Do Words Make a Bit of Difference?

A black haired Shinigami used hands roughened and scarred from countless sword battles to carefully turn page after page of a stack of papers she’d found in a locked drawer. Her eyes darted back and forth as she hastily read the words so carefully written in a hand now almost as familiar as her own. The utter quiet, the stillness was only occasionally broken by the sound of a western-style pen scratching upon brightly colored Post-It notes. Some of these she pressed to the edges of a select few of the pages.

Her head whipped up and she cocked it to the side. With efficient movements she gathered the papers back in their neat pile, tied the twine hastily around the pile and put the stack back in the drawer she’d found them in. When the front door slid open with a whisper of sound she was already out of the office and in the bright kitchen sipping tea and giving every appearance of having been diligently looking over reports from the World of the Living. He hated it when she invaded his office.

A man wearing a white haori over a black Shinigami uniform seemed to sniff the air before he bent to kiss the inch or so of skin at her neck revealed by the drooping collar of her purple yukata. She hummed appreciatively when his lips made contact and she reached back to slide her fingers along a white band, pushing it up and off. Then she ran her fingers through his bright red hair. The black thong that tied it back loosened quickly under her fingers and a mass of pure crimson fell freely down the man’s broad back. The two exchanged a few words of greeting quietly and he nuzzled her neck once more for good measure.

Their smiles were soft as he straightened and made his way to the backdoor. For a few minutes the short, thin woman sat completely still, listening as the door hissed open on its track and he padded to the tub. He was habitually quiet and she prided herself on being able to hear him, on being able to track his almost undetectable movements. When she stood, her own motions were fluid and graceful as she got up to trail after him.

He’d already flung his haori to the floor and had just gotten the first of the ties on his uniform undone. Her lips pursed as she admired the play of the muscles of his back, as first his black kosode then his white one was carelessly dropped on the slatted wooden floor. Tattoos in varying shapes and sizes slid over his skin, emphasizing the lines of his body.

He brushed his hair back after he undid his hakama and the red length of it shone in the light of the setting sun. It was long again, fluttering around his slim waist and her fingers itched to touch it. As his hakama slid down a tight, round ass and over thighs that were well-defined, long and also adorned with black markings, she forgot to breathe for a moment.

He turned slightly and she saw the small smirk that edged his lips. “Like what you see?” Renji asked teasingly. If he was vain, he truly had every right to be. Other men had never appealed to her sense of esthetics as this one did, all long and lean and radiating raw power.

“You know I do,” she laughed as he toed off his tabi.

He climbed into the wooden tub and gestured for her to follow him. He turned a handle and the sound of rushing water filled the immediate vicinity. She shrugged off her yukata, her creamy skin turned a pinkish hue by the late afternoon light. At her shoulders and along her clavicles a few halfmoon shaped purplish marks marred her skin, but she didn’t mind them in the slightest. They were, after all, marks that showed his claim on her, so she never bothered to heal them after he made them. Besides, he had quite a few of her own making hidden among his tattoos. She slid into the warm water and settled comfortably next to the man she loved.

She helped him wash his hair, her hands massaging his scalp just the way he liked it. After she’d rinsed it, their hands strayed to each others bodies occasionally. Although his erection strained to be touched, she didn’t make the intimate contact he craved, and neither did he.

“Not yet,” they whispered, as they touched other places instead. Along his spine, the curve of her hip, the nape of his neck, the hollow behind her bended knee. “Not yet,” as water splashed over the edge of the tub and bubbles popped around them. The sweetest form of torture, anticipation.

This time she was the one smirking since he was the first to give in and growled, “Rukia. I need you.” It never failed to make her tingle when he said her name with such need and urgency. She shifted away, wanting to prolong the encounter, enjoying the quiet time with him. His gaze was heavy on her skin, like a caress. On a whim she got up and made to get out of the tub. His arm quickly snaked around her middle as he yanked her back into the water. She giggled uncharacteristically and knew he loved it when she allowed herself to be silly.

He maneuvered her to sit atop him, kneeling so her knees rested on either side of his hips in a position in which they faced each other. She used one hand to brush his hair back as she used the other to position him at her entrance. Their eyes were riveted to each other as she lowered herself ever-so-slowly. His fingers dug almost painfully into her ribs as she allowed herself to be filled by his length.

The combined sensation is the water and him was enough to send her hurtling headfirst into the orgasm without delay. With anyone else the lack of control would have been embarrassing, but he just smiled like they were ten and he’d just won a game of futsal.

