—“  He  cut  her  off  smoothly.  
 
“Has  limited  resources  or  knowledge  pertaining  to  this…particular  compound.&aci rc;€  Her  
brows  knit  in  concern,  unbothered  by  the  rising  wheeze  of  the  kettle  as  it  
announced  its  achievement.  
 
†œAre  you  okay?  Are  you  in  pain…?â€She &Ac irc; reached  out,  fingers  lingering  softly  in  the  
humid  kitchen,  but  awoke  from  her  unbidden  trance  at  the  kettle’s  growing  shriek.  
She  hurriedly  prepared  the  tea,  trying  to  ignore  the  fact  that  she  had  reached  out  to  
him…possibly  offended  him.  Well,  perhaps  not  the  latter,  considering  what  else  they  
had  done…There  had  certainly  been  more  touching,  then.  Her  cheeks  blushed  afresh  
as  she  wordlessly  handed  him  a  cup  of  steaming  jasmine.  He  blew  on  it  gently,  
silently  brooding  over  the  cups  contents.  
 
“I  am  not  suffering,  noâ€&brvba r;† his  eyes  traced  her  own,  as  if  searching  for  something.  She  
dropped  eye  contact  first,  hating  how  vulnerable  he  made  her  feel.  “The  symptoms  
will  recur,† he  stated  bluntly,  “Of  that  much  Unohana  Taicho  was  certain.† Orihime  
felt  her  eyes  bug  out.  Hastily  she  put  down  her  tea,  afraid  she  might  drop  it  in  her  
shock  and  burn  herself.  Immediately,  she  hurried  to  the  cabinet  where  she  kept  her  
peanut  butter.  She  needed  sustenance  in  form  of  comfort  food,  pronto.  Finding  the  
jar,  she  set  about  twisting  open  the  lid,  jamming  in  her  finger  before  asking  what  
needed  to  be  said.  
 
“ W—why  are  you  telling  me  this?† She  dove  in  for  a  second  taste.  And  another.  And  
another.  She  noticed  the  way  he  was  eyeing  her  as  he  set  aside  his  own  tea.  There  
was  no  doubt  about  it.  He  was  thoroughly  repulsed  by  her  behavior.  Well,  so  what!  
She  was  a  stress  eater!  Screw  him.  You  already  did  that…her   ;subconscious  naughtily  
replied.  Oh  shut  up!  
 
“I  thought  that,  perhaps—â€&oe lig;  This  time  she  cut  him  off,  waving  her  peanut  buttery  
digits  at  him  in  accusation.  
 
“Why  are  you  telling  ME  this?  Are  you  implying  that  thereâ€&tra de;s…there’s  going  to  be  a  
repeat  of  this…†  she  gesticulated  wildly,  trying  to  convey  with  the  simple  motion  to  
infer  what  it  was  they  had  done,  “whatever  this  is?  Was?† 
 
“I  can’t  control  when  they  will  transpire,† he  snapped  back,  the  vestige  of  anger  and  
frustration  in  his  tone.  
 
“ I’m  still  sore  from  the  last  time!† she  wailed,  flailing.  “And  then  I  had  that  horrible  
experience  where  your  sister  walked  in  on  me  and  practically  put  the  pieces  
together,  and  then  I  had  to  face  Kurosaki-­â€kunâ €”† 
 

---

â €œYou  told  the  boy?!† he  was  definitely  angry  now.  His  rising  tone  was  evident.  But  
Orihime  was  in  too  much  of  a  panic  to  fully  appreciate  that  fact.  
 
“â€&brvba r;And  I  had  to  go  to  that  clinic,  and  I  had  to  take  that  pill,† she  let  out  a  hiccup,  tears  
threatening  as  they  burned  at  the  back  of  her  eyes  and  throat.  She  then  rapidly  
espied  the  infuriating  countenance  of  the  man  before  her,  and  she  quailed  as  he  took  
a  step  toward  her.    Her  heart  filled  with  dread.    
 
“My  only  objective,† his  intonation  was  deadly  calm,  belying  the  rage  just  beneath  
the  surface  of  his  words,  “was  to  enlighten  you  out  of  concern  for  how  you  may  feel  
in  regards  to  the  matter.  Since  you  failed  in  my  treatment  before,  and  were  insistent  
that  I  seek  help  thereafter,  I  only  sought  to  alleviate  your  childish,  incongruous  
sense  of  accountability  in  the  affair.† He  tread  closer,  backing  her  against  the  
counter,  cutting  off  any  possible  retreat.  “  This  has  NOTHING  to  do  with  you,  little  
girl.  I  merely  extended  the  courtesy  of  informing  you  on  the  subject,  as  you  were  
initially  involved,  and  have  an  insufferable,  perpetuating  habit  of—†     
 
“Donâ€&tr ade;t  call  me  that!† Right,  that  sounded  mature  and  convincing.  Way  to  go,  Inoue.  
 
