Vermilion [Byakuya/Yoruichi, PG]
Feb. 14th, 2011 08:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
unwritten_iconsCharacters: Byakuya/Yoruichi, mentions of others
Rating: PG
Summary: He forgot Valentine's Day.
Genre: Romance
A/N: This is a modern day AU.
He forgot Valentine’s Day.
Byakuya stares blankly at the calendar on his monitor.
He forgot Valentine’s Day.
The young CEO rubs his temples.
He forgot Valentine’s Day!
Yoruichi is going to strangle him. Better yet, she is going to shove whatever inexcusably late gift he gets her down his throat, and then strangle him. Byakuya can see the headlines now: CEO of Kuchiki Inc found dead in home, strangled by fiancé.
How could he have forgotten? Byakuya Kuchiki is punctual as punctual can get. He never forgets anything. Last July, he even got his little sister’s insufferable boyfriend, Ichigo Kurosaki, a gift for his birthday. Every important date is written down in his planner and set as a reminder in his Blackberry.
Byakuya groans.
“Well, Mr. Kuchiki, you could always order something now.”
The dark haired man looks up to Yoruichi’s assistant, Rangiku Matsumoto, white blouse doing nothing to hide her cleavage. She smoothes a wrinkle in her pencil skirt and tosses a lock of golden hair over one shoulder. Her Jimmy Choo heels click click click as she walks to stand before his mahogany desk, setting paperwork there.
Byakuya purses his lips, meeting her blue gaze. Rangiku was the one who had introduced him to Yoruichi two years ago, after a drunken confession about how miserable he was. Being the self-proclaimed “Matchmaker Extraordinaire,” she made it a personal mission to find him a woman. Two weeks later, he was on a date with Yoruichi Shihouin, his then underpaid, overworked receptionist. Byakuya doesn’t like to admit that he owes this woman quite a lot. He would have never met his fiancé were it not for her.
Because of this, Byakuya sits back in his chair to listen.
She holds up one hand and counts on her fingers.
“The flower shops are probably all out of roses, so count that off.”
He nods and scribbles it on a notepad, resisting an urge to laugh. Yoruichi hates roses.
Once more, Rangiku’s heels click click as she begins pacing. Her reflection is thrown in a skewed ray of light on his hardwood office floor.
“She can eat like any man, but she doesn’t like sweets, does she?”
The CEO shakes his head, one dark lock of hair falling across his face. He straightens the indigo tie at his throat, tugs the sleeves of his suit down, a nervous habit.
Rangiku makes a thoughtful noise. Byakuya doesn’t like it one bit.
“You bought her jewelry last Valentine’s. Besides, you’ve got her enough diamonds to buy a small planet.”
His dark eyes rise to glare at her. Many people see his gifts as superfluous ways to spoil his fiancé, but Byakuya likes to think of it as reconciliation; Yoruichi is every bit a feline, a lioness in woman’s clothing, and when she wants something, she gets it. Otherwise, he may wake one day handcuffed to the bed, and not in the fun way.
Rangiku turns away from him, her long hair shining in the afternoon sun. Byakuya is neither blind nor impotent, and many times in the past cursed Gin Ichimaru for meeting Rangiku first. He doesn’t like her drinking habit and her brashness grates his nerves, but she is a kind and intelligent woman, amazing good-looks aside.
He feels more than sees a smile come to her full, cherry-glossed lips.
Byakuya tries to sink into the floor.
“You could always blow her mind with amazing sex, presents be damned.”
The CEO sets his pen down and looks at her sternly.
“No. You only want something to gossip about.”
She spins, and he’s amazed she hasn’t toppled over in those heels.
“That hurts, Mr. Kuchiki! You know perfectly well that I am not a gossip-monger when I can help it. It’s the wine that does it to me.”
Byakuya feels the need to point out the incorrectness of her statement, but declines. She and Kiyone Kotetsu gossip more than anyone he knows. Kiyone starts it, and Rangiku spreads it. Naturally, the young Kiyone works in the company café, and as such, comes into contact with his most important employees every day. Byakuya makes a mental note to give her a two-week vacation after today, if only to postpone the rumors he’s sure will be flying in mere hours.