She blushed a little, blood heating her cheeks and he was struck again by her beauty. For all his mistakes and missteps he had the sense that he must’ve done something right. He secured his grip under her ass and rose carefully out of the bathtub while she squealed girlishly. Years ago, when they'd first ventured upon this insane journey together, he’d never thought that he’d ever hear both a giggle and a squeal all in one day, but the last few years with her had brought them close and lightened a burden they both carried.

It hadn't always been roses and happy times since she'd so forcefully inserted herself back into his life. They argued, sometimes so loudly and fiercely he was certain everybody in the Seireitei coud hear them both screaming at the tops of their lungs. She was still stubborn, and he still hadn't learned to keep his mouth shut, so they'd probably always piss each other off. He couldn't imagine how he'd gone so long without having her give him the evil eye, though.

Renji put Rukia gently on her feet and grabbed a soft towel from a stack. He swiftly rubbed her down, allowing his hands to linger over her breasts and between her legs as he dried her off. She did the same for him, standing on the wet steps on her tip toes to reach his face and hair. As her small hands travelled down his body, he hardened further and she grinned unabashedly as she paid extra attention to drying his sac and his length.

“Is that for me?” she asked as she looked at him from under her lashes.

Unable to hold back any longer, he lifted her back up and she wound her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. A simple shift of her hips and he was buried to the hilt in her heat and wetness. He fought the urge to just take her where he stood and went inside.

They had fun together, as odd as it still was for him to even admit that. So many years pining, lusting, yearning for her, hungering and denying himself anything enjoyable and now… Now he got to come home to her every night. As he carried her to the bedroom they’d shared for a fair number of years he reflected how much his life had changed. It was like he’d spent years trying to breathe under water and when she burst back into his life he was finally able to come up for air.

He didn’t even mind that years of living with servants had left her something of a slob, and that she sometimes left her uniforms and underwear wherever they may fall and left dishes and cups everywhere. Technically, she still lived at the Manor with her brother, but more often than not she ended up spending the night with him. More often than not, she was there when he got home, and that was just fine with him. He sometimes wondered what Byakuya Kuchiki thought of her spending all her free with him.

He was still buried deep inside her by the time they finally made it to the bedroom. The floor was partially covered with discarded clothes. Amusement filtered through his arousal as he surveyed the chaos. “I thought you said you were going to clean up a little today,” he said with a smile as she shifted and gripped him tighter.

She smirked unapologetically and said “I lied.”

“I should spank you for that, you know,” he whispered into her ear as he lowered them unto the bed. They were still intimately attached and the motion caused all sorts of delicious friction as the mattress dipped under their combined weight. Her hands were again busy pushing his still damp hair back from his face and the smile she gave him was nothing short of beatific.

“You know I love it when you do,” she replied huskily.

Gods, but he adored this wanton woman under him, he thought dazedly as her hips lifted slightly. Their union wasn’t conventional, since there wasn't any formal ties binding them, but it worked, they worked. It wasn’t even just about the way they came together; it was about the way they were together. The sex was amazing, sure, but just coming home and finding her there was enough to make him happy. Cheesy and corny, definitely, but true nonetheless.

Any thoughts either of them had abruptly stopped when one of the strokes he made hit a certain spot inside her, causing her walls to clench tightly around him. He gasped as she reached up and sank her nails into the scarred flesh at his shoulders. He’d first been injured there when he fought her brother so many years ago. That he was alive to walk around, much less function at the level of a captain was nothing short of astounding.

Their hips jerked in unison as they drove each other closer to the point of no return. It didn’t matter how many times they’d performed this dance, it was still new every single time and it was still incredible. Their voices called out each others names over and over. Her pulse hammered a fast and steady beat, visible at that soft point on her neck.

He’d seen the bruises she bore, and they aroused and ashamed him by turns, but he couldn't quite help himself. His mouth settled over the mottled skin and she hummed appreciatively. When he bit her she came on a wail, gripping his length rhythmically and he lost the hold on his control and followed her over the edge.

They lay panting in the aftermath, still joined though he was limp inside her. Wetness seeped into the sheet under them and he rolled them over so he was on his back under her. He ran his hand up and down her back, feeling the soft skin and hard muscle and unyielding bones under his finger tips. Her chest expanded as she sighed and the warmth of her breath tickled across his tattoos.

“I love you, Renji,” she said as she pushed herself up to stare into the eyes of the man the boy she’d loved as a child had become. She wondered if she had the courage to change things again. If she dared to ask the question that had been burning her insides since she’d snuck into his house years ago, the question he'd asked so many years ago. She knew, though they’d never talked about it, that he wouldn’t ask her again. His eyes were warm and full of a softness he had only ever shown her.

She wanted at that moment, more than anything, to be his. She wanted him to be hers. Even though everybody already knew that they were together, she wanted the formality. The security. The finality. She wasn’t scared of it, like she’d been when he’d first asked her so long ago.

