Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Odalisque ❯ Chapter 6 ( Chapter 6 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.

 

 

 

Odalisque

 

Chapter 6

 

Rukia paced inside of her own office. Her office. Her office alone. No one else. Her feet had already worn a groove into the floor and her toes were more than likely speckled with blisters. Momo was leaning on the desk near her, watching her speculatively. Her eyes were wary and somewhat guarded, as though she half-expected Rukia's head to explode at any second.

 

“He was late Momo,” she snarled for the fourteenth time, “He showed up at ten after ten. How can I work with a man who doesn't even respect his company enough to show up for work on time?”

 

Momo remained silent and for that Rukia was grateful. She needed to vent, she didn't need to actually listen to anything resembling advice.

 

“He insulted me, he didn't listen to me, he messed up his entire office before I got there, he has a creepy floor secretary, and his hair is completely unprofessional. It always looks like a disaster zone!” She stopped pacing for a minute to viciously kick at the leg of her desk. Momo jumped when she heard Rukia's foot connect with the metal and her eyes watched her with much more caution than they did before.

 

“And what I really can't understand,” Rukia continued, still seething, “Is how he can make me angrier than I have ever been in my entire life!” She whirled around to Momo and the woman jumped softly, Rukia ignored her and kept venting, “How can he do that Momo? I've known the guy for maybe two days… maybe. You know me, I've been taught—no, I've been trained—to keep a cool head. I was raised by Byakuya. But this guy… he just worms his way past all of that and starts… oh, I don't know… insulting me.” She growled and kicked the desk again. “I hate him.”

 

Momo was silent as Rukia continued to pace. The woman's eyes were gazing at her friend with something akin to speculation and even a bit of amusement.

 

Rukia didn't want to look into those calculating eyes so she turned away and kept moving. Her ridged body line sailed back and forth against in the office but Momo's eyes followed her.

 

“So what you're saying is…” she started slowly, “That he acts basically… like you act?”

 

Rukia twirled around and sent a chilling death glare to Momo, the woman brushed it off like it was nothing and tilted her head to the side, awaiting her answer.

 

“I do not act like that.” Rukia said stiffly.

 

Momo snorted, “Yes you do.”

 

“I do not.”

 

“You do too.”

 

“I do not!”

 

“Liar, liar, pants on—”

 

Rukia threw her hands into the air and let out a shrill scream. She pointed an accusing finger at Momo and jabbed it into the air. “Now you're acting like him, all childish and rude.”

 

Momo giggled and flipped her hair behind her. “I do not act childish. I act like I enjoy my life, which is much more than I can say for you.”

 

“I enjoy my life,” Rukia muttered sullenly. She crossed her arms over her chest and sulked to the other side of the room.

 

“Like hell you do.”

 

Rukia clenched her jaw and rolled her eyes to the top of her head. “Momo, I swear to God, if you go into another rant about cats and vibrators I will strangle you without a second thought.”

 

Momo only smiled and sighed. “Yeah right. Just think about this… Rukia, how do you act around clients?”

 

“Like I'm the boss.” She responded acidly.

 

Momo hopped off of the desk and walked up to Rukia. She stepped in front of the tiny woman and placed her hands on her shoulders. Rukia turned her head to the side so as not to look into her eyes but didn't move out of the way. She was acting like a petulant child but she didn't care at the moment. She was too aggravated for that.

 

“Rukia,” Momo said, she was talking slowly, enunciating carefully so Rukia wouldn't miss a word. “You act like an ass.”

 

Her head snapped up to Momo's and an angry tirade pressed against the seam of her lips. She stopped short, however, when Momo took the initiative and continued speaking.

 

“You go for what you want and you ignore everyone else in the process. You charge into a room and act like you're the second coming. You're ruthless and you're rude and you don't take anyone else's problems into consideration—”

 

“Yes I—”

 

Momo cut her off with a sharp click of her teeth and narrowed her eyes. “Do you remember, two months ago when Toshiro and I got into that huge fight?”

 

Rukia's dark mood slinked further into its black hole and she nodded sullenly.

 

“You and I talked all night. I cried most of the time and when I asked you if I could stay home from work the next day you told me…” Momo cleared her throat and rearranged her pitch so she would sound similar to Rukia. “`Of course not Momo, we have work to do.'”

