Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kubo-sensei. I write this purely for entertainment purposes.
Summary: In which Urahara uses elaborate stunts to get his way.
Word Count: 813
It didn’t matter how many centuries she lived; it never ceased to amaze her how some things would never change.
“They’re likely in one of these drawers, Kisuke. If you wait one minute, I’m sure I can find them, and you won’t have to risk electrocuting yourself,” she stated cheekily, arms crossed and one foot tapping impatiently.
“Yoru, I almost have this. All I gotta do is connect some wires without touching them together. I’m sure I’m not gonna fry these good looks of mine.” He paused in his activity to grin at her, his hat falling sloppily over his eyes.
“It’d probably work better if you could see,” she snatched the hat from atop his head, placing it on her own. She glanced over her shoulder to see how she looked in the small mirror near the kitchen’s entrance, and then proceeded to rummage through the counter drawers.
“Actually,” he turned to her once again, “could you hold this flashlight?” he gestured the object toward her.
She didn’t stop what she was doing, but answered in return, “I don’t wish to get any closer than I have to.” She eyed the broken appliance suspiciously.
“What happened to curiosity?”
“Didn’t curiosity kill the cat? Besides, 1) I’m not a cat, and 2) my curiosity has its limits. Livewires happens to be one of them, particularly when one happens to be in unstable hands.”
“Unstable?” he uttered, seemingly hurt but not fooling anyone, especially her. “These hands happen to be very steady. You should know,” he added suggestively.
Yoruichi rolled her eyes. “You know exactly what I meant and I’m not reiterating my point.”
Knowing that this banter would be never-ending and that she promised Soi Fon she’d stop to visit today, she resigned herself to her fate and took the blasted light from his waiting hand. Squatting next to him, she pointed the light in the general direction he needed and sighed. “You know, I don’t understand why this couldn’t wait until Tessai and the kids got back.”
“And deny ourselves a wonderful dinner?”
“Right. Because there isn’t a perfectly good, working stove that happens to sit nex—AH!”
Yoruichi yelped in surprise and she fell flat on her behind. She blinked several times before her eyes adjusted to the smoke leftover from the livewire sparking mere centimeters from her face. Seeing the sheepish grimace on his face, her eyes narrowed and she abruptly stood and began to sift through the drawers again, this time producing a pamphlet that had the logo of the oven on the front. It was then Urahara knew it was coming… that dreaded ‘I told you so.’ Didn’t matter how it was worded, it always had the same implication, and the possibility that he’d be sleeping on the couch.
“Hmm, I wonder what this could be…” she thumbed through the pamphlet and paused, then turned the open page for him to see. “Oh, look what I found! Something about—Oh!—not messing with livewires just for the hell of it!”
She threw the paper and flashlight at him, hearing a very loud ouch as she went to leave, but stopped mid-step when an unintelligible whisper reached her ears.
“What was that, Kisuke? I didn’t quite hear you.”
“I could’ve easily figured this out.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Why do you think? Using instructions is like forfeiting the battle. You gotta keep your opponent on his toes.”
“You can’t personify an oven like it’s your sparring partner. This is some kind of ‘man’ thing, isn’t it? These hundred-some years in the real world has definitely has put some strange sense of manly ego in you. I may just have to snuff it out if this keeps up. Besides, if using instructions equates to admitting defeat, explain the instructions you write for your damn, complicated inventions?”
“My inventions are not complicated,” he stated proudly, standing up and allowing the wire to carefully hang. “They just aren’t for the simple-minded.”
She amended, “Or those lacking god complexes.”
“Precisely!” he grabbed his hat from off her head and walked straight out of the kitchen.
Yoruichi gazed after him and shook her head. Noticing the mess, she crouched down again and skimmed the instructions and rewired the damn oven herself in a matter of minutes. Before long, the snickering behind her caught her attention and she stood upright once again, dusting her hands together, not even bothering to waste her energy to glare at him again. Instead, she lifted the flashlight from off the floor and bonked him on the head with it. Kisuke cried out - something vaguely sounding like ‘husband abuse’, and crumpled to his knees in a performance that only he could pull.
She had completely forgotten how much of a turn on it was for him to see her—a former princess—be handy around the house.