UlqiHime - A Second Chance

Ulquiorra cocked his head at the image on the mantle piece – a part of hismwas still disbelieving of its contents and the life he had lead thereafter. It was a striking picture without a doubt, Orihime in a simple sleek white dress, flattering her curves without making her look unbalanced, and her face glowed far more beautiful than the sun, reflecting on her groom too, his green eyes seemed to shine through the print. Ulquiorra hated it when people compared his wife's smile to the sun, he'd always found its light a harsh glare, ready to blacken and burn. She was warm and a guiding light yes, but there was never the slightest threat in her expression. Even on the rare occasions she had yelled at his, slapped him even, her face had shown no lasting anger and only a soft apology. He loved that about her, to put it simply, her goodness.

After his purified soul was found in the Soul Society, hollow hole filled, she'd come to find him as soon as word got to her. She'd stood up for him when the some of the shinigami were dying to kill him all over again. He couldn't understand how she did it after everything he'd put her through and how through all his own despair that he tried to drown her and her friends in, she'd seen through to the dry and barely beating heart beneath his mask. He remembered how during one of their early conversations he'd asked her to hold out her hand before tentatively linking his own fingers though it, basking in wonder at the simple feel of contact with another and finally understanding why he had spent the last of his moments as an espada trying to do this. From there, knowing that he loved being near here despite his rigorous attempts to hide it, Orihime had made avpoint to hug him, touch him, just let him enjoy the happiness that replaced the deluded nihilism he'd forced himself into. Slowly from there, they'd become everything the other needed – she was his hope and his guide whilst he became the one who would keep her along side him, never making her feel like she was holding him back. Somehow, without knowing how, he always seemed to just say what she needed to hear. Not always what she wanted mind, but that was how they came to work.

Months after their meeting in his reborn state, they finally reached into the taboo of their past and his death, all that had happened that time and building up to it. They'd both cried that night, a new thing for him considering he still didn't understand the new emotions he'd been blessed with, but with the tears they shed what they needed to see the love they felt for each other and a year post that she had become to him what Aizen had been to the fourth espada – everything, and herserved her every whim even more reverently. Where as Aizen had become everything it was through necessity for something more than himself, because of power and that there was simply nothing else and then she came along. He didn't know when the balance started shifting but he saw now it had been inevitable all along. She was his everything because even with everything else he had now, and none of it compared to her.

Well, yet at least. He moved along the wall, simply staring at the latest picture of them with his hands pressed into his pockets. It was of the couple at new years. There were so many beaming faces around them, that the slight lilt of Ulquiorra's lips would have gone unnoticed to anyone who didn't know him – Rukia and Ichigo, Chad and Tatsuki, Yuzu and Keigo, Karin and Toushiro to mention a few of the other in the photo. None of that mattered to him, and though they held the title of friends his interest in them was none existent in comparison to the small bump of his wife's stomach, each of them with a hand curled over it protectively, their spare hands linked like the first time they'd touched. They'd had scans and that done since then, and he now knew that they were expecting twins. Their gender was unknown as yet, but he didn't care, he felt that heart already swelling at the thought of them – it wasn't that it would be shared with his wife, but rather had grown to accommodate all of his family.

Even during his musings his face had shown no change of emotion and in a similar state he wandered to the kitchen to complete the purpose of his early arising, pouring the already prepared waffle mixture into the machine whilst setting up a tray with juice and flowers, before waiting for the main part of the meal to cook. Out of habit he made himself two slices of toast, sparsely spread with spiced marmalade that Orihime had made earlier that year. Unlike during her teenage years, aging and a cooking course or two resulted in delicious food experiments, not that he wouldn't have eaten them even if they were the monstrosities he had heard about. Dishing up the waffles and drizzling them with toffee sauce he then proceeded to the bedroom, opening the door tentatively.
"Onna," he called, his voice still as emotionless as it had always been, it just wasn't his way of showing his feeling. There was a light whine from the bed.
"You need to wake up onna,"
"Five more minutes," she mumbled back, burying her face under the covers and drawing a slight twitch of amusement from his mouth.
"Your breakfast will be cold by then," and with that he had her immediate attention. Seeing it was safe to approach, he balanced the tray on one hand before climbing back under the covers and presenting it to her. With a squeal and kiss of gratitude Orihime wolfed down the food, barely noticing her husband's arm now over her shoulders until she had finished when she leaned into it and rested her head on his shoulder.
"I love you," she murmured, feeling his hand leave her swollen belly and instead cup her chin, drawing her face to his. Her eyes fluttered closed as their lips brushed, just moving lazily and lovingly at the time in the morning before her drew back and caught her eyes,
"My heart is yours."