“Then  refrain  from  acting  like  one,† he  snatched  her  hand  then,  glaring  meticulously  
at  the  sandwich-­â€spread &Aci rc; that  was  innocently  dappled  across  her  skin.  “  And  desist  
from  coating  your  hands  in  this—&ac irc;€œ  he  never  got  to  finish  that  sentence.  She  had  been  
pushed  too  far—stretched  too  thin  from  stress  and  anxiety.  She  felt  out  of  sorts,  and  
out  of  control.  Her  own  temper  flaring  hot,  she  peevishly  dipped  her  other  hand  into  
the  container  and  immediately  smeared  it  rudely  against  his  cheek.  He  stopped  
speaking,  stunned  at  the  action.    
 
She  felt  gratified  for  a  moment,  delighting  in  the  speechless  look  on  his  face  brought  
on  by  the  impetuous  deed…at  least  until  her  conscious  caught  up  with  her  brain.  
What  did  I  just—I  didn&aci rc;€™t  mean…This  i sn’t  happening…this &Ac irc; can’t  be  happening…It  
repeated  like  a  mantra  inside  her  head,  wishing  the  repetition  would  make  it  true.  
His  eyes  had  darkened,  narrowed  in  what  she  took  to  be  rage.  Orihime  squeezed  her  
eyes  shut,  hunching  in  on  herself.  
 
“Iâ€&rdqu o;I’m  sorry!  I  didn’t…I  mean…† 
&Aci rc; 
“Get.  Rid.  Of.  It.† Each  word  was  ground  out  with  deadly  precision.  His  voice  had  a  
rough  timbre  of  raw  fury…and  perhaps  something  else.  Small  traces  of  fear  took  
hold  of  her,  whispering  across  her  skin…but,  su rprisingly,  her  own  spark  of  anger  
had  not  yet  been  completely  extinguished.  It  burned  quietly  in  her  chest,  awaiting  to  
be  fanned  into  a  blaze.  Or  else  smothered  entirely.  It  could  go  either  way.    
 
 
 Holding  the  ember  inside  of  her  close,  desperately  clinging  to  it  in  the  hopes  of  it  
inspiring  some  sort  of  strength…she  leaned  up  on  her  toes  and  brushed  her  tongue  
against  his  cheek.  She  expected  him  to  let  go  of  her.  Violently  push  her  away.  

---

Another  part  of  her  knew  very  well  what  the  impulsive  action  could  inspire.  The  
board  had  been  set.  The  pieces  were  now  moving.  She  was  walking  on  a  razors  edge,  
and  a  secret  part  of  her,  buried  deep,  relished  her  instigation  of  the  game.  Her  
stomach  knotted;  a  whirlwind  of  emotions  bubbling  to  the  surface,  growing  hotter  
as  the  un-­â€drunk  tea  lay  abandoned  on  the  linoleum,  growing  colder  with  each  
passing  second.  
 
He  did  nothing.  
 
 
His  breath  quickened,  deepening  to  a  rasp.  But  he  didn’t  move.  Didn’t  release  her.  
Throwing  caution  to  the  wind,  she  did  it  again.  But  this  time,  the  touch  was  more  
lingering,  wetly  tracing  toward  his  chiseled  jaw.    No  response.  Gaining  confidence,  
she  repeated  the  motion,  licking  him  clean.  Still  nothing.  Except,  perhaps,  that  his  
eyes  had  closed.  His  lips  were  parted,  breathing  heavily  against  her  own.  Hesitantly  
at  first,  she  nibbled  softly  at  his  features,  swiftly  moving  to  his  neck  as  he  made  no  
move  to  discourage  her  actions.   For  the  second  time  that  night,  she  abandoned  
herself  to  chance.  For  the  second  time  that  night,  she  acted  thoughtlessly.  And  this  
time  she  embraced  it  willingly.  She  thrust  her  fingers  into  the  jar  once  more,  
sweeping  them  across  his  neck.  He  reacted  then:  stumbling  gracelessly  back  a  pace  
even  as  he  reclined  his  head.  His  body’s  reactions  spoke  volumes.  She  accepted  the  
invitation.  She  did  it  again,  spreading  it  even  thicker.  Then  she  switched  her  
attentions,  eyeing  the  peanut  butter  that  had  extended  from  her  still-­â&e uro;captured  hand  
within  his  own.    
 
