Memory
Squee! Lots of cute, fluffy fluff and much humor at Hitsugaya’s expense. Plus a few naughty nibbles thrown in by Matsumoto for your inner-pervert to enjoy.
SUMMARY: Hitsugaya awakens in Matusmoto’s bed with no memory, and she has a lot of explaining to do. Sometimes, it’s better not to know the truth. Sometimes, some things are best left forgotten.
PAIRINGS: hitsu/matsu
WARNINGS: Very naughty innuendoes and lewd remarks by Matsumoto and Ichimaru, yaoi implications
MEMORY
by Neko Oni
Dark eyelashes fluttered against pale skin, opening to reveal glazed turquoise orbs. Toushiro blinked; his vision was blurry. He rubbed his eyes with small fists in a very child-like gesture. It was taking too long for his vision to clear. Frowning, the tiny taichou went to sit up.
Immediately, pain flared along his skull, throbbing as if being repeatedly struck with the blunt end of a zanpaktoh. “Itai.” He winced, clutching his head as he fell back down, curling in on himself.
His breath hitched as his slender body rode the waves of pain until they finally ebbed. Keeping his eyes closed, Hitsugaya slowly relaxed his dainty fingers. He felt a thick layer of bandages wound round his temples like an oversized headband.
What in all of Soul Society happened? He couldn’t remember any battle, sparring session, accident- nothing. He scrunched his pert nose up cutely as he struggled to recall ANYthing, but his mind remained inconveniently blank.
Well, he’d suffered a head injury, that much was apparent. He thought, lightly fingering the bandage. Most likely from said head trauma came the blurred vision and memory loss.
He knew who he was, where he lived, what he did, whom he loved- all the day to day information was there. But of the recent activities leading up to his injury and passing out, his mind was an ominous blank slate. Couldn’t his mind remember? Or didn’t it want do?
Pouting, he rubbed his eyes before opening them one more time. Slowly, ever so slowly, his vision cleared. He blinked, staring at his hands. And the light blue nail polish adorning them.
Hitsugaya drew in a sharp, quick breath. What the hell?! He curled his fingers- yes, these most certainly belonged to him. But they were blue. Eyes wide, pushing down the panic, he gazed about him, turning his head carefully; he knew better than to try sitting up again so soon.
The pillow was plush, comfy, and in a pink satin pillowcase while the blankets covering him were purple. He was definitely NOT in Unohana-taichou’s infirmary! This looked like… Pressing his nose into the pillow, he inhaled the faint smell of sweet pea blossoms and sake. Yes, it was. He was in Matsumoto’s bedroom. In her bed. Wearing blue nail polish.
Huge teal eyes went wide. Hopefully, that wasn’t all he was wearing. Blushing and closing his eyes tightly, his slender hands trailed swiftly under the lavender blankets, fingers grasping desperately for cloth. He gripped the yukata’s collar tightly, exhaling loudly in relief as tension rushed from his slim frame.
But this collar was silkier than the thin cotton ones issued to infirmary patients, and this yukata didn’t have sleeves. Brows furrowing in confusion, he pulled the covers back and looked down.
A sleeveless, powder blue, summer yukata with silky, white trim and a wide white sash around his thin waist, keeping the cloth in place. It came down to around his ankles; too long. Summer yukatas should only come about midcalf. So the owner couldn’t be much taller than him; that ruled out Matsumoto- he’d drown in one of hers. But he still detected her fine hand in this. In fact, it had his fukutaichou written all over it. Gripping the white collar, Hitsugaya scowled and his blush deepened.
Somebody was in deep shit when he got a hold of her. Soon as she explained this, he’d freeze her. No, he’d bury her in paperwork for the rest of her afterlife, dump out all of her sake, then freeze her! Smiling to himself, Hitsugaya nodded, crossing his arms. Matsumoto was in for it. He didn’t know what happened- how he got hurt, why he was dressed like this- but instinct told him the busty blonde was the source. As she usually was.
He shivered- in his anger, he’d made the temperature drop too much- and pulled the blankets back up. Rubbing his bare arms, his teal eyes traveled around the room and landed on a small stack of paperwork on the nightstand by the bed. On top of that sat a folded paper crane. So that’s where Matsumoto’s share of the paperwork disappeared to. But since when did she have the patience for origami? Was this her latest get-out-of-paperwork scheme? Using it for origami?
Curiosity getting the better of him, Hitsugaya scootched over until his short arm could reach the paper bird. His fingertips brushed the folded wingtip. He frowned; he was at the edge of the mattress, and couldn’t reach laying down. Tentatively, he pushed himself up on his arms very slowly, so as not to jar his head. He stretched an arm out, twisting to reach the origami crane. Taking it, he pulled back, ankles bumping as he shifted his slight weight.
Pain flared in his left ankle. It hurt as bad as his head. Gasping, he fell back onto the mattress, bird plopping besides him. Once the pain subsided, he peered under the blankets; his left ankle was heavily bandaged. Great, now what had he done to that?
Hitsugaya ran his hands over his face, sighing deeply. What had happened to him? Why couldn’t he remember? Duh- head trauma. Obviously, the blow to his head caused him to loose those memories. He’d be happy when Matsumoto crawled back from wherever she was, and gave him some much needed answers. For now, all he could do was wait.
