paixaorpg | Playing House.

Entry tags:

Playing House.

Characters: Matsumoto Rangiku, Ichimaru Gin
Content: Two shinigami in a city.
Setting: a room in the Actua Are (located near the center of Paixao)
Time: Late Evening.
Warnings: None yet.

She looked down at the keys of her journal and watched as the cursor blinked repeatedly back at her. She'd gotten off work almost two hours before. Her shift had ended and she'd handed in her apron, her cart and everything else that she used as a member of the Actua Are's housekeeping staff.

It wasn't exactly what she would have imagined for herself, given who she was and what she was, but anything to keep a roof over her head (and consequently, that of Gin's) was alright by her. Looking up from what she was supposed to be doing (documenting her day to day activities as she had been doing for some time now) she lifted one hand to push aside the window curtains of the room.

Between her taking shifts for housekeeping and Gin doing his job at the Porfavore's and the hotel management's generosity, she was just grateful they had a place to stay that didn't involve dusty floors or empty rooms at the top of some other building or another.

Gin. His face came to mind and she nibbled down on her bottom lip. Things had been relatively better between them ever since they talked on the rooftop awhile back. She was staying with him both to keep and eye on him and because it just felt good to be running alongside him again.

Like the good old days.

She exhaled and turned back to her journal, sat down on the bed and proceeded to type, belatedly remembering that the keys were definitely too small.

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It had been, in so many words, a long day. Gin had known people to be naturally fussy when it came to food, but over the course of the day, the citizens of Paixao had proven to be extra picky. The ex-captain couldn't remember a time when he had wanted to go back "home" so badly. He supposed this was why humans were usually so frustrated right after getting out of work.

Untying his apron and folding it as neatly as he could care to do, the silver-haired man set about his routine clean-up duties. At first, he hadn't been so keen on cleaning up, if only because there was a whole other shift right after his, but he had found it to be wonderfully brain numbing after a while.

Twenty two minutes later and the distinct sound of the clock out bell could be heard as he withdrew the tiny paper.

"Leavin'? Well, goodnight then." The host at the front nodded his goodbye, mouth turning upward slightly.

"Saa, g'night." Ichimaru responded before exiting the restaurant to head back to "home" and to well... Ran.

Walking back to the hotel was a nice fifteen minute travel. As he stepped through the glass doors, the lobby attendant half-heartedly waved. Gin didn't really notice, he was too focused on getting to his room. Down the hall, take a left-- it was the third door that way. Key jangled a little as he turned and pulled the knob slightly before it unlocked. A trick he had learned in his time here.

Small little tapping noises could be heard upon his entrance. Ran was probably typing in her journal, as usual. A habit he had noticed rather quickly in their time together. As he took off his shoes, the skinny shinigami found himself wondering what exactly she typed in those journals. Of course, he could always look... but that wasn't as fun as finding out from the source.

"Rannnnnn~ 'm home." His voice was slightly sing-song, reflecting his relief at being not at work. Striding over to the bed the blonde woman was perched upon, he took a seat, springs creaking a little under the added weight. Arms reached out, curling lightly around her waist as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

"Whatcha doin'?"

She knew that he'd come back the moment he'd walked into the hotel itself. Tamped down as their spiritual energy was, a stray sliver of energy or two couldn't be ignored. Still, it was nice to feel him close at hand.

"Nothing much," she murmured softly and shut the journal. It wasn't as if she'd written anything at all - which she hadn't. Shifting around she turned her face up to his. "You look tired."

"Mmm, kinda am." His voice was somewhat muffled as he buried his nose in her hair. It always smelled so nice. Vaguely of raspberries, even if her shampoo was a different scent.

"Should' I plan ta wake up soon?"

She shrugged briefly and sighed audibly. "Up to you. If you don't have to head in early tomorrow, maybe it would be better if you caught up on your sleep." She offered him a whisper of a smile and stood to set the journal aside. As she passed him, her fingers reached out, skimming their tips along the line of his jaw. A deliberate act of touching and contact. A deliberate act that made each breath in his presence easier and made her consider that maybe confiding things in him wouldn't be as difficult as before.

Early as it was, maybe she could rock the boat sitting comfortably in the lake that was here and now. They were playing house, she understood that; just like long ago, when feet and hands were smaller and 'shinigami' they had yet to be.

His hand came up to catch hers as she ran her fingertips along his jawline. Eyes opened just slightly as he brought her hand to his lips, gracing those same ends with a kiss. Light, airy, just barely touching. Very like his nature, when he reflected on it.

"'m not too tired, y'see." His smile widened as he threw the first line out, waiting for the pull. Gin wasn't entirely sure she'd take the bait (Ran was very shrewd like that sometimes), but he figured he'd give it a try. After all, in their little game of "house" (and really, in their minds and maybe hearts if Ichimaru really thought about it), they were as good as married. Husband and wife, two halves of a whole.

