Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Odalisque ❯ Chapter 7 ( Chapter 7 )

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

 

 

 

Odalisque

 

Chapter 7

 

Ichigo Kurosaki came very close to ruining a trade agreement with New Zealand today. Although it wouldn't have happened if Rukia Kuchiki had pissed him off. If that damn dwarf hadn't been sitting in his desk when he walked into the office, utilizing his personal space, and breathing his air, then he wouldn't have nearly lost New Zealand.

 

It wasn't like he actually cared what happened with New Zealand or not, it was Uryu who cared, and he was the one who had been dealing with them when Ichigo decided to burst into his office, stomp up to his seat, and demand that Uryu give him one of his sewing needles so he could use it to `poke the eyes out of that damn woman.'

 

Needless to say the three female executives of the New Zealand Electronics Company, who had been prepared to buy large amounts of stock from Suigetsu Inc., hadn't been too pleased with this sudden and insulting statement. They had all stared at him like the three witches from Macbeth, ready to flay his skin right off of his body as soon as the opportune time was at hand.

 

So here Ichigo was, pacing outside of his `friends' office, fuming, while inside Uryu attempted to apologize for his Tourette-inflicted friend.

 

“Yes,” he heard Uryu say sadly, “Once I introduced him to my grandmother and he accidentally told her to do something rather inappropriate with her knitting needles.”

 

A resounding gasp came from inside the room.

 

Ichigo could just picture Uryu nodding his head solemnly over the completely fabricated event. “I know… I know… it's a terrible thing really, I have a theory that it might be connected with the absurdity of his hair color.”

 

A murmur of collective understanding infiltrated his ears.

 

“He's getting help though… now, where was I? Oh yes… in the next three years you can be guaranteed a tripling of your stock value…”

 

Ichigo tuned him out from there and concentrated on how, exactly, he was going to deal with the toad currently lodged in his office.

 

“I'm going to have to buy a new desk,” he muttered vindictively, “She touched it.”

 

He grimaced and realized how childish that might sound to another human being—discarding a desk just because a woman had touched it, yeah, he sounded like he was in the second grade and still deathly afraid of cooties. Still, when it came to this particular woman, there were no exceptions. She was evil and he had to discard anything she had ever touched for fear of contracting the bubonic plague.

 

The New Zealanders were beginning to exit the office and every single one of them gave Ichigo a strangely sympathetic look when they passed him on their way out. A few began muttering sympathies for him while he distinctly heard another one advise medication on his behalf.

 

Uryu's head popped out from the room as he bid his buyers goodbye and tactfully waited for the elevator doors to close before rounding on Ichigo and dryly saying, “I'm not ruining my sewing needles with someone else's blood, so you can forget it.”

 

“That was only my first option,” Ichigo snarled as he angrily stepped into Uryu's office uninvited, “Options number two and three involve kitchen knives or knitting needles, I'm sure you have those around as well.”

 

The door shut behind them, “Don't be so dramatic, Kurosaki.” He paused for a moment and shrugged, “And yes, in fact, I do own knitting needles. Still, stop acting like a drama queen, Kurosaki.”

 

“You're just not getting the big picture, Uryu,” Ichigo shot back, “You don't have to share your office with a pint-sized she-demon who would rather bite my head off than talk to me.”

 

“Lots of people would actually like do that, you know.”

 

Ichigo slumped down into Uryu's chair and slithered his feet onto the desk. His Italian loafers shined in the sunny light gleaming through the window. He leaned his head back in the chair and groaned. A headache was throbbing at his temples now and he hated it.

 

“Kurosaki, why are you in my office?” Uryu walked a few steps forward and sat in a chair that had been vacated by a New Zealander. “If you've come here just to bitch and moan about some problem you have with a woman then I'd surmise to say that you have the mind set of a thirteen year old girl running to tell her friends about a boy who called her ugly.”

 

Ichigo sent him a horrible glare. Uryu ignored it. Ichigo growled and wondered why his stares seemed to be losing their effect on people. First the demon-dwarf and now Uryu… what was the world coming to?

 

“I'm escaping,” he said flatly, “From her.”

 

“I see…”

 

“And also because if I go anywhere near her within the next thirty minutes I'm likely to end up tackling her and wringing her neck.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“I'm serious.”

 

“I'm sure you are.”

 

“I need to get rid of her.”

 

“Kurosaki, you have more experience with getting rid of women than I do.”

 

Ichigo ignored the dig and wrinkled his nose menacingly. “But you have sharp pointy things hidden somewhere in this office.”

 

Uryu sighed and rolled his eyes to the top of his head. “Kurosaki…” he closed his eyes and shook his head. “You need to go in and deal with her.”