He sighed. He didn’t want to go back to sleep; he wasn’t tired, and he didn’t want to miss her return. But neither did he want to lay here, bored. But there wasn’t much else his battered body could do. He scowled and turned his head to the side. The origami bird.
Peering at it, he noticed there was some writing peeking out of the cracks. A note? What bird-brained idiot wrote correspondence then folded it up into origami? Eyebrow raised, he put the bird onto his chest and slowly, carefully, unfolded it. He was right; it was a short note that made him want to engulf the world- spirit and living- in another ice age.
Dear Matsumoto-san,
Thank you very much for the sake bottle. It was great. Ika-chan (Ikkaku) and I enjoyed it very much. Yachiru and I had fun with your little taichou. You were right- he’s absolutely adorable, even when he scowls. Let me know if you ever need anyone to baby sit him again.
[Hearts],
Yumichika.
At the words “little”, “adorable”, and “baby sit”, the temperature dropped dangerously. As he exhaled, his breath condensed into little clouds. “MATSUMOTO!!!!” He screamed, small hands fisting in the purple blankets.
The bedroom door slid open. “Oi, Shiro-chan, Unohana-taichou says you’re supposed to take it easy. Not shout down all of Seireitei.” Matsumoto shut the door with one tabi covered foot, hands full with a tray balancing two bowls.
“Where in the nine gates of the underworld were you?” He snarled, eyes going from greenish blue to a light, glowing icy hue.
“Getting lunch. Obviously.” She set the tray down on a low table then sat down on the edge of the bed. “Geez, you’re extra cranky, Shiro-chan-taichou.” She laid a graceful hand on his forehead, ignoring his homicidal glower. “Hm, no fever. Are you constipated?” She placed a hand on his stomach, pressing gently.
He twitched. “MATSUMOTO!!!!”
She winced, covering her ears. “Ok, ok. Sorry, sorry. What’s wrong?”
He pinned her with his chilling gaze. “You can start with this.” He threw the note at her. “This.” He gestured towards the blue yukata. “And these.” He pointed to his bandaged head and ankle. “And why am I in your bed?” His anger was dulled by a light blush.
“Um…well, it’s kind of a long story…” She scratched the back of her head and shifted her weight.
Hitsugaya stubbornly crossed his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“B-but- our lunch! I’m hungry!” Matsumoto protested. He just shrugged. She just sighed, shivered, voluptuous, exposed breasts jiggling, and relented. She should put a
coat on to prepare for the on-coming blizzard before telling him…
“Well, it all started with some sake…”
He snorted. “That isn’t surprising. But-“ He scrunched his face up cutely. “I don’t drink.”
She ran her fingers through her strawberry blonde waves. “Anou…this time, you did. But you didn’t mean to. It was an accident-“
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Just HOW do you accidentally drink sake?”
Matsumoto sighed, getting frustrated. Why did he have to keep interrupting her? Admitting it was hard enough already! “That’s what I’m TRYING to tell you!” She settled herself further on the bed, her thigh brushing against his side. “I was out doing…doing- doing an errand!- “ He snorted again, knowing this was Matsumoto code for chatting with other officers. “While you did the paperwork, and I’d left my teacup on my desk, only that wasn’t tea in it-“
He could see where this was going. “Teacups are for tea. Tea. And you’re not supposed to drink on the clock!” Hitsugaya pursed his pink lips. Was there no end to her sneakiness? Of course not- this was Matsumoto. A woman who lacked modesty and whose priorities were even more screwed up than her brain. Sake and sleeping were at the top, paperwork and being on time on the bottom.
“That’s the whole point!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms up in exclamation, then frowned. Crap. Back to the drawing board- cute, grumpy Shiro-chan was onto that trail now. Ah, time to forge ahead and blaze new ones! Err…soon as he got better…well, soon as she thawed out after he froze her…
“That way, you wouldn’t know.” A muscle twitched, and she recklessly plunged on. “Anyway, I came back and you were pretty sloshed. I mean, it wasn’t much- I wouldn’t even get a buzz off it. Then again, you’re too young to drink and you’re body’s much smaller than mine- sorry, Toushiro-taichou, but it’s true- And you looked SO cute with your hair all messed up and uniform askew. Quite becoming, taichou. Wish I could see you like that more often. Preferably in my bed-“
“MATSUMOTO!!” His entire face turned crimson.
She grinned cheekily. “Yes, taichou?”
“Finish your explanation, and get your mind out of the gutter, you hentai!”
“Oh, alright. You’re no fun.” She sounded disappointed. “So, anyhow, you went to throw up, but before I could catch you, you tripped on-on…” She broke into a fit of giggles.
“On what?” He was really starting to loose his patience.
“On your own feet!” He blanched. “You’re as clumsy drunk as you are graceful sober. Anyhoos, you twisted your ankle when you fell, and hit your head off the toilet.” She snickered.
He wanted to die. Well, die again, that is. He prayed for the ground to open up and swallow him. He groaned and buried his face in his petite hands. He was never going to live this down. The great Hitsugaya, child prodigy, supposed reincarnation of a Heavenly Guardian, a Celestial Being, defeated by a toilet.
“It was a particularly vicious commode, sir, and you weren’t in full form. You could barely stand, and the evil porcelain attacked out of nowhere.” She tittered in mock-sympathy, patting his arm.