He just kinda sorta hoped she felt the same way.

She set the journal down in a drawer and shut it softly with the use of both hands. "Oh," was her only answer when he brought up not being tired. "Well then," she started, unsure as to what was the appropriate thing to say. "Are you hungry?" She asked as she turned around, the words tumbling awkwardly from her lips. "We could ask... for something," she tried to salvage her trail of thought, but fell headlong into the spiel anyway, "down at the kitchen."

She paused briefly. Considering. "If you like."

They hadn't been alone like this in so long it felt partially alien to her. In the academy, schooling had taken up most of their time, leaving very little opportunity to be alone with each other in the way of their youth. They made friends with different people, and while remaining considerably close over the passing years, the politics of their friendship had changed in accordance to the lifestyle that they had become accustomed to. Gin had become Vice-Captain long before she had risen considerably up the ranks as a shinigami of some talent and acclaim, and then later still when he'd been promoted to Captain-rank, she had only recently been assigned as Hitsugaya's second.

She always knew that he was the stronger of the two of them despite his seemingly frail appearance. He was the more vicious and ambitious as well. He was resourceful and intelligent, while she was often just perceived as carefree and game for any moment of vice -- which usually translated to many a night drinking in the company of others such as Shunsui and Kenpachi's band of merry men.

So different, that's who they were. Gin, quiet and unnerving, and she, perhaps best known for falling asleep when paperwork was to be done. Yet they had been friends.

When news of his betrayal had reached her, she'd been in denial for quite some time. At least, that's what she had told herself repeatedly even until the bitter end. When she'd held the blade to his throat she'd pictured someone else's face, and when he'd said goodbye in that rather vague way of his, she'd blocked the image from view while recuperating under Unohana's care.

And now, here they were. Sharing a room to be sheltered from elements that never bothered them before; working odd jobs justto get by in a city that was so foreign with it's strange technologies and even strager, blank-faced people. Of course, there were others out there: people with eyes that were alive and hair that were not the color of bleached gold... but in here there was just her and him. The two of them; and that scared her.

Looking at him from where she stood, she feels just a little bit ashamed. Their friendship is tainted with ugly scars, and at the center of those scars is a man called Aizen who pretended to be dead. A man who has done much harm to the peace that she knew.

"Why did you..." she begins. And she ends her words just as abruptly.

A part of Gin withdrew, eyes now pointedly focused on a spot on the wall. He had known the question would come up, but hearing it left him grasping for words, and explanation, anything. Briefly, a guilty expression flitted across his features before it dropped to being passive once more. Long fingers fidgeted absently with the bed covering for a moment, still trying to force words to work themselves out of his throat.

"I thought I knew 'im." Gin responded quietly, the only sign of his discomfort and self-mocking visible through the small crease on his brow. Truly, he had thought he had known Aizens intentions. Perhaps it was his ego that had gotten him into such a mess, then. Aizen had turned the tables around so much that Ichimaru couldn't tell back from front-- quite a feat to best his perception. The ex-captain did not appreciate it when Sousuke sometimes blind-sided him. It was simply inexcusable.

((OOC: :"))) Yay post!))

She watched him, eyes focused on his face and fully aware of the flicker of unease that had crossed his features only moments before. For some odd reason she thought back to their youth, when that similar expression would come and go though she had been unaware of the reasons behind.

"Gin," she murmured softly as she walked over, one hand reaching out to tilt his chin up. Out of the corner of her eye she could see how they looked, reflected in the glass of the mirror on the dresser. Her heart hitched just a little and she gave into impulse, back curving as she slid her arms over his shoulders, her lips meeting his.

His green eyes met her blue ones, and there was a small sort of tension between them. Anxiety gripped him for a split-second, but it soon disappeared. Her arms slid around his shoulders, and their lips met. They had been working towards this moment over the centuries, though he was steadily forgetting just why they had waited so long. Gin kissed her back, the motion soothing, insistent-- it said everything he wanted to tell her, but couldn't find the words to do so.

His hands fell to her waist, tugging her closer.

"Ran--" He whispered against her lips, gaze half-lidded.

She sat down beside him, her mouth leaving his only briefly before their lips met again. If things could just be like this, simple and uncomplicated, she... wasn't quite sure what she would do but she knew that she felt at ease. For now she was just happy to know that they were meeting each other halfway and that for the moment there was no need to fret over anything else.

Rangiku pulled back and reached up to idly brush away the silver strands that fell into his eyes. They were open now, and honest, she wanted to think, and when her hand moved to cup his cheek, she felt her courage leave her. In place of something to say, she just smiled at him and wound her arms around his torso, leaning her head on his shoulder.

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Playing House.

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