She  licked  him  delicately,  studying  his  every  subtle  reaction.  His  eyes  were  pressed  
shut,  eyebrows  knit  as  if  in  pain  or  frustration.  She  was  surprised  to  find  that  she  
didn’t  really  care.  If  she  were  honest  with  herself,  she  had  been  craving  this.  He  had  
inadvertently  given  her  a  taste.  She  rubbed  more  onto  the  appendage,  vigorously  
sucking  it  clean  until  he  was  inspired  to  retract  his  grip.  She  rewarded  him  by  
popping  one  of  his  fingers  into  her  mouth,  disconcerting  him  with  her  newfound  
aggression.  She  studied  him,  reveling  in  the  strangely  erotic  assault  of  her  own  
making.  What  was  wrong  with  her?  But  a  part  of  her  knew.  No  one  looked  at  her  that  
way.  Not  the  way  Byakuya  Kuchiki  was  looking  at  her  now.  He  made  her  
feel…desirable…Wa nted.  A  yearning  had  been  building  up  for  some  time;  a  
tumultuous  ache  kept  in  the  corner  of  her  mind.  She  was  tired  of  being  rescued.  
Tired  of  always  being  someone’s  pawn.  But  for  once…maybe  just  for  right  now…she  
could  be  the  one  in  control.  She  was  taking  control  of  him.  She  doubled  her  efforts,  
unwilling  to  dwell  on  those  thoughts.  She  didn’t  want  to  think.  She  just  wanted  to  
feel.  And  at  the  moment,  he  seemed  to  want  to  do  the  same.  
 
 
 
&Ac irc; 
 
 

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“Orihime-­â€chan !  What’s  up?† 
 
“Tatsuki-­ ;â€chan!  How  are  you?† 
 
â& euro;œI’m  good,† she  offered  a  grin,  “can  I  come  in?  I  brought  you  some  of  my  mom’s  miso  
and  leek  stew.† 
 
â €œOh,  yes!  Of  course!  Please  do!† she  chirped  graciously.  “Wow,  miso  and  leek  stew!  
Thanks,  Tatsuki-­â€cha n.† Tatsuki  nodded  in  answer.  She  wrinkled  her  nose,  
immediately  tipping  Orihime  off.  It  was  an  unconscious  habit  on  her  oldest  friend’s  
part;  one  she  affected  when  thinking  distractedly  about  something.  Like  when  she  
perceived  that  there  was  something  amiss.  “Whatâ€&trad e;s  going  on?  Anything  new?† Darn  
right.  The  unicorns  are  going  to  stop  following  me  home.  
 
â€&oe lig;Ah,  no…not  reallyâ€&br vbar;no…Oh!  Did  you  finish  Ochi-­â€Senseiâ ;€™s  assignment?† She  
attempted  to  divert  her  attention,  knowing  from  experience  that  if  she  garnered  her  
best  friend’s  complete  focus  then  she  would  fail  to  detect…whatever  she  might  
happen  to  notice.  Those  stray  buttons  from  her  poor  blouse  on  the  carpet,  for  
instance…  She  gave  Orihime  an  impish  smile,  unaware  that  her  friend  sought  only  to  
retain  her  interest  for  selfish  reasons.  She  squelched  the  guilt  down,  tuning  in  to  
hear  what  she  had  to  say.  She  doesn’t  need  to  know.  No  one  does.  It…it  isn’ t  their  
business.  The  faint  memory  of  choking  down  a  pill,  and  how  curiously  numb  she  had  
felt  at  the  time,  was  pushed  away.  
 
“ Having  a  bit  of  trouble  with  yours,  Orihime-­&aci rc;€chan?† Orihime  laughed  depreciatively,  
“Yes,  well…you  know  me…no  robots  this  time!  Although…† 
 
“No.† Tatsuki  cut  in  immediately.  
 
†œBut  if  I  just.† 
 
“No.† she  repeated  emphatically.  She  broke  out  into  a  smile  once  again,  the  
seriousness  gone  from  her  eyes  as  she  dug  in  playully.  “Ochi-­&a circ;€Sensei  might  blow  a  
gasket  if  you  did.† 
 
“Aw,  Ta tsuki-­â€chan,  you  know  that’s  not  true.  She  didn’t  seem  to  mind  the  ‘future  me&ac irc;€™  
assignment.  She  even  said  it  was  creative!† Tatsuki  rolled  her  eyes,  hopping  up  onto  
the  counter  as  Orihime  lit  the  stove  and  set  about  re-­â€heating  her  free  meal  in  a  clean  
pot,  replete  with  a  wooden  spoon.  
 