 

Rukia turned her head away guiltily.

 

Momo shook her shoulder lightly and continued, “I was a wreck Rukia and you still insisted that I come into work.”

 

She mumbled a few incoherent syllables and looked away again.

 

“You're just like this Ichigo Kurosaki person,” Momo reasoned gently and patted Rukia's cheek with her hand, “Except you have a vagina.”

 

Rukia swatted her hand away but couldn't help the smile that slipped onto her lips. “You're ridiculous.” She muttered.

 

Momo sauntered lightly away and offered Rukia a freshly brewed cup of coffee. “Hon, you just have to learn to ignore him the way he's ignoring you.”

 

“Kind or hard to do with his hair being the color it is,” Rukia muttered nastily. “You could find the guy in the middle of a tsunami.”

 

“Either way, you need to have some sort of tuning mechanism.” She paused for a moment and methodically tapped her finger to her chin. “Like… when he talks to you… start repeating the constitution in your head… or find a nice memory you can refer to. Think back to sunny days on beaches or maybe you could replay a favorite movie scene in your head. Maybe you could think about your favorite song or—”

 

“Alright, alright,” Rukia said, putting her hands into the air and sighing, “I think I can do that. It sounds easy enough.” She paused for a moment and let a smile slide over her face, “Or I can just imagine chopping his head off with a chainsaw.”

 

“Yes,” Momo nodded, “Because that will make you hate him only a little bit less.” She rolled her eyes as Rukia pondered and returned to pacing the room.

 

“I guess I could work on that.” She mumbled in agitation.

 

“Good,” Momo answered and a toothy grin appeared on her face, “So are you going back to that office today?”

 

“Probably not,” she answered moodily. “I'm going to finish a few things here that I didn't finish yesterday and then,” she paused and heaved a large sigh, “I'll go back tomorrow.”

 

“Bravo,” Momo squealed and leaped over to where Rukia was standing. “But since you're not going back until tomorrow do you want to go out tonight?”

 

Rukia's eyes narrowed dangerously, “By `going out' what do you mean, exactly?”

 

Rolled eyes, exasperated sighs, and a shaking head accompanied Momo's reply, “See, why do you have to ruin the surprise?”

 

“Because the surprise probably would have been you dragging me to some raunchy club.”

 

Momo pouted. “True… but at least you would have been surprised.”

 

“You know my designated areas,” Rukia said, “Movies, the park, restaurants, and the occasional bar.”

 

“I hate you.” Momo scoffed, “You suck the fun out of life.”

 

Rukia knew that Momo's statement wasn't meant to be mean, sarcastic maybe, but never mean. But the comment still stung. Rukia looked away and tried to focus her eyes on something other than her friend, who was still busily bouncing around the office.

 

She didn't mean to be such a killjoy, she just… was. It was how she was raised and it was how she lived. She had tried, in the past, to go out with Momo and try to `live it up.' But it never worked. She was just too out-of-place to ever feel comfortable. So maybe she did suck the life out of things… she didn't try to, but she did.

 

Like leeches, she mused, they need to suck blood to survive… just like I suck life to… oh, that's not a very good analogy.

 

With the realization that she just compared herself to a leech, Rukia turned to Momo and smiled, “Movies, tonight?”

 

“Can I bring Toshiro?” Was the immediate question.

 

“I don't see why not.” Rukia muttered, “Just so long as you keep your hands to yourself. You know how I like to watch my movies in peace.”

 

“You could always sit between us.” She suggested innocently.

 

Rukia pretended to gag on her sip of coffee. “Please, last time I did that you still managed to grope each other.”

 

“Whatever.” Momo answered childishly. “We'll swing by your place at seven. I'll make sure to choose a movie that's not to squishy, not too serious, and not to violent.”

 

“Alright,” Rukia sighed. She rubbed her fingers against her temples and realized that she hadn't thought about the orange-headed ass for nearly twenty minutes. She picked up her coffee cup and moved it to her desk. She wasn't exactly sure what she was going to do today. She had finished all of her files yesterday and all of her other cases had been handed off to the company's lower-level minions. She bit her lip thoughtfully and stared at her computer screen. Maybe she could just play free cell all day. If Ukitake came by and saw her then she would just make up some bullshit story about needing certain files finished in order to work over at Suigetsu Inc. for a while.