Crap! He’d said that out loud! Hitsugaya pulled the pillow over his head. He was going to suffocate himself. Laughing, Matsumoto pulled the pillow away before he really did. Stubborn brat. He glared at her, well, more at the titanic-sized tits being shoved in his face. She smiled, leaned down, and gave his nose a soft peck. He blushed and she suppressed a squeal- he as beyond adorable, and she had him in her bed, all to herself.
She continued with her tale- it wasn’t even at the good part yet. “You were unconscious, so I took you to Unohana-taichou, who, by the way, gave me a stern lecture-“ Here he smirked as if to say, ‘good’. “And, well, cuz of your concussion, you couldn’t be left unattended; too easy to slip into a coma. So she left you under my watch. You lay on the couch while I did paperwork ALL day.”
Her tone grew pitiful, as if searching for sympathy because, for once, SHE got stuck with all of the tedious paperwork. Hah! Fat chance of him feeling sorry for her. In fact, he regretted not being conscious to enjoy it. See how she liked it when the tables were turned! He smiled like a cat full of cream, and the room slowly warmed back up.
“Then it was evening, and the paperwork STILL wasn’t done, but Renji and Kira were going out for a nightcap and invited me. Then Yachiru burst in, running from Yumichika, who said that since he was keeping an eye on her while Zaraki-taichou was out, he’d watch you too for a bit.”
His smile quickly turned into a scowl. “I believe the term he used was ‘baby sit’. “ Hitsugaya groused. “And that still doesn’t explain this!” He gestured angrily at the pretty yukata.
Matsumoto snickered. “Thank Hinamori for that- it’s her yukata.” He paled visibly. “Yumichika was painting Yachiru’s nails when she got the idea to make you feel better. So, she painted your nails. And Yumichika declared you looked like a little ghost with your white hair, white skin, and that white yukata. That’s when Hinamori came in to get your opinion on which kimono she should wear for her dinner-date with Aizen-taichou. Yachiru asked for her help making you look..” Snicker. “..pretty. So in exchange for her help, Yumichika did her hair and Hinamori gave them an old yukata that she’d outgrown. Though, it’s a bit big on you-“
“YOU’RE ALL INSANE!!!” Hitsugaya howled in rage, air chilling rapidly as his reiatsu gathered.
“Aw, taichou, it’s not that bad-“
“I’m a boy! B-O-Y! In a girl’s yukata!!”
“But you’re adorable-“
“I’m not a cross-dressing, fairy peacock!!”
“Oi, can’t ya keep it down, Ran-chan? Some of us, unlike you, DO work.” Both heads swiveled to the door at the cool, oddly accented voice that belonged to an even odder man.
“Ichimaru.” Hitsugaya hissed. Though he couldn’t see the creep’s eyes, he could FEEL them raking over him. He pulled the blankets up higher.
“Very lovely, little Hitsugaya. No wonder Ran-chan won’t play with me anymore. Not with such a delight in her bed.”
Matsumoto moved protectively in front of her taichou. Ichimaru was her childhood friend, and over the years they often ‘played’ together, so she knew full well what happened when he got that glint in his eye. The object of that glint was often in for a rough- if highly enjoyable- time. She’d seen the marks on Kira’s body, and experienced them herself multiple times. But she couldn’t stand to see her Toushiro-taichou like that. And right now, that glint was for him. “Is there something I can help you with, Ichimaru-taichou?”
Ichimaru’s smile widened at her protective gesture. So she finally found someone she wouldn’t share, much like he had with Kira. Still, it never hurt to ask. “Care to share that tempting morsel behind you?” He leaned casually against the door frame, grinning and peering over Matsumoto’s shoulder to the taichou in her bed.
Hitsugaya squeaked and pulled the covers over his head. Laying a hand on his blanket covered leg, Matsumoto stared evenly at her long time friend. “Sorry, no. Now, if that’s all, kindly leave, Ichimaru-taichou.”
He chuckled. “Too precious to share? I see. Very well, then. I don’ wanna keep ya from yer …activities.” He said the last word with a leer to the small lump in her bed, then he turned and left.
Matsumoto snorted then turned around. “Shiro-chan?” She pulled down the blankets and was met with an aquamarine glare that was ruined by the bright blush below it.
“Don’t you Shiro-chan me, Matsumoto. You’re on thin ice. You’re about to turn into ice.”
She blanched then snorted again. “Fine, you win.” She settled herself on the floor and grabbed her bowl, ignoring him and concentrating extra hard on her food.
Hitsugaya stubbornly stared at the ceiling before her loud munching and his rumbling stomach got the better of him. He braced his hands on the mattress and carefully, slowly, oh so slowly, sat up.
He got barely even half way up when a loud crunch from Matsumoto made him jerk his head; sharp pain lanced through his skull. “Itai!” He gasped, falling backwards. His head never hit the awaiting pillow; strong arms caught him, easily gathering him against an overly plump chest.
His vision swam; he closed his eyes and waited until his head stopped spinning from the sudden movement. “Toushiro, let me help you.” Matsumoto ran long fingers through his thick, soft hair.
“I’d say you’ve ‘helped’ enough, Rangiku.” He was still pissed. Well, considering all that had happened to him, he had a right to be.
She exhaled loudly. “It wasn’t like I knew they were gonna do that to you. It wasn’t planned- at least, not on my part. Besides, a yukata is a yukata, and you look adorable!”