 

“Maybe when I have a weapon in my hands.”

 

“Alright… get out.”

 

Ichigo lifted his eyes to his friends face and glared. He straightened, removed his feet from the desk, and stood from the chair. “Fine, but I'm going to blame you if she cuts off my balls when I step back inside.”

 

“You just need to find some way of talking to her without getting into an argument.” Uryu glared at him, “Or maybe you just need to stop talking since all you really do is argue anyway.”

 

“I do not argue with people all the time.”

 

Uryu's look was pointed and ironic. Ichigo glared back at him and began to walk towards the door. His posture was hard as he tried to prepare himself for another meeting with the female version of Lucifer.

 

“You know…”

 

Uryu's voice slowed him on the way out.

 

He turned towards him. Uryu sat properly in the chair, his arm resting on the table and his fingers drumming lightly against the wood. His cool blue eyes were staring contemplatively out the window and he cocked his head slightly. “This Kuchiki woman,” he began slowly, “Isn't like the other women you're used to being around.”

 

“You're right about that,” Ichigo seethed, “She's evil.”

 

“Not that,” Uryu grumbled, “What I mean is that she's different. She's not going to take your crap just because she wants to sleep with you.” He gave Ichigo a penetrating stare, “She doesn't… right?”

 

“She'd rather see me dead.”

 

“Good,” Uryu continued, “Then maybe you should start treating her like she has a brain and not just a vagina.”

 

Ew. Ichigo thought. “I do not think of all women in that way.” He scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I can't help it if women want what I can give them. It's not like it's my fault.”

 

“It's partly your fault.” Uryu pointed out, “Whatever happened to `just say no'?”

 

Ichigo glared at him, “You try saying no to women when they're tearing their clothes off and going after yours.”

 

“You could try.”

 

“I have tried.”

 

“Not hard enough apparently.”

 

“Uryu…” he growled, “I'm not a saint, I'm a guy, and if a girl wants to sleep with me and I'm in the mood then…” he shrugged, already annoyed, “Why not have a good time?”

 

“So basically, boys will be boys?”

 

“Sure. If you want to put it that way. But it's only half of it.”

 

The pointed look grew even worse.

 

Ichigo glared at him and snarled. “Shove off Uryu.”

 

With that he exited the office, completely ready to avoid Rukia Kuchiki for the rest of the day.

 

*~*~*

 

Rukia sat at a lunch table in the company cafeteria and munched on her leafy greens once again. Well, she did have at least one good thing to say about Suigetsu Inc.: they certainly had better food than the cafeteria at Gotei Corp. Well, in the salads at least, the chicken was a bit firmer and wasn't raw in the center. Although she still didn't know what those tiny patches of yellow sprinkled on the inside of her dish were. Corn, perhaps? Did people actually put corn in salad?

 

“Surprise!”

 

Rukia's eyes shot up and a small gasp escaped her mouth. “Momo!” She cried, “What are you doing here?”

 

The young woman didn't have to be invited to sit down; she simply smiled at Rukia, pulled a second chair back and placed her bum inside the seat. She pulled her purse off of her shoulder and set it on the table.

 

“Just thought I'd join you for lunch.” She said happily. Her hair was up in a bun once again, her cheeks were tinged with pink, and her lips were curved into a beatific smile. “I'm so lonely just sitting there with your office so empty.” Her mouth curved into a pout and she grabbed a carrot slice from Rukia's salad. “It's no fun without you there.”

 

Rukia smothered a small smile and watched as Momo pulled out a sandwich and a soda from her own lunch bag. She bit into it happily and grinned at her friend. She was glad to see Momo, she really was. All day she had been surrounded by people who either didn't know her or didn't bother to make an acquaintance with her, so it was pretty nice to finally see a familiar face, especially if that face was beaming as brightly as Momo's.

 

“So… how's your life been going?” Her friend asked happily as she munched on her sandwich.

 

The sadistic curve on Rukia's lips had Momo's attention in a heartbeat. “What is it?” She demanded hungrily. She leaned forward and widened her eyes just a bit. Rukia's eyebrow arched and she shrugged, Momo must be hungry for some sort of conversation to be this into what she was saying.

 

Nevertheless, Rukia took a victory bite before smirking. “I made him my bitch.”

 

“No!”

 

“Yep,” she snickered. “I came in and completely mauled his cocky, sadistic, attitude.” She swallowed and smiled, “But this was how it happened… he brought in this tiny, child-sized desk, and ordered me to sit in it.”

 

“Ordered?” Momo gasped.