 

Rukia stared at her computer screen for a moment before sighing heavily, sitting in her chair, and pulling up the website for the dating service.

 

She might as well finish the damn thing.

 

*~*~*

 

Rukia ended up sitting seven rows down from Momo and Toshiro, who weren't even able to keep their hands off of one another through the previews.

 

The movie wasn't all that bad. There was some blood, some screaming, some romance, and some drama. Rukia made it a rule not to ever watch a movie that had too much of any of those elements; she didn't know why, but if a movie had too much of any of those it annoyed her. She liked even, balanced, movies.

 

So she sat, in a pair of dark jeans and a light blue turtleneck, with a small bag of popcorn on her lap and a diet soda in the cup holder, watching a nicely balanced movie while Momo and her boyfriend tried to smother their raucous laughter seven rows back.

 

When it was over, she and her friends met up outside, said their goodbyes, and went their separate ways. Rukia tried hard not to notice how Momo's cheeks blushed happily when Toshiro hugged her around the middle, or how his normally cool face broke into a warm grin when Momo kissed him on the cheek, or how their hands were linked by their fingers on the way out of the theater. Rukia simply stood and watched them go. People passed by her but she kept her eyes on her friends until they turned, waved, and crept around a corner and out of her line of vision.

 

Rukia swallowed and turned herself. Her chic apartment building was only a couple of blocks away so she really didn't need to take the metro.

 

The night was dark and relatively cool, considering it was late spring, so Rukia tucked her arms in close to her body. She craned her neck upwards and was just able to make out a couple of constellations through the gleaming streetlights. For a fleeting moment she wished she could be in the park right now, in a dark grove, lying on the grass, watching the stars…

 

She shook the thought from her head immediately. There would be a time and a place for such thoughts… preferably when she was older and retired, but definitely not now. Certainly not when she was just put on the most important case of her life and was up for a very important promotion.

 

Her mind drifted back to the online dating profile she had completed earlier today. It had taken a good couple of hours—not to mention it was made even more difficult when Momo began dangling over her shoulder, making suggestions and corrections—to finish the thing but now that it was complete Rukia felt a strange sense of… of…

 

Hell, she didn't know what it was. She didn't hate the fact that she had done it but she wasn't rejoicing either. It was like her opinion was stuck in some sort of a limbo. Maybe when it came time for someone to be chosen for her she would finally make up her mind about how she felt. It wasn't like she was hopeful or anything; she didn't expect the service to send her some prince charming that would come to her riding on a white stallion and sweep her immediately off of her feet. She just… she wanted…

 

Rukia closed her eyes and felt a cool breeze waft over her face. Truth be told she didn't know what she wanted. She wasn't sure she wanted what Momo and Toshiro had, all that love and commitment and gooey kissy-kissy stuff just made onlookers and friends alike want to vomit.

 

She wanted only a few things from a man… any man actually. One of them was definitely sex. Yes, any man that she stayed with had to be good at sex. It didn't have to happen every night, but often enough that she would remain satisfied. And if she did end up going out—she didn't like the word dating, it implied too much—with a guy from the service then sex definitely wouldn't even be discussed until after they had been seeing each other for a long while.

 

He would have to be physically attractive as well. She smirked softly and thought of her perfect man. Much to her chagrin she could only picture well oiled and trimmed Italian male models, who, she knew, would never go out with her. So, instead of trying to picture her perfect man, she began to imagine qualities.

 

He would be younger than Ukitake but just as kind. He would be taller than Toshiro but equally astute. He would be more conversational than her brother but just as smart. He would—

 

Rukia blinked and tried to think of other men she knew and much to her horror her mind was coming up completely blank. She extended her hand and stretched her fingers. She held up one for Byakuya, one for Ukitake, one for Toshiro, and one for the water-bottle guy in the park. Rukia swallowed hard, there were others, but she hadn't been in touch with any of them in years. Old college professors, childhood friends, and a couple of coworkers popped into her mind. But none of them stood out exceptionally far.

 

“Oh good God,” she moaned as she pressed a warm hand to her forehead. “I am a cat lady… only I don't have a cat.”