“Yukata I can live with. Nail polish, however, is crossing the line and then some.”
“Fine. After lunch I’ll take it off for you.” She felt him nod against her in agreement. “Think you’re okay to sit up by yourself now?” She felt him nod again, his fluffy hair brushing against her skin, then she heard his stomach grumble. Smiling, she propped the pillows up to support him, then slowly eased him backwards. She set his bowl on his lap, then settled herself back down onto the floor with her own bowl.
Hitsugaya peered down into his, scrunching his pert nose up in distaste. It was a suspicious looking, murky, dark brown broth that resembled the contents of fourth division’s buckets when they cleaned out the sewers. There were no vegetables, meats, or seasoning of any kind visible; just watery, opaque broth.
Tipping his head forward, closer to the bowl, he tentatively sniffed. Immediately, he jerked back, small hands clasped over his mouth and nose, teal eyes wide. It looked like sludge from a clogged toilet and smelled worse. Like sewer sludge, stagnant swamp, and rotting corpses all fermented together in a not-so-appetizing brew. No one seriously could expect him to eat THAT! Holding his breath, he pushed the bowl as far away as possible.
Crunching happily on her own meal, Matsumoto glanced sideways at her taichou when she heard movement on the mattress. “Toushiro-taichou?” He was curled up tightly against the pillows, covering his nose and mouth protectively and glaring at his lunch.
He dare not take his eyes off the bowl- something horribly evil must be lurking in its murky depths. Like leftover bits of decayed hollow guts. He shuddered, stomach churning at the thought. “I’m not hungry.” He mumbled, voice muffled by his hands.
She popped a juicy morsel from her bowl into her mouth, chewing loudly and licking her lips in satisfaction. “Unohana-taichou said it won’t upset your stomach.”
“She’s right. It won’t. Because it’s not going in my stomach!” He glared at the bowl warily, as if expecting a hollow to jump out from the stinky brown broth and gobble him up.
“Shiro-chan-“
“YOU take a bite first, then.” He cut her off, sea foam green eyes turning to her challengingly.
Matsumoto looked at his bowl, curled her full lips in distaste, and promptly shoved her mouth full with her own food. His huge eyes traveled down to her bowl, and his face slackened in shock.
Fruit. Freshly picked, sun-ripened fruit, slightly chilled and cut into juicy, bite size chunks. Apples. Pears. Grapes. Pineapples. Oranges. Peaches. Cherries. Strawberries. Bananas. Kiwi. Mango. Cantaloupe. Black berries, blue berries, raspberries, you name it, it was in there. It was a smorgasbord of fruit, cool juices mixing together, dribbling down the busty blonde’s chin every time she took a bite, chilled fruit crunching under strong white teeth-
And watermelon. Fresh, crunchy, juicy, sweet, watermelon. His stomach rumbled loudly; he blushed and licked his lips, eyes never leaving her bowl and the chunks of delicious, tempting, red watermelon within. He was hungry- okay, starving- and watermelon was his absolute, hands down favorite. But it was over there, in HER bowl.
In his- he glanced down at his bowl, and blanched. He was stuck with soupy goop while she had ambrosia.
He looked back and forth from the bowls. The more he stared, the better her lunch looked. The more he gaped at hers, the stronger the stench from his own seemed to grow. When she stuck a huge chunk of watermelon in her mouth, crunched loudly, then moaned in appreciation of its juicy deliciousness, his decision was made.
The only problem was how to get from the bed all the way across the floor to Matsumoto and her melons. He lightly fingered the thick bandaging around his twisted ankle. Walking was out of the question. He eyed the distance some more. It wasn’t too far. He’d have to be careful not to jar his head- no sudden movements. It was do-able. Not ideal, but better than being stuck over here with that nauseating concoction.
Matsumoto noisily slurped the juice from an orange slice, tongue sliding past her full lips to lick the juice clinging to her long fingers. She smirked to herself, peering discretely at her taichou as he carefully crawled over to her on his hands and knees. She really wished she had a camera- no one would believe her. Well, at least she could revel in the moment. Still, a memento would be nice.
She fished out a watermelon hunk and started to raise it to her lips, cool juice dripping down her sticky, slender hand. A light weight suddenly settled into her lap, small fingers grabbed her hand, and soft lips covered her long fingers, small white teeth deftly snatching the fruit from her hold.
Hitsugaya snuggled into his cushiony fukutaichou, happily munching his prize. Her long body made the perfect cushion as he curled up atop those long legs. And her abundant breasts made the perfect pillow as he leaned his head back. Over the centuries, he’d come into contact with them enough not to be intimidated. She hugged him on a daily basis, shoving his face in between those monstrous mounds and nearly suffocating him. Standing, he was eyelevel with them, and any time taichou and fukutaichou bumped into one another, his face ended up stuffed between them.
Matsumoto served as a comfy cushion for the short taichou as he hungrily dug into her lunch. She smiled, running a hand through his hair then slipped her arms around his slim waist. She crowed triumphantly and buried her face in his fluffy, thick hair while he pushed fruit chunks out of his way in his search for more watermelon.