 

“Ordered.” Rukia affirmed. She pushed a few things around in her plastic bowl and continued, “We had a staring contest—I won—and I gave him the rules,” she pulled up her fingers and twitched them upwards, “He could sit in the desk with me, use the tiny kid desk, or leave.”

 

“And?” Her friend asked, her voice was way too eager for more details.

 

“Inoue came in and told him that Ichimaru wanted to see him.” Rukia snorted and wrinkled her nose, “That saved his ass. I would have wiped the floor with it if he had stayed.”

 

Momo began to eat the second half of her sandwich, “So no elevator music?” She asked knowingly.

 

Rukia sighed and shook her head, “I tried, Momo, I really did. He just kept talking and I just got so annoyed.” She wrinkled her nose and suddenly felt the hunger in her stomach boil over into anger.

 

“Damn him.” She muttered.

 

“I can't believe you said that,” Momo murmured. Her voice had a trace of awe inside of it. She nibbled on her crust and grinned. “I'm happy for you.”

 

“Yeah, but I'm not sure how long the victory will last.” Rukia admitted, she wiggled her fork in her hand and frowned, “Hell, I might come back to the office and he might be there, sitting in the desk.” She scowled and took a disgusted bite, “Waiting for me.”

 

“Probably,” Momo said. She wiggled her eyebrows and tapped her feet on the floor. She hummed a little tune and grinned happily.

 

Rukia, knowing that look, rolled her eyes and sighed, “So… what did you and Toshiro do last night?” Her voice was flat and she sounded completely disinterested but Momo perked up anyway. Her eyes sparkled happily and she giggled.

 

“Well, now since you asked,” she let out a dramatic squeal and grinned goofily. “He made me dinner last night.” Her cheeks became pink and she actually began to hug herself as she reminisced. “You should have seen him stirring that linguini… oh it was so sexy! And how he seasoned the salmon!” She licked her lips and sighed. “It was so romantic.”

 

The frown lines in Rukia's forehead could have rivaled the Grand Canyon for depth. Cooking was sexy? How did that figure? Whenever Rukia tried to make something she always ended up covered in batter, flour, and some type of mix of blood and juice. Making a mess of things didn't seem remotely sexy to her. Oh well, maybe Toshiro actually knew what he was doing.

 

“Okay…” Rukia muttered, pushing the rest of her salad away. Hearing Momo talk about how Toshiro cooked for her made her appetite mysteriously dissipate. “And…?”

 

Momo leaned forward into the table and whispered eagerly into Rukia's waiting ears. “I think he's building up.”

 

Rukia's blank stare went even blanker so she twisted an eyebrow upwards, hoping Momo would elaborate. “You think he's what?”

 

Momo pushed Rukia's arm playfully but with insistently growing intent. “Building up, Rukia… building up.” She glanced over both of her shoulders before turning back and whispering, “To the… you know… the proposal.”

 

“Oh.” Was the answer Momo received.

 

The look on Momo's face would have scared little children.

 

“Oh?” Her friend gasped, “Oh! Rukia, what do you mean `oh?' Come on, this is my future husband we could be talking about! I need more than one lousy `oh!'”

 

Rukia threw her palms up in defense, “Sorry, sorry…” she drew in a deep breath and placed both of her hands on the table, her fingers were fisted though, so as not to get any viral germs onto them—really, who knew who had sneezed on these things? Disregarding that notion after a moment's thought, she pulled the full force of her magnificent stare on her friend and gave Momo her complete attention. “Have you chosen what you're going to wear to the dinner yet? Was that a bit less lousy?”

 

“Yes,” Her answer was immediate, although Rukia wasn't sure which question she was answering. “Halter top dress, black, stiletto heels, diamond earrings, rosy-peach lipstick.”

 

“Sounds good,” Rukia murmured, she had seen the dress that Momo was referring to, it showed a bit more cleavage than Rukia would have suggested but she thought that with the heels and the earrings it would all go over very well. Momo would look both sultry and sweet at the same time. She knew that Toshiro would be stunned out of his mind by the mere sight of her. “Toshiro will be enthralled.” She assured her friend, who had started to panic during Rukia's moment of silent contemplation.

 

A beatific smile passed over Momo's face and she giggled happily. A couple of women passed by their table and gave them strange stares but Momo didn't notice a single one of them. She was too wrapped up in her own happiness to notice anything.

 

Rukia's eyes scanned the cafeteria. It was well-lit and had many tables scattered around. All of them had fake flowers stuffed into plastic vases in the center of each plastic top. To the side of the room there was also a very long line of sneeze-guarded food trays, each was manned by a personal attendant, and they displayed everything from salad to pasta to rubbery steak to wiggling jell-o. All in all it wasn't exactly a bad place. As cafeterias went it was actually… pretty nice.