 

Rukia kept her hand pressed to her head as she walked down another block. She needed to stop thinking like that. It was during dangerous times like these that Momo's theories and crazy ideas about speed dating, online services, and clubbing actually made sense.

 

She just needed to go home, drink some wine, and go to bed. Rukia wrinkled her nose and shook her head, no wine tonight. She wanted to go face the jerk-wad tomorrow without sections of her brain throbbing.

 

Throughout the rest of her walk Rukia reminded herself to keep her eyes on the sky and search out different constellations rather than think about the limited number of men she knew.

 

Oh, okay, so there was one that she didn't mention.

 

“Orange-haired idiot.” She seethed. She paused and drew in a deep breath. Tomorrow she would have to turn over something akin to a new leaf with the man. She would ignore him. That was it, she would just ignore him. It was like Momo said, all she needed to do was play a part of a movie in her head, or a song, or a memory. She just needed to tune him out.

 

“I will expect nothing from him,” she mused vocally, “I will do all of the work myself and he can do whatever the hell he wants.” A hint of pride entered her voice and her mind drifted to when the merger would be complete. Rukia bent her head back and smiled… champagne glasses, confetti, suits and ties and little black dresses, maybe even party hats… not that she would be wearing one, but still, it would be entertaining. The bosses would congratulate her while Kurosaki scowled in a corner. She would get a promotion, a raise, and three weeks paid vacation—as a gift.

 

Rukia couldn't help the grin that surfaced on her features from spreading. Holding expectations that were that high could be dangerous. But she knew she could do it. She was Rukia Kuchiki, she could do anything.

 

It was from that moment on, as she was walking home from an evening at the movies, where Rukia vowed that she would have her own congratulatory ceremony, be it with Kurosaki or without.

 

*~*~*

 

Rukia's chair arrived at exactly seven thirty the next morning.

 

“Over there please,” she told the man in a clipped voice. He nodded and rolled her plush chair next to Kurosaki's chair. Rukia smiled softly as she compared them. Childish yes, but still… her chair was so much better than his.

 

The man adjusted it once before going towards the exit. Rukia stood confidently to the side and paid him before he left. As he trudged down the hallway Rukia could have sworn that she heard him mutter something about not starting work until nine.

 

The early bird catches the worm, Rukia told herself. That had been another of her brothers' mantras back when she lived with him. He had several and it had only been in the past few years that Rukia actually began to take them on as her own. She had even added a few phrases to his repertoire.

 

“Sarcasm is the body's natural defense against stupidity.” Rukia chimed in happily. Yes… of all of her sayings that one had to be her favorite. Not to mention it was also applicable to the real world. Kurosaki was a perfect example. He was stupid in his own way and she would most definitely have to employ sarcasm to keep him in his place.

 

His subservient place, of course.

 

Once she had her chair in place and her coffee brewing, Rukia booted up her computer, played a preliminary game of free cell—that game is so addicting—and went to work.

 

This type of acquisition would be what was called a horizontal merger, where both companies created the same products and sold them in the same general fields. Rukia knew this to be the best type, seeing as how there was no conflicting stock or irate buyers to deal with when shifting back and forth between companies. The only thing that was a bit irritating was that Yamamoto and Aizen wanted every detail, every stock option, and every department reviewed and revised before the merger even took place.

 

So this once simple operation was now a lengthy and drawn out process. Rukia would have to contact every department of each corporation, from the labor force to the foreign stock investment group to the domestic gross faction and so on and so forth. She had to review every file from all departments to make sure they complied with the statutes and laws affiliated with the new merger.

 

Granted, this thing would take far less time if she had actually been assigned a team of well-educated people to work with—well, under her actually—instead of one single jerk of a partner. Not that he was even working, of course, he was letting her do all of the grunt work, the brain work, and the filing.

 

Happy place, Rukia reminded herself sternly. Think of your happy place.

 

The morning hours flew by quickly, or at least, relatively quickly. She was able to finish three files for a secondary sub-department of an actual department. She rolled her eyes and had to remind herself of the huge promotional party that would be thrown in her honor once she finished this job.

 

Nine o'clock rolled around and Rukia took a moment to get up, stretch, and retrieve another cup of coffee. Her eyes scanned the open door and she saw that several people were milling around. A few passed her office and glanced inside and she nodded to them curtly. The moment she turned she heard the whispers begin.

