Title: Untitled.
Dedication: Shini
Characters: Kuukaku, Mayuri
Prompt: fizzy
“You call that shit fizzy? That sure as hell isn’t fizzy.”
He didn’t know how she’d managed to find his lab (although he suspected that she’d cajoled—or forced—Nemu to tell her the location), but there was one thing Mayuri knew, and knew it well with every fiber of his being.
If this Shiba Kuukaku bitch didn’t get OUT of his lab, he was going to have to kill her, and he was beginning to look forward to it with a great sense of sadistic pleasure. After all, it would be quite satisfying to see the look on her face when he finally got his retribution for the times she had gotten him drunk or tripped him and laughed in his face. And she would be QUIET for what would probably be the first time in her entire life! Honestly, the woman never stopped talking! And—
“Don’t touch that!” He snapped, shoving her away from a certain bubbling concoction. “And I didn’t say ‘fizzy’, I said ‘carbonated and prone to boiling at low temperatures’. This is highly explosive, and any physical contact will—“
“Are you kidding me?” Kuukaku scoffed, rolling her eyes. “That shit couldn’t ruffle the tiniest stub of hair on my head. What you need is some sulfate, or maybe carbon, and if you add a bit of your own energy to it…” She was already ripping open black packets that she’d somehow managed to retrieve from her impressive (and frightening) cleavage and was gleefully dumping it in to the now-hissing green liquid.
“Wait, don’t you dare think about touching th—”
Fizz. Sizzle.
BOOM.
Too late.
Once the foul-smelling black smoke had cleared and Mayuri could stop coughing, he carefully brushed off his scorched lab coat, turned and fixed the grinning culprit with a withering glare. And then, ever so slowly, that glare turned into disgruntled curiosity.
“I never would have thought of sulfate.”
“That’s because you’re an uneducated dumbass.”
“It’s a shame you couldn’t learn manners from my daughter.”
“Oh? With a dad like you, it’s really no wonder why she’s banging the Venereal Wonder.”
“… I’ll kill you.”
“Not if I kill you first, bitch.”
“I believe YOU are the bitch in this situation, cripple.”
“You whine enough for the both of us, you deserve the bitch title, BITCH.”
“If we weren’t in MY lab, I wouldn’t hesitate to strip every bit of flesh from your body with its incorrect and gross proportions.”
“If that’s the best thing you’ve got for a pick-up line, you’re definitely going to need work. Although that might work well for an arrancar—I bet that Grimmjow bastard would consider that hot. It’s obvious that you’re never going to get laid by a female.”
“Go to hell.”
“Bitches first.”
“…..”
“……”
“… How much sulfate.”
“Three milligrams. A couple liters of battery acid, if you want to get creative.”
“….. Not bad… for an idiotic cripple.”
“…. Bitch.”
And it began again, as it had been going on every day this week. By the end of the week, they were either going to wind up killing each other or rolling on the floor together like sex-deprived rabbits.
Or both.