 

There was also the issue of the people inside of it. Everywhere she looked Rukia saw people she didn't know. Granted, she didn't associate with many people at Gotei Corp. either but at least she recognized their faces. Here she just saw skirted women she didn't know, men—everywhere from mid-twenties to mid-eighties—she didn't recognize, and occasionally big-shots she had seen in newspapers and magazines would breeze through the area.

 

Most of them—the women in particular—gave her funny looks. Rukia just summed it up to her current position as the new girl. With a slight shudder of horror she felt like she was back high school. The funny stares, the snickers behind open books, the glares, the summations… everything was nearly exactly the same.

 

It's true what they say, Rukia thought bitterly, high school never ends. Especially when it comes to the nerds and the jocks.

 

Rukia poked at her salad and wrinkled her nose. In real life, schools were not musical productions that had entire singing cafeterias, flawed characters finding the light, and young love blooming innocently at every corner. High school wasn't like that and neither was life. In reality there were cliques: the popular people, the nerds, the jocks, the freaks, the skaters, the stoners, and the overachievers. When you got out into the real world it was the exact same… only in the real world the differences were covered up by Italian loafers, Hermes scarves, and Armani suits.

 

It was relatively easy to do, you just had to play your parts properly and you were home free.

 

Rukia and Momo continued to chatter on about her possible-and-probable-impending marriage throughout lunch, Rukia ignored the stares that she received from an increasingly large percentage of the population of the cafeteria, and when the time came for them to part ways they both smiled and waved themselves back to their offices.

 

Rukia smiled softly as she walked back up the where she was supposed to work. Momo's big date was only two nights away. She and Toshiro weren't seeing each other tonight but she could only guess that the man was trying to put together up some nerve in order to ask her the `big question.'

 

If he would even ask it.

 

“Marriage…” Rukia breathed disgustedly.

 

She wouldn't be able to stand it, being shackled to another person for the entirety of your life… sharing the same bathroom, the same chairs, the same bed, and even the same diseases… it sounded revolting. Who would ever find something like that romantic? It was… repulsive. Really, aside from the tax break what was the big point? Rukia sure as hell didn't see it. Momo had once told her there was the whole `love' thing to consider but Rukia knew that love was as flighty as it was intense.

 

She eased her steps momentarily and bit her bottom lip. One minute everything is fantastic, you're enjoying life, you're happy with each other, you trust one another completely, and you're absolutely positive that he's the one… and then the next minute…

 

“He's married to someone else.” She muttered disgustedly under her breath. Rukia wrinkled her nose and paced slowly down the hall. At least, she told herself that it was complete disgust. She couldn't lie to herself entirely though; she knew that deep down, buried beneath all the anger, repugnance, and loathing was an inkling of pain that she just couldn't seem to squash.

 

Just forget it. She thought tiredly. I always almost forget it and I always end up remembering it. How twisted is that?

 

She opened the door to the office and walked inside. Her mind was uncomfortably bogged down with things she wanted to forget. She attempted to push them away—or down further into her subconscious—by focusing on her upcoming workload. She made a mental list of what needed to be done and by what time. She began to count, on her fingers, how long this entire thing would probably take. Months… even longer if Kurosaki wouldn't cooperate.

 

When she opened the door to her office she saw that it was as empty as it had been when she had left it. A small, victorious, smile appeared on her face and she sighed happily at her triumph for the day.

 

She had won against Kurosaki.

 

The Nerd triumphed over the Jock.

 

And now the gerbil in my brain does a happy-dance, she thought, giggling silently.

 

Rukia Kuchiki, nerd and overachiever extraordinaire, sat back at her desk, and got back to work.

 

*~*~*

 

Rukia didn't see him again the next day either.

 

The office, hell the entire floor, was already missing their orange-haired circus freak. Rukia didn't mind though. She had already adapted the office to her specific needs, she had her coffee-maker, her computer, and her chair. She was perfectly happy with her current situation. Hell, she had even brought in some classical music to play while she worked. There was nothing better than Mozart to make the work-day go by a little faster.

 

She didn't get visits from anyone other than Momo, who had taken it upon herself to come over to Suigetsu Inc. for lunch everyday. They had always eaten lunch together at Gotei Corp. and Momo didn't want to lose one of the only times she saw her best friend. Rukia was glad for her company; it helped to take the edge off of the stress she felt here at Suigetsu Inc. She still didn't like the stares she was constantly getting from some of the people in this place. Many of whom were convinced that she had usurped Ichigo Kurosaki's position.