 

Rukia rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee. Great, she grumbled, gossips, just what I need around here.

 

Back at Gotei Corp. anyone who had half a brain knew not to mess with, gossip about, or even stare at her for too long. Death, or at least, a demotion, would follow exceedingly quickly if they did. Rukia propped herself on the frame of the door and leaned back casually. She noticed that Inoue was at her desk, busy taking calls and stapling papers. She grinned when she thought of how her life and Inoue's lives were so different. Inoue was stuck stapling papers and Rukia… well, Rukia would soon be looking at a seven figure salary.

 

The satisfaction was only increased by the fact that she didn't like Inoue very much.

 

She scowled when she glanced over at the empty desk. It was alright… she would just ignore him. She didn't care if he was here on time.

 

Rukia bit her bottom lip and moved back to her computer. She pulled up another addicting free cell game and began to click the cards around. The problem about this whole `ignoring' him and `not acknowledging' him was that she didn't know how long she could keep it up. She did care when he showed up for work, she did care that he actually did his job, and she did want to have some sort of business rapport with him. It didn't have to be a good rapport… just a rapport.

 

What a strange word, Rukia sighed as she polished off her first game, I wonder if it's French…

 

She played a few more games before going back to work. It was bland and mundane but it was constant. Maybe that's what she liked so much about the law. Each day she could come in to work, know exactly what she was going to do, do it, and then go home. Some people would call that type of lifestyle boring, dull, or even monotonous. To Rukia it was just the way to live. It had even been the same when she lived with her brother; he got up, ate a grapefruit, went to work, came home, ate dinner, and went to bed.

 

It was safe.

 

She smiled and exited the computer game. She began to hum and wondered if she should bring in some classical music just to make the day less quiet.

 

The clock tolled on until almost nine thirty. Rukia had finished nearly half of a file on a secondary subdivision of an actual department when the door to the office opened.

 

“Sunshine,” he drawled, pulling the single word out into five syllables. “Didn't think I'd see you aga—what the hell did you do to my desk?”

 

The anger that had been building at the mention of the appellation `sunshine' was erased the moment she heard the irritation building in his voice. A smirk formed on Rukia's face and she calmly looked up at him. At her insistence, elevator music began playing inside of her mind. Calming… soothing… relaxing…

 

“Our desk,” she said flatly, an edge of nonchalance in her voice. She inclined her head towards him and gave him a chilled smile. “We, as it seems, have to share a desk until I am able to get one for myself.” She indicated towards the large space between their chairs. “Don't worry though, I've given you plenty of room.”

 

She sent him an icy look and smirked, “You're welcome.”

 

The look that spanned the entire length of his repugnant face would have been called astonishment. His jaw was slightly unhinged, his eyes were wide, and his nostrils were flaring occasionally.

 

Rukia smile turned sickly sweet and she pulled up another free cell game. She wanted to appear disinterested, enough so that he would allow her to continue with her elevator music.

 

Rukia's ears perked softly when she heard him tread into the carpeted room even more. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him place his briefcase on top of a counter, pivot, and turn away. Her gaze stayed on his broad back and then switched to his arms and his legs. She noticed the terse shoulder muscles, the gripped fists, and the tense thighs; all of them made her mawkish smile turn into a self-satisfied smirk as she watched him walk out of the office.

 

Who's annoying whom now? Rukia thought snidely. She clicked an extra number to the top of her free cell game and began humming the elevator music. “Bastard.” She muttered.

 

Rukia didn't have to wait long. In only a minute or two he reappeared, or, at least, his buttocks did. Rukia had to mentally scold herself for noticing his posterior before any other part of him. She told herself that it was, in fact, the most obvious area to look partially because it was the first thing in her range of vision.

 

Notice his dorsal area first, Rukia. She said inwardly. Not his very nicely shaped center of gravity.

 

Her eyes stayed glued to his shoulders as he moved further inside of the room. Rukia's eyebrows jerked upwards and a tick began near her temple when she saw that there was something stuck in his hands.

 

Kurosaki didn't make a sound as he came further into the office, dragging a small desk along with him. Her jaw loosened slightly when she saw it completely. It was a child's desk, the kind of desk that was found in middle schools and detention rooms. It was made out of fake wood attached by metal bars to a plastic seat.

