Valentine's Day
Title: Valentine's Day
Series: Bleach
Pairing: Chad/Karin
Prompt: Forgotten
Rating: PG
Word Count: 338
Author's Note: I'm worried about characterization in this one, but I only had 15 min...
Karin assumed the first year that he would forget the pseudo holiday. After all, she’d heard from all her friends over the years how forgetful men were about it. Actually, she was hoping he wouldn’t remember. Not only was it a stupid cultural ritual, the whole thing would be too embarrassing to deal with. All week she was careful not to mention it and they went about life in a normal fashion.
Finally it was Valentine’s Day. If she could just get through the next twenty-four hours without something awkward happening, then all would be well and she could stop worrying about it. Things were going well until exactly 6:14 pm when there was a familiar knock on the door. Dread pooling in her stomach, she answered the door. Chad stood before her wearing one of his ugly shirts, holding a bouquet of roses in one hand and a plain paper bag in the other. She growled at him. He raised an eyebrow in question.
“I can’t believe you’d spend fifty dollars on roses for a made up holiday.” She blurted out.
“It’s supposed to be romantic.” He told her easily as he pushed past her and into the apartment.
“It’s too stupid to be romantic.” Karin replied, folding her arms across her chest. He ignored her as he set down the flowers and the bag and searched her cupboards for a vase. Muttering under her breath, she shoved him out of the way and pulled out a vase her sister had bought for her as an apartment warming gift.
“I brought you something else, but if you’re not in the mood…” he trailed off and nudged the bag. Glaring at him for a moment, she snatched it off the counter and opened it.
“These…” she started. “these are the soccer cleats I’ve been wanting all year.”
“I know.”
“They’re… They’re annoyingly romantic.”
“It’s odd that you find shoes more romantic then flowers.” He commented.
“Shut up.” She snapped as she leaned up on her tip-toes to kiss him.
Series: Bleach
Pairing: Chad/Karin
Prompt: Forgotten
Rating: PG
Word Count: 338
Author's Note: I'm worried about characterization in this one, but I only had 15 min...
Karin assumed the first year that he would forget the pseudo holiday. After all, she’d heard from all her friends over the years how forgetful men were about it. Actually, she was hoping he wouldn’t remember. Not only was it a stupid cultural ritual, the whole thing would be too embarrassing to deal with. All week she was careful not to mention it and they went about life in a normal fashion.
Finally it was Valentine’s Day. If she could just get through the next twenty-four hours without something awkward happening, then all would be well and she could stop worrying about it. Things were going well until exactly 6:14 pm when there was a familiar knock on the door. Dread pooling in her stomach, she answered the door. Chad stood before her wearing one of his ugly shirts, holding a bouquet of roses in one hand and a plain paper bag in the other. She growled at him. He raised an eyebrow in question.
“I can’t believe you’d spend fifty dollars on roses for a made up holiday.” She blurted out.
“It’s supposed to be romantic.” He told her easily as he pushed past her and into the apartment.
“It’s too stupid to be romantic.” Karin replied, folding her arms across her chest. He ignored her as he set down the flowers and the bag and searched her cupboards for a vase. Muttering under her breath, she shoved him out of the way and pulled out a vase her sister had bought for her as an apartment warming gift.
“I brought you something else, but if you’re not in the mood…” he trailed off and nudged the bag. Glaring at him for a moment, she snatched it off the counter and opened it.
“These…” she started. “these are the soccer cleats I’ve been wanting all year.”
“I know.”
“They’re… They’re annoyingly romantic.”
“It’s odd that you find shoes more romantic then flowers.” He commented.
“Shut up.” She snapped as she leaned up on her tip-toes to kiss him.