 

And if she had to be shrewd, she'd say that most of the people eyeing her were of the feminine variety. She saw several women who would pass by the office, glance inside, continue on their way, back up, and then stare blankly at her. The first few times she just ignored them, but after it had happened a few times she began to pointedly stare back. She even went as far as to ask them if they needed anything. The replies were always brief, followed by quick conversations about Kurosaki, where he was, who she was, and if she knew when he was coming back. She gave them flat answers and they gave her curt goodbyes.

 

Wednesday rolled by without any incidents and by the end of it Rukia was beginning to believe that Kurosaki might completely forgo the offices at Suigetsu Inc. and just stay away from her completely.

 

Wouldn't be a bad thing, she thought halfheartedly, although it would just mean a shit-load of extra work for me.

 

Hours ticked by calmly. She worked, made calls, and filed. She was back in her safe, steady, work routine. It made her happy.

 

Lunch with Momo was an event, even more so than usual. She continued to croon over her impending marriage. In Momo's mind it was now a certainty. She was absolutely positive that Toshiro was going to propose to her on Friday evening at the Silken Rose. She blathered on about what type of cake she would want to eat, what flowers she would wear in her hair, and what ring she was dreaming of.

 

It was nearly six o'clock when Rukia lifted her head from her computer and blinked at the door. A frantic clattering was clear from behind it.

 

Rukia's brow furrowed and she inclined her head to the side. She couldn't see anything but she could sure as hell hear. And there was definitely something going on out there. Her mind whirled as she wondered who would be making such a racket—and it was a racket, she could heard clunking and banging and cursing coming from outside the office—at this time in the evening. Most everyone had gone home already.

 

She strained her ear so she might be able to hear what was going on but didn't move an inch from her seat.

 

“Hold it steady!” Someone hissed. Rukia could swear that she had heard that voice somewhere before.

 

“I'm trying,” someone else grunted, “Do you know how heavy this damn thing is?”

 

“Yeah, I do, I'm helping you carry it, dumb-ass.”

 

The voices were getting closer to her position. She had already discerned one voice. She'd know that voice anywhere.

 

“You're only grasping it, I'm the one who's carrying most of it, Kurosaki.”

 

“You are not, quit whining like a little girl.”

 

“I've got the biggest part, how can you—ugh—say that you're hauling the most?” The speaker paused to take a breath. “And I do not whine like a girl.”

 

“Explain what you're doing right now then.”

 

“Conversing.”

 

“Whining.”

 

“Just get the damn door open will you?”

 

Rukia was immobile in her seat as she listened to the continued bickering coming from the two men outside. Her ears remained attentive and her eyes moved swiftly down to the doorknob. It twisted slowly and a moment later the door was pounded open by a slender man with flaming orange hair.

 

Once again, his buttocks was the first thing inside of the room. She pointedly stared away while he shimmied into the space. Something very large was being supported with his arms and she hazarded a glance at what it was.

 

Rukia's eyes widened when she saw the object he was holding.

 

“My desk!” She gasped. She shot out of her seat and immediately rushed to the door. Although she remembered not to rush too much in case they saw her—a lady does not rush for anyone, she reminded herself properly. She grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it all the way back. Squashing herself to the side wall in the process.

 

More of Kurosaki's butt came through the door and Rukia pressed herself even harder against the wall in order to get away from him and his encroaching butt. It took him a good five minutes to actually wiggle her larger-than-average desk through the tiny doorframe. The twosome—Rukia still had no idea who the other man was—had to turn it to the side, push it against the door, lift it, set it right side up, and then repeat in order to get the entire thing into the office. Combined with the ongoing line of expletives that were constantly streaming from both of their lips it was both quite entertaining and quite humorous to watch.

 

Finally the desk was inside the room and Rukia was able to get a look at the second man. He was thin, pale, with a sharp face and wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses covering his eyes. His hair was a shiny shade of black—not unlike her own—and, unlike the other male in the room, he actually looked intelligent.

 

There was a calculating gleam in his eyes that told her that he knew the ins and outs of every aspect of this company. Something told her that he was the kind of person who would remember the names of associates and their kids, know which people to mingle with at a company party, who to invite over to a family dinner, what to talk about with different people, and what tie would go well with which suit.

 

Rukia smashed herself against the wall and allowed them to come in even further. The one with the black hair wheezed softly as they dragged the metallic desk closer to the center.

 

“W-Where do you want it?” The second one asked.

 

“Against the wall,” Kurosaki grunted. “As far away from mine as fucking possible.”

 

Rukia should have been offended by that statement but considering that Kurosaki and his friend had just dragged her rather large and heavy desk from one huge office building to another she guessed that she could let that statement slide…

 

For now.

 

“You really don't like this woman, do you?” The man with glasses asked.