She thought of the stack of papers locked away in a desk drawer and gathered her courage around her with a deep breath. “Be mine, Renji?” she asked with a hopeful look.

He looked confused as he said, “I thought I already was.”

She remembered the look of shame, of horror, of hopelessness on his face the instant before she ran away from him after he’d asked for her hand and shored up her courage to clarify. “You are, but I meant…” she wondered why it was so hard to say four words. “Will you marry me?”

She wasn’t sure who looked more shocked. Her, that she’d finally gotten the nerve to ask him, or him as he goggled at her, mouth agape and eyes comically wide. She rolled off of him quickly and left the room before he had a chance to recover. When she came back, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face. She had a stack of papers in her hand, brightly colored Post-It notes peaking out of the edges. He looked up and his heart stopped.

How long had it been since he’d even thought about that sheaf of his innermost thoughts, his confessions, and more importantly what had he written down exactly? He wavered between horrified and horrifically confused. Rukia’s words, her sudden proposal still swirled in his mind and those papers she held only increased his discomfort. Why did she want to go and change what they had, he wondered. Wasn’t it good enough, wasn’t he good enough as he was?

His reaction worried Rukia. Somehow, when she’d first thought about the possibility of asking for him to marry her, this sort of shocked silence wasn’t exactly the reaction she'd hoped he’d have. Her fingers shook slightly as she untangled the knotted string holding the ream of papers together. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment as she flipped to the page with the neon pink Post-It note she hoped would explain her feelings. The other pages she needed were neatly folded at the top. It was usually so easy to talk with Renji, and she wondered briefly if marriage could possibly be worth the dreadful, awkward silence that had sprung between them.

Her voice was wavery and the words stuttered in her throat as she read, “I love you, Rukia Kuchiki, more than anything, more than freedom, more than life itself. Please,” I clambered off the squishy pillow and knelt before her, my forehead brushing the ground at her feet. “Please, do me the greatest honor of consenting to become my wife,” there I’d spilled it all, finally. I might as well have stripped naked and performed an interpretive dance number while waving a banner that said ‘I’m a fool for you’. I wouldn’t have minded that last bit, but Nii-sama might have. Renji…” she said with a small smile, hoping that he would look at her. Her hands had miraculously somehow steadied as she placed her callused index finger under his chin and pushed up so he finally looked at her. She knew what she had to do.

His hair had fallen across his face, but she could see his eyes. They were burning and she took a strange sort of comfort in the strength of the emotion shining in his gaze. She peeled the Post-It note off the paper, and handed it to him. He looked confused, but looked down to read it.

Renji Abarai, I love you. Always have, always will. When my hair is white and my boobs brush my navel, I know I’ll only have made it that far because of you. I should have said yes right then. Marry me?

He looked up and she was dancing naked (although it looked more like she was having a seizure while upright) waving a couple of pieces of taped together paper. She stopped at his sharp bark of laughter, her eyes twinkling.

He stood up and she dropped the makeshift banner and jumped on him. “Okay, since you insist, Rukia,” he said as her legs wound around his waist and her arms wrapped around his neck.

The taped together pieces of paper fluttered unnoticed to the floor as a black haired Shinigami kissed the breath out of a much larger, red haired Shinigami. The five words on the long strip of paper said “I’m A Fool For You.”

~*~

OK, so this chapter had it's own mini-soundtrack. Blanket statement: DON'T OWN ANY OF THE FOLLOWING SONGS or make any money from them, either. Obvs, there's chapter title, by Cake. It's is goofy, but sweet enough for the little dance at the end particularly.
To round out this musical tour of the chapter we've got 'Let Me Ride' by Scribe. I just love his stuff. 'Pug' by Smashing Pumpkins and 'Love Song' by the Cure.

So it's been a somewhat depressing, but awesomely fun ride guys, but after much internal debate and back and forth with my muse, (the fickle bitch) this is the end. That said, I am quite happy about my happy ending. I hope that my need for sentimental, 'good guy doesn't finish last' thing doesn't upset anybody. And if it does, well boo for you.

I'm probably going to do a few little one-shot type things maybe from Rukia's POV or maybe something about the wedding. I dunno, but I do know it's not the last we'll see of these two.

Much love and mad props to my reviewers... Said it before, but I'll just say it again, you guys are all so awesome. So SexyBleach, Polymer, Emcielle, Miss-Asuka, Emmie_Chan849, Bill, Arei, Gummie, brainfear and Mevenia, I Thank You, sincerely and from the bottom of my heart.

Review, and tell me what your thoughts are.