“Ne, Shiro-chan, that’s MY lunch.” She fake-whined, smirking into his hair. She really shouldn’t have messed with his lunch, but when opportunity knocked, she never failed to answer. It had been so easy, too- the fourth division members assigned to kitchen duty were terrified of her, the fukutaichou of the tenth division. But her short taichou snuggled in her arms- willingly- made her tiny inkling of guilt disappear as fast as it had appeared.
He tilted his head back in her arms, watermelon juice dribbling down his chin as he peered up at her. “You can have mine then.” He said evenly, and smirked as her lips curled in distaste, plopping a fruit chunk in his mouth and crunching happily.
“Ick! As if!” She huffed- what she’d put in the broth would make even Orihime wary. She sighed overly dramatic in resignation. “Oh, alright, I GUESS I can SHARE.” She over emphasized the words, as if it pained her to share her lunch. Never mind the chocolate mousse cheesecake she’d snitched from Byakuya-taichou’s lunch tray. Now THAT was something not worth sharing- it was too damn delicious. She just hoped the aristocrat never found out it was she who stole his dessert. Well, she could always blame Yachiru, so it really wasn’t a problem.
Hearing the pout in her voice, Hitsugaya paused, pink tongue darting out to lick his lips. He chewed thoughtfully, more juice leaking out of his mouth. Matsumoto hadn’t really meant to cause all this trouble for him- it just sort of happened. His busty, bubbly fukutaichou was a magnet for trouble, usually of her own doing. She hadn’t intended him to get entangled up in the mess, so it really wasn’t fair of him to be so harsh with her.
Feeling guilty, he rose up on his knees, careful not to jar his injured ankle, whispered a soft “Thank you” in her ear then kissed her softly on the cheek, getting watermelon juice on her in the process.
“Thank you.” Matsumoto’s jaw fell open in shock when she felt his warm breath wash over her ear, making her shiver, then his soft lips wet with fruit juice press against the side of her face, touch light as a butterfly’s wing. Her cornflower blue eyes sparkled in delight, and she bit back a squeal as her taichou settled himself back down, nuzzling against her huge breasts as he made himself comfortable once more.
Her huge grin nearly matched the size of her abundant chest, revealing her strong white teeth. She wrapped one arm tightly around his slender form, hugging him to her. She wanted to squeal loudly and glomp him, but she didn’t want him to yell at her and leave her lap. “Anytime, Shiro-chan!” She chirped and settled for kissing the top of his head.
Hitsugaya fished out a chunk of pineapple, frowning at it. He wanted watermelon, not pineapple. He was about to put it back into the bowl when strong, lean fingers wrapped around his slim wrist, catching his hand and raising it above his head. Full lips covered his own fingers, gently taking the fruit from his hold, then a warm tongue licked the juice from the digits.
His face grew warm as he blushed, hastily pulling his hand back. He curled in tighter against her, ducking his head to hide from her oceanic gaze. “Ne, Toushiro-chan, what’s wrong?” Matsumoto lightly ran a sticky hand along his bare arm, and he shivered, shaking his head.
“You’re blushing, aren’t you?!” He kept his head lowered, face pressed into one big boob.
“N-No I’m not!” He squawked, still not looking at her. His heart thudded in his chest.
She giggled. “Sure, taichou.” It was the same voice, same words she used when she wasn’t taking him seriously. She knew he was lying- and she loved every moment of it.
“Matsumoto!” He cut off her delighted snicker.
“What, Shiro-taichou?” She nuzzled the top of his head with her cheek, delighting in how soft and thick his spiky hair was.
“You know perfectly well what.” She frowned- she’d pushed him too far, and he was getting grumpy again. Her long fingers dove to the bottom of the bowl, fished out a watermelon chunk, and offered it to him.
Hitsugaya stared at it- he knew it was a peace offering, and she wanted nothing more than for him to snuggle with her again. He weighed his options; he could either get up and leave, crawling back over to his bowl brimming with muck, or sit here in her lap-which was quite comfortable- and eat watermelon. Yeah, tough choice there. All it required was a small sacrifice of pride. He glanced down at the blue yukata of Hinamori’s he wore- it’s not like he had much pride left anyway.
But he’d be damned if he let her get away with it. Gingerly, he took the proffered fruit, careful to avoid her fingertips, much to her disappointment, then cuddled into her, head pillowed on her plump boob. She squeezed him in delight, gently stroking the thick bandage running round his temple like a wide, white headband.
Hitsugaya let Matsumoto enjoy herself for a few more moments while he chewed then swallowed. His little tongue licked his lips again. “You’re so squishy.”
“What?!” She blinked. Squishy? Squishy, as in containing excess body fat? “Are you calling me fat?!”
He felt her bristle, and he nuzzled her; she calmed, but her happy contentment was gone. “Of course not.” He used her placating tone back on her. “I’m just saying you’re comfy. Like a couch.”
She, Matsumoto Rangiku, pin up girl of the Shinigami world, was being compared to a couch?! Had anyone else said that, she’d tear them limb from bloody limb then rip them into a thousand tiny, itsy bitsy pieces. But this was her cute, grumpy taichou.
Hitsugaya smirked. He had her right where he wanted her. She was off guard. Before the fukutaichou could say anything, he grasped her shoulders and rose up on his knees so he was face level with her. Big turquoise eyes- almost too large for his face- stared into hers as he rubbed his pert little nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss. Her insides melted; her instinct was to glomp and cuddle him. Her Toushiro NEVER acted like this! But it was SOO cute!