 

The first thought through her mind was: Where did he find that thing? The second was: What the hell does he think he's going to do with it?

 

Her eyes followed him patiently as he moved inside and dragged the desk along with him. He skidded it against the worn carpet and shoved it into a deserted corner of the room. It tipped to the side before the poor thing wobbled and returned—in a cloud of dust—into its new spot.

 

Once the desk was pitifully situated Kurosaki straightened, turned, and focused the entire power of his angry stare onto Rukia Kuchiki.

 

He took two steps forward and Rukia didn't move. She held his stare. His eyes were furrowed much more than usual and she almost gave into the desire to laugh at his ridiculously strange face. His long strides covered the entirety of the space between them in seconds. There were small vibrations up her chair whenever he moved. She didn't dare take her eyes away from his but she knew that his fists were still clenched. His body was very close to the desk; in one more stride he had planted himself directly in front of her. She took note of his body posture as he leaned forward, moved his clenched hands in front of him, and smacked them onto the desk. The only objects separating them were her laptop and her coffee cup—both easily removable, Rukia noticed with dissatisfaction.

 

Violet sapphires met with honeyed amber and stayed. Rukia could sense that this was much more than a simple staring contest; it was a battle of wills. Hers would not be broken and neither would his. She dared to narrow her eyes and flattened her slow smirk into a deadly line. She would not lose this battle.

 

“Nice desk.” She said dryly.

 

His eyes didn't leave hers. His lips pulled back into a small growl and he narrowed his gaze, still scowling hard.

 

He jerked his arm out and pointed his index finger towards the pathetic desk in the corner. Her eyes still didn't leave his. “Sit.”

 

Her eyes were hard glints of violet marble and her flattened mouth became pursed and bloodless. “Do you think I'm a dog, Kurosaki?”

 

He cocked his head to the side and smirked, “I don't think you want me to answer that, Kuchiki.”

 

“That's why is was a rhetorical question.”

 

“Aren't you the smart one?”

 

Rukia glared at him, “I don't think you want me to answer that, Kurosaki.”

 

“That's why it was a rhetorical question.” He shot back.

 

Rukia leaned casually back in her chair and cocked an eyebrow. “My, my, my… our second day and you're already parroting everything I'm saying. My god, you're easier to train than a terrier, Kurosaki.” She spat his name out like filth.

 

“I thought we'd already established that dog comparisons weren't adequate.”

 

“For me, maybe, but most certainly not for you.”

 

“Perhaps I wouldn't have to parrot what you say if you would just shut up.”

 

Rukia's lips, eyes, brow, and nose began to work together to form the most withering glare ever present on a human face. But on top of that, on top of all of the malice she was exuding, was a grin that could have insulted anyone on the planet.

 

She cocked her head to the side, crossed her arms, and said, “How original… does the writer's guild know about you?”

 

Death.

 

That's what she saw in his eyes.

 

Mirth.

 

That's what was shining in her face.

 

Rukia leaned forward onto her desk—for it was her desk now, she had laid absolute claim to it in this very argument—and placed her elbows on the top. She laced her fingers together in a steepled pattern and pressed the tips against her curved lips. Her eyes darted up to his and she made sure that he saw the steel drawn inside of them. From the outside she was the picture of perfection: fantastically groomed, leaning forward with an impossibly straight spine, a marbled face with a passive-aggressive expression, and eye contact that was as solid as stone.

 

It was Kurosaki who looked so flustered he could barely speak. His hair was mussed and wild, his eyes were sparkling and furious, his posture was terribly distorted, his muscles were tense, and his face was even uglier than usual.

 

She was in control. She was the boss. She ruled this office.

 

Rukia took a millisecond to bask in the glory of this achievement. And in that millisecond she also privileged herself one nanosecond to mark this as a small victory for all women working anywhere in the corporate world.

 

Then she turned back to him.

 

“From where I'm sitting,” Rukia began, enjoying the ironic twist to her words, “You have three options.” She raised her hand like a kindergarten teacher and began to count them off, all the while ignoring the tick pulsating in his cheek.