The blonde woman huffs and crosses her arms beneath her impressive bosom. “I’m afraid I’m all out of ideas then, Mr. Kuchiki. I actually just came by to deliver today’s paperwork. I’m hoping for an ‘approved’ stamp on my request for a company spa, by the way.”
Byakuya gives her a look that clearly says you’re out of your mind.
She pouts and turns toward the door, glancing over her shoulder before leaving. “Either way, Mr. CEO, you better think of something quick, because your shift ends in four hours. Good luck.”
The dark haired man looks at his watch and frowns. Three hours and ten minutes, to be exact.
****
Three hours and ten minutes later, Byakuya is still empty handed.
He corrects himself a moment later.
He looks at the gift in his hand. It is nothing spectacular, only a single vermilion orchid – because Rangiku was right, the florists were out of roses – so he had settled on this. The orchid suits his fiancé, exotic, resilient, a classic symbol of wild beauty. He remembers a Valentine’s years ago, when he gave a camellia to his girlfriend Hisana, three months before her death in a car accident. The memory still burns.
Byakuya has no desire to drudge up long-gone memories, so he sets the blossom on the dashboard of his Lexus and starts the engine. The drive home is the longest he’s ever experienced; although Valentine’s Day is a Western holiday, Yoruichi and her fondness for other cultures makes today a much more important matter than usual. Her friend Kisuke Urahara is American and frequently sends her expensive American-made handbags, shoes, and sunglasses, but by what means Byakuya doesn’t care to know.
She has completely refused his offer of Japanese-made handbags, shoes, and sunglasses, his reassurances of quality ignored. Yoruichi likes what she likes, and that is that.
If there is one thing Byakuya Kuchiki has learned in his years of knowing her, it’s that Yoruichi Shihouin will always win, a fact he still has trouble accepting.
The lights are on in their apartment, grand windows shining in the early-evening light. The city of Tokyo is, as ever, bright and alive with activity, the stars barely visible behind the haze of lights and smog. The apartment complex is exquisite and mere minutes away from the Shinjuku Gyoen gardens, which he likes to frequent in his spare time.
Byakuya parks his car and takes a deep breath, praying to whatever god will listen that his life be spared tonight.
In the elevator, he tries not to grip his briefcase and the flower too hard, lest he break them. He still can’t believe that woman intimidates him so, but she does. The fact she’s a kickboxing champion has little to do with it. She is clever and insightful, knows just what buttons to push to get the desired reaction from him. Others have trouble knowing the difference between his expressions, and she reads him like he was one of her magazines.
Byakuya slides the card key easily through the electronic lock, nearly jumping at the affirming beep. There is no reason to be so worked up, he reassures himself. Although Yoruichi is a high-maintenance woman, she is not spoiled, and she is not unreasonable. She is, in fact –
The briefcase nearly falls to the floor, and he swears the higher functions of his brain just shut down.
Yoruichi is on the couch, painting her toenails. That’s nothing unusual, and the bright gold matches her eyes.
What is unusual, however, is the fact she’s doing it nearly, but not quite, completely nude.
The CEO has to remind himself to take a breath, lest he pass out from the lack of oxygen. As if he were not there, Yoruichi finishes the last coat of paint on her pinkie toe, on which is a silver ring. She wriggles her toes and grins, lips shining with a faint sheen of gloss. Byakuya is willing to bet it’s his favorite flavor, too – banana.
Her dark skin shines very faintly under the lights, as if she has just emerged from a shower. The long fall of her hair is in a loose ponytail, purple strands tumbling down to cover her left breast. Her smoky eyelashes are lowered, golden eyes half-lidded as she inspects her work, though Byakuya is certain she’s aware of his presence.
She slides her long, sleek legs off the red sofa to stand, and Byakuya feels every last drop of his blood run south. His fiancé is wearing a small, barely-there lace thong, twin straps hooking over her hip bones, the remaining material sheer enough to leave very little to imagination.
As if he were the faintest puff of air, Yoruichi walks past him and into the kitchen, opening the fridge and retrieving a container of sushi. He knows there’s nothing inherently erotic about eating sushi, but as he watches her place a piece on her tongue and chew like it were edible paradise – Byakuya rethinks the notion.
She turns away from him and opens the freezer to pull out a chilled bottle of chardonnay. The smooth muscles of her back and shoulders flex as she opens it, the same back he had kissed last night, which, now that he thinks about it, is probably why he forgot the importance of today. It’s hard to think of anything else with her in his bed.