“Ne, Rangiku-san, would you do something for me?” He couldn’t bring himself to say “Ran-chan” like all her drinking buddies called her. He wanted to ask her outright, but doing so would give her an opportunity to wriggle out of it. Yes, sometimes in war you had to be devious and take paths you normally wouldn’t choose. He kissed her cheek. “Onegai.” [Please]
It was too much for the poor fukutaichou to take. She squealed and cuddled him happily- he winced as she hugged him tightly, but for once his face wasn’t smashed into the bulging beasts. “Anything for my Shiro-chan!” She squealed happily.
His smirk widened. “Do the paperwork for me.” She froze in horror, arms slack about him. He turned around and slid back down to her lap, grabbed a chunk of watermelon and munched happily.
“W-wha…” Matsumoto lingered in shock, brain trying to process the request. “B-but…but..-“ She’d just agreed to do the paperwork, which currently sat merrily multiplying on his desk in the dim office. Her mind raced, trying to find a way out, but he’d trapped her like a rat. He’d cornered her with his cuteness. And she fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
Picking up the empty bowl, Hitsugaya drank the leftover, mixed fruit juices from the dish’s bottom, positively beaming. Matsumoto slumped around him in defeat, face gloomy. How dare he beat her at her own game! Sometimes, the white-haired prodigy was too smart for HER own good.
OWARI
SUMMARY: Hitsugaya awakens in Matusmoto’s bed with no memory, and she has a lot of explaining to do. Sometimes, it’s better not to know the truth. Sometimes, some things are best left forgotten.
PAIRINGS: hitsu/matsu
WARNINGS: Very naughty innuendoes and lewd remarks by Matsumoto and Ichimaru, yaoi implications
MEMORY
by Neko Oni
Dark eyelashes fluttered against pale skin, opening to reveal glazed turquoise orbs. Toushiro blinked; his vision was blurry. He rubbed his eyes with small fists in a very child-like gesture. It was taking too long for his vision to clear. Frowning, the tiny taichou went to sit up.
Immediately, pain flared along his skull, throbbing as if being repeatedly struck with the blunt end of a zanpaktoh. “Itai.” He winced, clutching his head as he fell back down, curling in on himself.
His breath hitched as his slender body rode the waves of pain until they finally ebbed. Keeping his eyes closed, Hitsugaya slowly relaxed his dainty fingers. He felt a thick layer of bandages wound round his temples like an oversized headband.
What in all of Soul Society happened? He couldn’t remember any battle, sparring session, accident- nothing. He scrunched his pert nose up cutely as he struggled to recall ANYthing, but his mind remained inconveniently blank.
Well, he’d suffered a head injury, that much was apparent. He thought, lightly fingering the bandage. Most likely from said head trauma came the blurred vision and memory loss.
He knew who he was, where he lived, what he did, whom he loved- all the day to day information was there. But of the recent activities leading up to his injury and passing out, his mind was an ominous blank slate. Couldn’t his mind remember? Or didn’t it want do?
Pouting, he rubbed his eyes before opening them one more time. Slowly, ever so slowly, his vision cleared. He blinked, staring at his hands. And the light blue nail polish adorning them.
Hitsugaya drew in a sharp, quick breath. What the hell?! He curled his fingers- yes, these most certainly belonged to him. But they were blue. Eyes wide, pushing down the panic, he gazed about him, turning his head carefully; he knew better than to try sitting up again so soon.
The pillow was plush, comfy, and in a pink satin pillowcase while the blankets covering him were purple. He was definitely NOT in Unohana-taichou’s infirmary! This looked like… Pressing his nose into the pillow, he inhaled the faint smell of sweet pea blossoms and sake. Yes, it was. He was in Matsumoto’s bedroom. In her bed. Wearing blue nail polish.
Huge teal eyes went wide. Hopefully, that wasn’t all he was wearing. Blushing and closing his eyes tightly, his slender hands trailed swiftly under the lavender blankets, fingers grasping desperately for cloth. He gripped the yukata’s collar tightly, exhaling loudly in relief as tension rushed from his slim frame.
But this collar was silkier than the thin cotton ones issued to infirmary patients, and this yukata didn’t have sleeves. Brows furrowing in confusion, he pulled the covers back and looked down.
A sleeveless, powder blue, summer yukata with silky, white trim and a wide white sash around his thin waist, keeping the cloth in place. It came down to around his ankles; too long. Summer yukatas should only come about midcalf. So the owner couldn’t be much taller than him; that ruled out Matsumoto- he’d drown in one of hers. But he still detected her fine hand in this. In fact, it had his fukutaichou written all over it. Gripping the white collar, Hitsugaya scowled and his blush deepened.
Somebody was in deep shit when he got a hold of her. Soon as she explained this, he’d freeze her. No, he’d bury her in paperwork for the rest of her afterlife, dump out all of her sake, then freeze her! Smiling to himself, Hitsugaya nodded, crossing his arms. Matsumoto was in for it. He didn’t know what happened- how he got hurt, why he was dressed like this- but instinct told him the busty blonde was the source. As she usually was.
He shivered- in his anger, he’d made the temperature drop too much- and pulled the blankets back up. Rubbing his bare arms, his teal eyes traveled around the room and landed on a small stack of paperwork on the nightstand by the bed. On top of that sat a folded paper crane. So that’s where Matsumoto’s share of the paperwork disappeared to. But since when did she have the patience for origami? Was this her latest get-out-of-paperwork scheme? Using it for origami?