“She  was  only  being  polite  and  you  know  it.† 
 
â&e uro;œI  disagree,† she  sniffed,  pretending  to  be  affronted  at  the  remark.  “What  do  you  
think  Kurosaki-­â€kun  drew  for  his?† Tatsuki’s  eyes  became  shadowed,  and  she  studied  
Orihime,  who  avoided  meeting  her  gaze  resolutely.  Instead,  she  focused  on  stirring  

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her  dinner.  It  had  a  pleasant  smell  that  was  making  her  mouth  water,  even  if  it  
seemed  kind  of  boring.  Not  that  she  would  ever  admit  that  to  Tatsuki.  There’s  a  lot  
you  wouldn’t  admit  to  Tatsuki…  
Â&nbs p;
“Does  it  really  matter?† her  friend  deadpanned,  startling  Orihime  from  her  thoughts.  
For  a  horrifying  minute,  she  thought  Tatsuki  had  read  her  thoughts.  Then  she  
realized  her  friend  had  been  referring  to  their  classmate,  and  her  once-­â&eur o;upon-­â€a-­â€time Â&nbs p;
crush…That  explained  the  somewhat  pitying  gaze  being  leveled  her  way.  She  
shrugged,  relief  lending  her  the  ability  to  overlook  her  annoyance  with  Tatsuki’s  
reaction.    
 
“Just  curious,  is  all.  I’ll  bet  anything  it  has  something  to  do  with  spooks!† She  was  
awarded  a  blank  look.  
 
“ Spooks…?† 
  “You  know!† Orihime  waved  her  spoon  emphatically,  “Spooks!  Ghosts  and  spirits!† 
She  made  spooky  noises,  whooshing  about  the  kitchen  as  she  did,  before  resuming  
watch  over  her  stew.  “He  says  he  sees  ‘em…s o  his  picture  will  probably  reflect  on  
that  somehow!† She  frowned,  mulling  over  her  phrasing.  “You  do n’t  think  that’s  
offensive,  do  you?† Tatsuki  scratched  her  head.  
 
“â€&brvba r;That  he  would  somehow  mention  ghosts…?† Orihime  shook  her  head,  ginger  hair  
flying.  
 
“No!  I  mean,  you  don’t  think  I’m  being  rude  by  calling  spirits  ‘spooks,â€& trade;  right?  I  mean,  
I  don’t  think  its  offensive,  but  you  never  know!  Like  when  Columbus  first  landed  in  
the  Americas,  and  he  called  the  native  aborigines  â€&tild e;Indians’  because  he  thought  he  
had  found  passage  to  India…maybe  they  might  have  found  it  offensive!  Or  they  
would  have…I’m  n ot  sure  they  really  understood  with  the  whole  language  barrier…â&euro ;  
She  trailed  off,  catching  her  friend’s  indulgent  look.  
 
“If  you  get  any  sweeter,  Orihime-­â€chan, & Acirc; you’re  going  to  give  people  cavities.† 
 
“But  I  wasn’t  being  sweet,† she  wailed,  “I  was  being  serious!  What  if  spirits  really  
don’t  like  being  called  that…Like  Indians  might  not  like  being  called  Indians  because  
they’re  not  really  from  India.† 
 
â ;€œI  don’t  really  think  it  matters,† Tatsuki  replied  wryly,  slipping  down  from  her  perch,  
“I  mean,  they’re  dead.  What’s  there  to  get  offended  about?  Any  way…â€She &Aci rc; trailed  off  
as  she  spotted  something  on  the  floor.  Orihime  didn’t  notice  at  first,  turning  off  the  
stove  as  she  sought  out  a  bowl  from  the  cupboard.  
 
“Whatâ€&t rade;s  this?† Orhime  froze,  dread  lining  the  inside  of  her  belly.  A  thousand  
possibilities  flew  through  her  mind.  The  receipt  from  the  clinic…her  torn  blouse…She  

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looked  up,  expecting  the  worst…only  to  be  faced  with  an  innocent,  shiny  button  in  
Tatsuki’s  hand.  
 
“Oh!† She  chirped,  picking  it  up  and  dropping  it  onto  the  counter,  “I&a circ;€™ve  been  looking  
for  that!  Had  a  bit  of  a  wardrobe  malfunction,† she  tittered  nervously,  “good  thing  it  
happened  before  I  left  the  house  the  other  day!† 
 
“Iâ€&trad e;ll  say,† Tatsuki  muttered,  â€&oeli g;So…how  did  that  experiment  with  the  hummus  turn  out  
the  other  night…?†&A circ; Orihime  grinned  before  deigning  to  answer.  But  the  smile  didn’t  
quite  reach  her  cinnamon  eyes.  
 
 
 
&Ac irc; 
 
 
A/N:  Apologies  for  it  being  so  darn  short.  I  couldn’t  help  it.  If  it’s  any  
consolation,  I  have  plans  to  further  detail  the  kitchen  scene  via  graphic  
flashbacks.  Also  happened  upon  a  fun  idea  for  a  cliffhanger  in  chapter  six.  Who  
knew  this  would  turn  into  the  one-­shot  that  just  wouldn’t  die?  I’m  loving  it!    
 
Please  review!!  Suggestions,  comments,  and  critiques  are  always  welcome!  
Thank  you  for  reading!  
 
 
 

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