 

“One,” she said, “You can share this space with me, as I have so generously offered before. You get half of the desk, as well as a little bit of your dignity, back.”

 

Wow, just look at that tick go.

 

“Two,” she continued, “You may choose to sit in that desk you so lovingly stuffed in the corner.” She smiled sweetly and raised an eyebrow, “However if you do that I might just be tempted to place a dunce cap on your head.”

 

Could spontaneous combustion just occur in the head region?

 

“Three,” she said with finality, “You may leave.”

 

Rukia one, Kurosaki zero.

 

The glaring contest had resumed. She and Kurosaki were staring at each other with every ounce of their strength. She knew she was winning though. She had the upper hand, the power… and she had the desk. Sure, she didn't know if she'd be able to keep it past today but that didn't matter. She had it, she was sitting, yet he was just standing there, trying to look imposing but failing miserably. She was the winner for today.

 

They must have stayed that way for at least fifteen minutes. Rukia, in order to combat the insufferable boredom that was accompanying this outrageously lengthy and silent debate, began playing the elevator music in her head. She stared at him hard and didn't let her eyes go glassy. She did not look to the side, she did not yawn, she did not speak, and she barely blinked.

 

Face it, Rukia Kuchiki could out stare a dead man… and Ichigo Kurosaki was not a dead man.

 

They would have continued this all day. Hell, Rukia knew that she could have done it; despite her small size she did not tire easily, not to mention she possessed the bladder of a thirty-five year old male, she could keep this thing going for hours.

 

The only thing that broke through their I-Wish-You-Were-Dead staring match was a soft knock on the door and the appearance of a red haired woman sporting a large chest, a dangerously low cut shirt, a tight skirt, and a bright, vacuous, smile.

 

“Mr. Kurosaki?”

 

He didn't move.

 

Neither did she.

 

Orihime Inoue shifted nervously at the door. Her eyes swept the scene before her and she knocked again. “Mr. Kurosaki?”

 

He still didn't move.

 

Neither did she.

 

Inoue fluttered near the entrance of the office and kept on shifting her stance. She seemed both displeased and irritated as she stood there. This kept on for nearly two more minutes before she gave a squeaky sigh and approached them.

 

“Mr. Kurosaki?” She reached her hand forward and touched him lightly on the shoulder.

 

He jerked away.

 

Victory.

 

Rukia didn't notice the expression that crossed Inoue's face at the reaction her touch stimulated. Her eyes were only on him.

 

“Yes, Inoue, what did you want?”

 

His voice was grating and rough. Inoue's expression didn't change but Rukia didn't pay attention to it. She was too busy glaring at his frowning face, his arrogant eyebrows, his fuming eyes, and his red face.

 

I shouldn't be enjoying this as much as I am. She thought absently. It took her only a second to realize that she didn't actually care if taking pleasure in this was politically correct or not. For the first time in a long time she was actually enjoying herself with a man. Albeit the fact that her actual enjoyment was really torturing him.

 

This isn't the time to be politically correct Rukia, she told herself, just have fun with it while you can.

 

Inoue looked timidly at the ground. “Mr. Ichimaru wanted to see you in his office.” She paused softly and kept on shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her eyes were darting back and forth between them and she bit her bottom lip. “Um… now.”

 

Rukia's smirking grin grew wider and wider. She cocked an eyebrow up even more and tilted her head to the side.

 

“I think you need to leave now.” She said softly… dangerously.

 

“I'll be back,” he growled.

 

“Thanks for the update, Arnold,” she replied, her dripping sarcasm doused by the iron-clad tone of her voice. “But I won't be waiting.”

 

He gave her another brain-sizzling, mind-numbing, head-combusting stare. Rukia weathered it like an Eskimo in a snowstorm and began playing the elevator music once again. After about three more seconds of hard-core glaring Kurosaki stood, turned, and stomped out of her office.

 

His footsteps left a veritable wake behind him. Rukia could still hear them as he continued to the elevator and jammed his finger into the button.

 

The sudden urge to jump out of her chair and do a victory dance was overwhelming. Rukia, however, did not allow herself to leap out of her chair. Instead she settled on grinning like an idiot and allowing herself to play a congratulatory game of free cell.

 

While she clicked all of the proper cards into all of the proper places, silently damning herself for not having a camera with her during that altercation, she didn't even notice the remaining presence of Orihime Inoue.