Curiosity getting the better of him, Hitsugaya scootched over until his short arm could reach the paper bird. His fingertips brushed the folded wingtip. He frowned; he was at the edge of the mattress, and couldn’t reach laying down. Tentatively, he pushed himself up on his arms very slowly, so as not to jar his head. He stretched an arm out, twisting to reach the origami crane. Taking it, he pulled back, ankles bumping as he shifted his slight weight.
Pain flared in his left ankle. It hurt as bad as his head. Gasping, he fell back onto the mattress, bird plopping besides him. Once the pain subsided, he peered under the blankets; his left ankle was heavily bandaged. Great, now what had he done to that?
Hitsugaya ran his hands over his face, sighing deeply. What had happened to him? Why couldn’t he remember? Duh- head trauma. Obviously, the blow to his head caused him to loose those memories. He’d be happy when Matsumoto crawled back from wherever she was, and gave him some much needed answers. For now, all he could do was wait.
He sighed. He didn’t want to go back to sleep; he wasn’t tired, and he didn’t want to miss her return. But neither did he want to lay here, bored. But there wasn’t much else his battered body could do. He scowled and turned his head to the side. The origami bird.
Peering at it, he noticed there was some writing peeking out of the cracks. A note? What bird-brained idiot wrote correspondence then folded it up into origami? Eyebrow raised, he put the bird onto his chest and slowly, carefully, unfolded it. He was right; it was a short note that made him want to engulf the world- spirit and living- in another ice age.
Dear Matsumoto-san,
Thank you very much for the sake bottle. It was great. Ika-chan (Ikkaku) and I enjoyed it very much. Yachiru and I had fun with your little taichou. You were right- he’s absolutely adorable, even when he scowls. Let me know if you ever need anyone to baby sit him again.
[Hearts],
Yumichika.
At the words “little”, “adorable”, and “baby sit”, the temperature dropped dangerously. As he exhaled, his breath condensed into little clouds. “MATSUMOTO!!!!” He screamed, small hands fisting in the purple blankets.
The bedroom door slid open. “Oi, Shiro-chan, Unohana-taichou says you’re supposed to take it easy. Not shout down all of Seireitei.” Matsumoto shut the door with one tabi covered foot, hands full with a tray balancing two bowls.
“Where in the nine gates of the underworld were you?” He snarled, eyes going from greenish blue to a light, glowing icy hue.
“Getting lunch. Obviously.” She set the tray down on a low table then sat down on the edge of the bed. “Geez, you’re extra cranky, Shiro-chan-taichou.” She laid a graceful hand on his forehead, ignoring his homicidal glower. “Hm, no fever. Are you constipated?” She placed a hand on his stomach, pressing gently.
He twitched. “MATSUMOTO!!!!”
She winced, covering her ears. “Ok, ok. Sorry, sorry. What’s wrong?”
He pinned her with his chilling gaze. “You can start with this.” He threw the note at her. “This.” He gestured towards the blue yukata. “And these.” He pointed to his bandaged head and ankle. “And why am I in your bed?” His anger was dulled by a light blush.
“Um…well, it’s kind of a long story…” She scratched the back of her head and shifted her weight.
Hitsugaya stubbornly crossed his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“B-but- our lunch! I’m hungry!” Matsumoto protested. He just shrugged. She just sighed, shivered, voluptuous, exposed breasts jiggling, and relented. She should put a
coat on to prepare for the on-coming blizzard before telling him…
“Well, it all started with some sake…”
He snorted. “That isn’t surprising. But-“ He scrunched his face up cutely. “I don’t drink.”
She ran her fingers through her strawberry blonde waves. “Anou…this time, you did. But you didn’t mean to. It was an accident-“
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Just HOW do you accidentally drink sake?”
Matsumoto sighed, getting frustrated. Why did he have to keep interrupting her? Admitting it was hard enough already! “That’s what I’m TRYING to tell you!” She settled herself further on the bed, her thigh brushing against his side. “I was out doing…doing- doing an errand!- “ He snorted again, knowing this was Matsumoto code for chatting with other officers. “While you did the paperwork, and I’d left my teacup on my desk, only that wasn’t tea in it-“
He could see where this was going. “Teacups are for tea. Tea. And you’re not supposed to drink on the clock!” Hitsugaya pursed his pink lips. Was there no end to her sneakiness? Of course not- this was Matsumoto. A woman who lacked modesty and whose priorities were even more screwed up than her brain. Sake and sleeping were at the top, paperwork and being on time on the bottom.
“That’s the whole point!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms up in exclamation, then frowned. Crap. Back to the drawing board- cute, grumpy Shiro-chan was onto that trail now. Ah, time to forge ahead and blaze new ones! Err…soon as he got better…well, soon as she thawed out after he froze her…
“That way, you wouldn’t know.” A muscle twitched, and she recklessly plunged on. “Anyway, I came back and you were pretty sloshed. I mean, it wasn’t much- I wouldn’t even get a buzz off it. Then again, you’re too young to drink and you’re body’s much smaller than mine- sorry, Toushiro-taichou, but it’s true- And you looked SO cute with your hair all messed up and uniform askew. Quite becoming, taichou. Wish I could see you like that more often. Preferably in my bed-“
“MATSUMOTO!!” His entire face turned crimson.