 

“No, Uryu, I think she's Miss Congeniality,” Kurosaki answered, his voice dripping with scathing sarcasm. “Of course I hate her. I'd like to shove her head into an oven.”

 

A tick began to pulse in Rukia's forehead and she leaned casually against the opposite wall. She truly hoped that Kurosaki was being this candid because he didn't believe she was in the room. But then again who really knew? Maybe he was just that spiteful.

 

“Well just keep in mind that she'll be stuck to you for the next couple of months.”

 

“Sure… I'll love her as much as I'd love a wart on my ass.”

 

“That is just something I didn't need to know, Kurosaki.”

 

“Bite me Uryu.”

 

“So you do have conversation skills,” Rukia admitted dryly from her perch on the wall. “That's quite a surprise.”

 

Both of their heads shot over to where Rukia was tilting casually against the wall. She cocked an eyebrow up and found her eyes drawn to Kurosaki's blazing gaze. She noticed briefly that the other man—Uryu… that was his name—nodded his head in recognition before turning back to the desk.

 

“Kurosaki,” he said sternly, “Put the desk down before you resume your staring match with Ms. Kuchiki.”

 

Kurosaki tore his eyes away from hers and—in a rather animated and pain-inducing process—kept on shoving her desk into the furthest corner of the room. Rukia smiled and tried to ignore the sinister comments he kept throwing her way. Rukia simply grinned at the pair as they worked her desk into its new corner. Now hers was at one side of the room while his was at the other, well, almost. His was pressed into the back left corner while hers rode the right wall. There was plenty of space between them—even though the added desk did make for a bit less office space—and Rukia wasn't in danger of being hit by the door.

 

“My, my Kurosaki,” Rukia crooned insultingly. “You're just full of surprises aren't you?”

 

He slammed his palms down onto the table and glared down at the top. Rukia was glad he hadn't looked up at her when he did that; he would have certainly seen the tiny jolt that rushed through her spine and made her jump in slight alarm.

 

He raised his head and his angry, golden-amber eyes turned on her. “I'm only doing this,” he spat angrily, “Because I don't ever want to come within five feet of you… ever.”

 

Rukia grinned, “I'm glad we understand each other.”

 

He nodded crisply and stood up slowly. Once again, Rukia took a moment to wonder at his height and how he carried himself. He really did look taller than he actually was.

 

“Look,” he ground out and drew her attention back to his god-awful face. “Let's just do this thing as quickly as possible. I stay away from you, you stay away from me, we talk to each other only when necessary, and we smile for the cameras.”

 

“What's going on is supposed to be kept a secret,” she reminded him dryly.

 

He shook his head, “Whatever. The important thing is that we only need to barely tolerate each other for a while.”

 

Rukia's suspicion radar began to detonate within her brain. Red lights were practically flashing in front of her eyes, screaming to her that Kurosaki was up to something.

 

She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you being like this?” She demanded harshly. “This doesn't sound like… you.” She spat the word like a curse.

 

He scowled even harder and gritted his teeth, “What? You don't trust me?” He snickered through clenched teeth.

 

“Che,” she snorted, “Let me put it to you this way: if the office was burning down and I had a chance to save either you or my signature Chappy the Rabbit coffee mug I'd choose the mug.”

 

“Gee don't I feel loved,” he retaliated nastily. She glared at him and he moved over to his own desk, grabbed her chair, and began to push it towards her desk. “Now get your crap off my desk before I shove it off.”

 

Rukia glared at him for a good three minutes before tromping over to his desk—thank god it had the proper pronoun attached to it now—and grabbing up her laptop and her now infamous Chappy the Rabbit themed coffee mug. She shifted them over to her own space and, after a moment, realized that there was indeed another person still hovering inside of the room.

 

Rukia blinked at him, “Hello.” She said incredulously. She couldn't believe she hadn't realized he had been there the entire time. Kurosaki had been too busy distracting her that she had completely forgotten proper greeting etiquette. “I'm sorry, I don't think we've met.” She took a few steps forward and extended her hand. “Rukia Kuchiki.”

 

The spidery young man offered her his hand as well and a small smirk escaped his mouth. “I know who you are.”

 

Oh great.

 

“Really?” Rukia said, feigning surprise, “How so?”

 

“Your brother,” he said simply.

 

Of course.

 

“It's not very easy to forget the name of someone as influential as Byakuya Kuchiki.” He remarked casually.

 

“Or as frightening,” Rukia added, turning up the dial on her famous charm. Oh yes, she could lay it on thick when she wanted to. She wasn't a sweet-talking, attractive, corporate lawyer for nothing.