Or, really, anywhere.
Yoruichi proves his point when she sits on the marble-topped counter and swallows a mouthful of the alcohol. After smacking her lips, she sets the bottle down beside her with a clunk, and, as if realizing he’s been standing there for the last few minutes, looks at him with surprise.
Byakuya prepares himself for the worst, setting his briefcase on the end table beside the sofa. The other is lowered to his side, the orchid dangling pathetically between his fingertips.
“You took your sweet time coming home, Mr. CEO.”
The brunette stifles a sigh. “There was more traffic than I expected.”
“A likely story, seeing as today is Valentine’s Day.”
He can’t deny that, and, tentatively, he takes a few steps into the kitchen, shoes clacking against the floor. She looks at him, silently, expression unreadable. She is neither frowning nor glaring, but her tensed shoulders and drumming fingers tell him she’s waiting for an excuse.
As if only now remembering the orchid, Byakuya lifts it to his chest, dark eyes lowering to its flaming petals. He suddenly feels incredibly foolish, both for his forgetfulness and the unexceptional gift. The gift was hastily considered and purchased because no other options were available. She deserves better.
He places it on the counter before taking a few more steps forward, until she’s an arms-length away, near enough so he can smell her tropical body wash.
Yoruichi first looks to him, and then the flower. Her shoulders relax and she stops drumming her fingers. Byakuya thinks he sees her eyes soften, too, but is quickly corrected as they meet his own. It is not softness, but deviousness, the way she smiles makes a crinkle on her nose and the tips of her eyes rise, ever so.
The woman slides off the counter and approaches the flower, smelling it first before admiring it, and he likes the color against her skin. Testing, Byakuya approaches her from behind, one hand brushing a lock of hair from her nape, the long slope of her spine begging to be brushed with his fingertips.
He nearly does so before Yoruichi speaks.
“I assume the florists were all out of roses.”
Byakuya feels his stomach roll. Should he have gotten her roses? He had attempted to the first Valentine’s they shared, but she had quickly told him her dislike for them. Has she changed her mind?
He licks his lips and clears his throat. “If you don’t like it, I can get you roses. There has to be somewhere in this city to buy them.”
Yoruichi’s laugh is like honey on ice cream.
She turns to face him, the flower held to her chest, red on violet, gold and brown. Her yellow eyes smile, and now Byakuya can see the softness in them, but the way her hand comes up to play with his hair says something different.
“I still don’t like roses, you stupid man. If you had gotten me roses, I would have shoved them down your throat. If you got me jewelry, I would put it in a drawer and forget about it. Getting me chocolates would have been pointless, because neither you nor I would have eaten them. This,” she brings the flower closer to her face, the petals half-hiding a grin, “is perfect.”
Instantly, all the troubles of his day are gone, and Byakuya closes his eyes, lowering his head so their foreheads touch.
“Good,” he sighs, and reaffirms, “good.”
The note in her laughter changes.
“I don’t suppose Rangiku recommended mind-blowing sex, did she?”
Her breath is warm on his skin when she draws near, close enough so he can feel her eyelashes on his cheek.
“Because if she did, you would be an idiot not to take her advice.”
His stomach flips again as she secures the orchid in a strap of her thong. Wrapping a hand around his tie, Yoruichi leads him out of the kitchen and into the hall, and her grin is feral, feline, shining.
“Besides, I went through hell to get this thong, it would be a shame for my efforts to go to waste, even if you are just going to take it off.”
He laughs, just a little, the sound still a bit foreign, but the light in her eyes and the warmth of her skin reassures him, so he follows her wherever she’s headed to, thankful, this time, of forgetfulness.
Byakuya can only hope he forgets again next year.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-02-15 06:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-03 03:23 pm (UTC)(And yeah, late reply is laaate).
no subject
Date: 2011-02-20 05:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-03 03:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-28 10:10 pm (UTC)...And what mind-blowing sex they did have. xD
Anyhow, I love your word choice and the way your sentences flow.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-03 03:24 pm (UTC)And as for the mind-blowing sex, imagination imagination imagination =P
no subject
Date: 2011-03-22 04:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-22 09:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-02 11:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-02 11:30 pm (UTC)