 

The young woman was standing there, staring at the space where Kurosaki had exited in a cloud of rage, just prancing from one foot to the other. Once Rukia noticed she was there, she tactfully decided to ignore her. When nearly a whole minute had passed with her simply staring and shifting, Rukia glanced up and blandly asked, “Did you need something… In—Orihime?” She had to remind herself to use the woman's first name instead of her last.

 

Her head turned to Rukia and she blinked a few times before smiling brightly.

 

If Rukia could have rolled her eyes she would have. Dear god, she thought, does the woman have to look so… vacant… all the time?

 

“He really is a nice guy,” she said softly. Rukia's eyes lifted from her game and she frowned gently at the woman. Her voice had been laced with something akin to… yearning?

 

My, my, my… is Ms. Inoue a little sweet on Mr. Kurosaki? Rukia's mind curled around the idea and when it hit her fully she felt like gagging. How someone could even be remotely attracted to someone like him was beyond her understanding.

 

There must be something about him that draws her in… she mused. Could it be his disgusting scowl? How revoltingly tall he was? Maybe it's his arrogance.

 

Rukia shrugged, she knew that some girls liked guys like that. She just didn't know why. When she finally decided on someone—be it a random man on the street or someone chosen for her by a complex computer algorithm—she was going to be his equal in every way. She wouldn't just sit around aimlessly and watch him be an ass all the time… like Inoue seemed to be doing.

 

She pursed a smile through her teeth and nodded her head curtly, “I'm sure you think so.”

 

Inoue turned to face her and a pretty frown began to form on her eyes. “But he is. He's very nice… generous, caring, and compassionate…”

 

She felt like gagging again, only this time the sensation of near-vomiting also plagued her stomach and throat. Rukia's patience was running very thin. She tapped on her mouse lightly and nodded again. Hell, she would just have to placate the woman if she couldn't say what she really thought of Ichigo Kurosaki.

 

“Maybe once I get to know him better.” She said with a false smile carefully lighting up her features. She even employed the use of her `happy voice' in order to make it seem a bit more believable.

 

Inoue nodded enthusiastically and smiled. “Oh don't worry. When you get to know him you'll like him a lot.”

 

And just how well do you know him, Ms. Inoue? Was the question on the tip of Rukia's tongue. She held it in. Her jaw tightened as she attempted to stifle the dark laughter that was bubbling in the pit of her stomach. God this woman was irritating. “Thank you Orihime,” she said in a clipped tone, “I'll keep that in mind.”

 

Inoue nodded to Rukia and smiled kindly. Although, no matter how large her smile was, how far back her lips were pulled, or how bright her teeth were, there was no disguising that tiny glint in her eyes. Rukia knew that type of gleam well. It was one that accompanied wistfulness and, dare she say it, jealousy.

 

Inoue walked out quickly, her heels tapped on the ground and Rukia's eyes followed her shining red hair as she left. There was just something about that girl… something that made Rukia want to be aware of her. She had a feeling in her gut that she needed to keep a tab or two on her.

 

She finished her games and pulled out a few more files, briefly wondering whether Kurosaki would be back in the office anytime soon. She doubted it but she guessed that they both deserved their days. Yesterday she was able to leave the office in a flurry of hate, and today, since she reciprocated the spiteful favor, it was his day to leave in a flurry of hate. She would be generous enough and give it to him. Rukia smiled to herself, yes, she was a very nice person to let him have his day.

 

He's like a groundhog in that respect. She thought absently, realizing that in the past hour she's compared Kurosaki to two different animals.

 

An hour later, when she was knee-deep in files and accounts, she thought back to the strategies that Momo had told her to use. She realized that while the elevator music might have been successful at first, she had ended up fighting with him anyway.

 

Oh well, she thought lightly, I don't mind.

 

 

 

 

(A/N: First off: While the desk thing might be like MMH don't worry, it will be different.

Secondly: I'm very excited about how people are receiving this story. 82 reviews for five chapters! I'm so happy!

Thirdly: I really can't wait to update Chapter 8! The story might be dragging now (to some) but trust me when I tell you it's going to get pretty exciting pretty soon! I can't WAIT!!!

PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!!!)