 

His mouth quirked up in a knowing smile, as though he could sense that she was sweet talking him just like any other corporate schmuck. “Uryu Ishida,” he said and grasped her hand tightly and efficiently. Rukia's opinion of him immediately augmented. Anyone who had a handshake as proper as his must be good at what he does. Her mind flitted over to Kurosaki, she hadn't even touched his hand yet…

 

The thought was immediately banished from her mind. Never in a million years did she ever want to get that close to him. Plus it would be difficult considering his new “five-foot” rule.

 

“I work in the foreign affairs department for Suigetsu Inc.” He informed her proudly.

 

“It's nice to meet you,” she said, and for the first time in a long time, it was actually true. He seemed like an actually decent guy. He was intelligent, well-groomed, and polite. What more could Rukia ask for in a possible ally against Kurosaki.

 

Then again, she thought sourly, they look like they're… friends? She looked from one to the other. Were they friends? Ishida looked like he could barely tolerate Kurosaki and Kurosaki looked like he was constantly annoyed by Ishida. Maybe there was a `tolerate-and-hate' thing going on between them.

 

“Thank you for helping Kurosaki carry my desk into this decrepit office.” She said, smiling lovingly.

 

“Hey!” Kurosaki barked from his seat at his own desk. He was clicking a few things around on his computer while only pretending to ignore the conversation in front of him.

 

“It was my pleasure and might I just say,” he gave a sideways glance at Kurosaki, “You're not nearly as horrid as Ichigo said you were.”

 

An icy glare entered her eyes and Rukia silently swore to make her new partner pay with his life. “I'm not sure I should thank you for that.”

 

“Oh don't worry,” he breezed over, “I was quite sure that he was lying anyway.” He shot Kurosaki a glare and said conversationally, “And for your information, Ichigo, she does not look anything like a hag.”

 

Rukia's good manners melted away and her skin bristled. She turned her head as far away from the orange-headed idiot as she could get and gritted her teeth together. The desk, she had to remind herself, was a type of peace offering. She just had to keep her temper in check until Ishida left.

 

Then she could yell at him.

 

“Well,” she answered testily, “I'm glad you don't believe things without seeing them for yourself first.”

 

“When it comes to Ichigo,” he said, “I have to see it before I even consider taking his word.”

 

Rukia smiled as they continued their mindless chatter. It was a common practice among lawyers; unless you were actually discussing something of dire importance then you stuck to the topics that were relatively safe. The weather, for instance, or coworkers—nothing to suggest gossip of course—or the job, and even the bosses, if you were bored. Rukia, of course, couldn't talk about her job at the moment—although she wouldn't put it past Kurosaki to go on and tell everyone he knew about the merger—so she stuck with the few acceptable topics that were left.

 

By the time Ishida pronounced that he had `better get home' the subject of the weather had come up three times. Rukia was practically bored off of her feet just by talking to this guy. But it had to be done; unless she knew got to know him better she could not dig any deeper than the superficial `safe zones.'

 

Ishida left her and her Kurosaki standing alone in their office. The tense silence between the two of them was almost overpowering. Neither one could deny the feelings of loathing that were passing between them. Dissatisfaction and unhappiness radiated around the room until Rukia felt she needed to get out before it choked her.

 

“How are we going to do this?” She demanded softly. The softly part was for his benefit alone, after all, he had brought up her desk. Although she would make sure that the benevolence she was bestowing upon him this evening would be gone tomorrow morning.

 

She turned to him and found him rifling through the files in his desk drawers. Rukia felt a hot whoosh of glee when she realized the look on his face was one of confusion and agitation.

 

And so begins the battle with the filing system from hell.

 

“We get here at eight thirty,” he began, still searching in the papers while ignoring Rukia's vocal outburst at the unthinkable time, “We work moderately hard, none of this `must finish immediately' bullshit or making deadlines that are impossible to meet. I intend to actually have a life while doing this thing.” He looked up and glared fully at her, “That means I will not be coming in on Saturdays or Sundays, I will not work until eight, and I will not negotiate this. All your opinions are rejected.”

 

“You can't be serious!” She exploded, throwing her hand up into the air in anger. “I want to finish quickly so I can have my own office back! Why wouldn't you want that too?”

 

“Because I would like to keep my social life,” he grumbled.

 

“Yeah right,” she muttered under her breath, “It's more like a social orgy than a social life.”

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Nothing you would be able to comprehend.”

 

“Well here's a novel idea, just stop talking.”

 

Rukia rolled her eyes, “Please, are these really your only verbal skills? Basic bickering? If I wanted that all I'd have to do is visit the primate section of the zoo.”

 

He smirked and gave her the once over, “Yeah… but primates aren't half as pretty as I am.”

 

“You'd be surprised.” She grumbled dryly.

