Chapter Text
The room dropped a few degrees as soon as she entered.
Their spirit energy mingled, and neither of them made a move to control the swirl of cold. Looks were exchanged, although no words of any significance were spoken. Tōshirō waited patiently for Rukia to finish her nightly routine. He laid his head on her lap once she finally crawled into their shared futon.
She remained seated, while he settled against her legs. The rest of his body was spread horizontally, taking up as much space as possible. Despite the largeness of their bedding, he was tall enough that his legs still touched the cold tatami mats. Tōshirō sighed in relief as soon as he got comfortable. He looked up at her with tired, but alert eyes. Rukia angled her head down to meet his gaze.
"How was work?" he asked.
"Quiet. Just paperwork mostly."
Tōshirō wrinkled his nose, not even wanting to imagine the stacks waiting for him upon his return. A part of him hoped that Matsumoto at least attempted to dent his workload, but he'd been disappointed too many times before to let that thought take root. It was more likely that she took long cat naps every day. He already knew how his conversation with her would go tomorrow—a back-and-forth about work and health, until she'd eventually claim that she was waiting for an explicit order from him. Tōshirō wouldn't trade his lieutenant for the world, but there were days when he seriously considered hiring a super lieutenant like what Ninth Division Captain Muguruma Kensei had. Except the sole responsibility of his would be handling all of the administrative tasks that Matsumoto thought too tedious to do.
His thoughts were interrupted by fingers running through his hair. Teal met violet. Rukia massaged his scalp for a while, before pressing her cool hand against his forehead, easing the remnants of the fever that he'd been suffering through for the last day and a half. Tōshirō didn't even think it was possible for him to get a fever. He'd never had one in his—admittedly—short life as a soul reaper, but there was a first for everything he supposed.
"Your eyebrows are furrowed," she said, amused. "You're supposed to be resting. Not giving yourself a headache."
Tōshirō consciously smoothed out his expression. "I've been in bed too long."
"Really? A few of your subordinates said they saw you in the courtyard meditating."
"I didn't say I was in bed all day."
Rukia's lips curved into a crooked grin. She didn't verbally admonish him for his actions. Instead, her fingers delved back into his hair and gave the white strands a tug. He grunted. Not in pain, but because he knew that if she didn't see a reaction, then she'd pull harder.
"That hurts," he lied, then faked another grunt when she did it again.
"You're lying."
"You're not the one whose hair is being pulled."
She yanked, and this time, he hissed. That one actually did sting. Her fingers massaged his scalp after, and although it made the pain dissipate faster, it didn't help the slight twinge of annoyance he felt.
"Rukia…" Tōshirō glared, dangerous.
She met his stare head-on. The icy defiance in her eyes never failed to make a thrill run down his spine. "Don't try that wilting gaze on me. I'm a captain, not your subordinate. Every member from the Fourth Division that we consulted about this strange fever told you to stay in bed."
"I'm fine."
"You're not," she shot back.
Tōshirō clicked his tongue, but didn't refute that. He went on defense instead. "I was just meditating."
"In a light robe. It's freezing outside. Your temperature has been fluctuating too wildly for you to be going out in thin clothes."
How did she find that out? Tōshirō didn't know which of his subordinates saw him, but he was going to drown them in work when he found out.
"I had a scarf," he said, while shrugging as best he could in his position.
Rukia's eyes narrowed.
It was mind-boggling, how quickly the tender atmosphere between them could become charged, and before they knew it, they'd be arguing. But this was different. This wasn't a real fight. This was reproach—plain and simple. Tōshirō really hated being scolded by Rukia. She had this way of doing it that struck his core even when the matter was something as banal as this.
Even so, he made no move to pull away.
This would pass. He just had to wait.
Three, two, o—
Rukia sighed, alternately resentful and resigned. Her fingers brushed his forehead, checking his temperature. She rubbed the proud bridge of his nose with her thumb, while her free hand settled on his chest. Tōshirō knew enough about her to know that she was focusing on the strong, repeated thump of his heart. Assurance, if nothing else. A reminder that he was alive and getting better with each passing hour.
"Stubborn," she muttered under her breath. There was annoyance in her tone, although he heard love in it, too. Rukia bent down to press a momentary kiss against his lips.
"The cold is good for me," Tōshirō said when she pulled away. "Why do you think I like it when you're around?"
Her cheeks colored even as she glared at him. "I'm not going to stay here and take care of you if you wake up feeling worse."
"Now who's lying?"
"Tōs—"
"You're stubborn, too. Stop arguing." Tōshirō made sure to interrupt, before she could say his name. He still hadn't managed to find a good defense against that. He closed his eyes and grabbed her hand, before she could even think about moving it away from his forehead. "And stop worrying. Can't you feel me? I already feel better. I'll be in perfect condition tomorrow. So just…"
Tōshirō reached up, so that he was cupping the back of her neck. He brought her down. Rukia didn't resist, not even when his cool breath fanned over her face and her lips. He whispered in the scant space left between them. Words that were only for her to hear.
"Be here for me now." His eyes met hers, and he smirked. "Think you can do that without arguing, Kuchiki?"
The way she suddenly threw him off of her was expected. Tōshirō laughed, loud and virile, at her red face. He moved quick. It only took him a moment to have Rukia pinned beneath him. He let his full weight fall over her, and she made a huffing sound that sounded something between displeased and indignant.
"You're impossible," he told her between chuckles.
"I'm impossible? You're the one tha—"
He saw anger spark in her eyes when he grabbed her cheeks and squeezed—hard—to get her to stop talking.
"Sorry? I didn't catch that."
Tōshirō grinned boyishly at her furious expression. Before she could yell at him with that scathing tongue of hers, he bent down so that their noses touched. Her eyes were so bright and so wild that he couldn't help the flicker of warmth that speared through his chest. Right now, all he saw was her. He liked it best that way. Even if she was giving him a look that promised bruises if he didn't get off of her soon.
That wasn't an option though.
He opted to cool her fury instead. There was always a surefire way to do that.
"This look," he touched her face. "I love this look."
Rukia turned her head away from him, already knowing what he was doing. "You're so… unfair."
"So are you."
She groaned. He knew that she hated how they could call each other out for the exact same things. "You always throw everything I say back at me."
"It's not my fault we match."
"It's infuriating."
"Just do what I do." Tōshirō moved so that he was beside her instead of on top. He faced her on the pillow. "Start taking them for what they are."
"And what's that?"
"Compliments."