 

“I heard that one,” he snapped.

 

“I made sure you did,” she smiled sweetly. Her false smile darkened and she returned to the topic at hand, “Honestly Kurosaki, it would be better to burn ourselves out while doing the work now… as quickly as we can. That way when we finish we can blow off steam knowing that we will never have to set eyes on one another again.”

 

He leaned against the desk, momentarily abandoning his file search. He shook his head like he was saying `no' to a petulant child instead of a fully grown woman. “See, I'm more of a step by step kind of guy and you… well you just can't do all the work by yourself.”

 

“Really?” She challenged, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring at him.

 

“Really.” He nodded, smirking lightly. “Because the last time I checked, you and I both need to sign off on our progress reports and well, gosh darn it, I just wouldn't feel right signing off on something I didn't actually do.”

 

His mocking words resonated in Rukia's brain and she growled.

 

“Come on Kuchiki,” he said, his voice laced with joking hostility. “As long as we keep to our respective sides of this place I think we'll do just fine.”

 

She paused and pursed her lips together. Kurosaki was standing at his desk, looking pompous and arrogant and smug as he rested his hip against the mahogany. Her temper flared disgustedly but she reeled it back in.

 

Her eyes roved over him the way an evaluator would look over an antique. She wondered bleakly if the disgusted twisting in her gut would ever go away when she looked at him. She doubted it. He was a grotesque thing… always baiting her, always making her temper rise, always aggravating her… maybe it was like crack to him. Maybe he just liked making people mad. Maybe it gave him some sort of high.

 

Oh but how she wished she could just attack him. Rukia Kuchiki did not lack verbally or physically in any kind of capacity. If she wanted to she could stab him with words. She could assault him with an array of verbs, adjectives, and nouns so fierce that it would take him a week with an Oxford dictionary just to figure out all the ways she'd insulted him.

 

Not to mention she could also have him on his back in three seconds flat. She might be tiny but she could be considered a hellion in any fight. Not that she had ever been in an actual altercation that wasn't provoked for training purposes. But she was quite certain that if Kurosaki ever decided to irritate her physically she would be able to put him in his proper place.

 

Irritate me physically? She thought awkwardly, sounds like he would be only poking me. But even then I guess I would probably break his finger.

 

God she wished she could hurt him now. She wanted to wipe that punky smile off of his face with a quick upper cut to the chin. She drew in a deep breath and sighed. But no, being raised as a Kuchiki meant that she had to abide by the rules of the Kuchiki House.

 

The number one rule just had to be to act proper at all times, no matter what the situation. The following rules also dictated social etiquette as well as manners of speaking and posture. It was all very ridiculous but Rukia did have to admit… all those Kuchiki Rules did help her get to where she was now.

 

That and my brain. She reminded herself.

 

“Alright Kurosaki,” she said to him in a firm voice. “I'll agree… but if you violate any of these terms I will be the one setting down the rules. Understand?” Her eyes became as hard as diamonds. “And, in case you're wondering, by violate I mean being more than five minutes late.”

 

“I really don't like you.”

 

“Dually noted.”

 

He pursed his lips together and sent her a now-famous glare. “Fine.”

 

Rukia nodded curtly and turned away from him. She gathered her things and began tugging on her coat. She would just go home; it was nearly six anyway.

 

His voice stopped her before she could get out of the door.

 

“Yes?” She answered curtly.

 

His eyes were puzzles once again. He looked down at the files in his desk and then glanced back up at her. “What the hell did you do to all of my files?”

 

The corner of her mouth quirked up, “You want to know?”

 

His mouth pulled itself into a tight line. “Obviously.” He stressed.

 

She turned her nose up at him and cocked an eyebrow, “Then come in tomorrow at eight thirty and I'll tell you.”

 

With that said, Rukia Kuchiki turned on her heel and exited the office. She passed the cleaning crew and steadily walked to the elevator. She couldn't help thinking that this exit was much more dignified than the one she had experienced on Monday.

 

 

 

 

(A/N: Yay! Chapter finished! And on my new computer too; I'm getting used to it now but I'm kind of pining for my old one.

Anyway…

Bastion: I'm in the limbo between finishing high school and starting college. Can't wait for August! :D

Sato Miki: Welcome! And have no fear, I too am destined to become a cat lady, I already have the names of my six future cats picked out. And no, I'm not kidding. ;P

OmniPotent: I like to work ahead just so I have a tiny cushion to fall back on, right now the cushion is… two and a half chapters. But I shall continue to torture you guys by taking it slow. :P

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! 92 for only 6 chapters! I appreciate every comment I get and kiss your cyber feet.

So, once again, enjoy and please REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!!!

Tituba.)