She grinned cheekily. “Yes, taichou?”
“Finish your explanation, and get your mind out of the gutter, you hentai!”
“Oh, alright. You’re no fun.” She sounded disappointed. “So, anyhow, you went to throw up, but before I could catch you, you tripped on-on…” She broke into a fit of giggles.
“On what?” He was really starting to loose his patience.
“On your own feet!” He blanched. “You’re as clumsy drunk as you are graceful sober. Anyhoos, you twisted your ankle when you fell, and hit your head off the toilet.” She snickered.
He wanted to die. Well, die again, that is. He prayed for the ground to open up and swallow him. He groaned and buried his face in his petite hands. He was never going to live this down. The great Hitsugaya, child prodigy, supposed reincarnation of a Heavenly Guardian, a Celestial Being, defeated by a toilet.
“It was a particularly vicious commode, sir, and you weren’t in full form. You could barely stand, and the evil porcelain attacked out of nowhere.” She tittered in mock-sympathy, patting his arm.
Crap! He’d said that out loud! Hitsugaya pulled the pillow over his head. He was going to suffocate himself. Laughing, Matsumoto pulled the pillow away before he really did. Stubborn brat. He glared at her, well, more at the titanic-sized tits being shoved in his face. She smiled, leaned down, and gave his nose a soft peck. He blushed and she suppressed a squeal- he as beyond adorable, and she had him in her bed, all to herself.
She continued with her tale- it wasn’t even at the good part yet. “You were unconscious, so I took you to Unohana-taichou, who, by the way, gave me a stern lecture-“ Here he smirked as if to say, ‘good’. “And, well, cuz of your concussion, you couldn’t be left unattended; too easy to slip into a coma. So she left you under my watch. You lay on the couch while I did paperwork ALL day.”
Her tone grew pitiful, as if searching for sympathy because, for once, SHE got stuck with all of the tedious paperwork. Hah! Fat chance of him feeling sorry for her. In fact, he regretted not being conscious to enjoy it. See how she liked it when the tables were turned! He smiled like a cat full of cream, and the room slowly warmed back up.
“Then it was evening, and the paperwork STILL wasn’t done, but Renji and Kira were going out for a nightcap and invited me. Then Yachiru burst in, running from Yumichika, who said that since he was keeping an eye on her while Zaraki-taichou was out, he’d watch you too for a bit.”
His smile quickly turned into a scowl. “I believe the term he used was ‘baby sit’. “ Hitsugaya groused. “And that still doesn’t explain this!” He gestured angrily at the pretty yukata.
Matsumoto snickered. “Thank Hinamori for that- it’s her yukata.” He paled visibly. “Yumichika was painting Yachiru’s nails when she got the idea to make you feel better. So, she painted your nails. And Yumichika declared you looked like a little ghost with your white hair, white skin, and that white yukata. That’s when Hinamori came in to get your opinion on which kimono she should wear for her dinner-date with Aizen-taichou. Yachiru asked for her help making you look..” Snicker. “..pretty. So in exchange for her help, Yumichika did her hair and Hinamori gave them an old yukata that she’d outgrown. Though, it’s a bit big on you-“
“YOU’RE ALL INSANE!!!” Hitsugaya howled in rage, air chilling rapidly as his reiatsu gathered.
“Aw, taichou, it’s not that bad-“
“I’m a boy! B-O-Y! In a girl’s yukata!!”
“But you’re adorable-“
“I’m not a cross-dressing, fairy peacock!!”
“Oi, can’t ya keep it down, Ran-chan? Some of us, unlike you, DO work.” Both heads swiveled to the door at the cool, oddly accented voice that belonged to an even odder man.
“Ichimaru.” Hitsugaya hissed. Though he couldn’t see the creep’s eyes, he could FEEL them raking over him. He pulled the blankets up higher.
“Very lovely, little Hitsugaya. No wonder Ran-chan won’t play with me anymore. Not with such a delight in her bed.”
Matsumoto moved protectively in front of her taichou. Ichimaru was her childhood friend, and over the years they often ‘played’ together, so she knew full well what happened when he got that glint in his eye. The object of that glint was often in for a rough- if highly enjoyable- time. She’d seen the marks on Kira’s body, and experienced them herself multiple times. But she couldn’t stand to see her Toushiro-taichou like that. And right now, that glint was for him. “Is there something I can help you with, Ichimaru-taichou?”
Ichimaru’s smile widened at her protective gesture. So she finally found someone she wouldn’t share, much like he had with Kira. Still, it never hurt to ask. “Care to share that tempting morsel behind you?” He leaned casually against the door frame, grinning and peering over Matsumoto’s shoulder to the taichou in her bed.
Hitsugaya squeaked and pulled the covers over his head. Laying a hand on his blanket covered leg, Matsumoto stared evenly at her long time friend. “Sorry, no. Now, if that’s all, kindly leave, Ichimaru-taichou.”
He chuckled. “Too precious to share? I see. Very well, then. I don’ wanna keep ya from yer …activities.” He said the last word with a leer to the small lump in her bed, then he turned and left.
Matsumoto snorted then turned around. “Shiro-chan?” She pulled down the blankets and was met with an aquamarine glare that was ruined by the bright blush below it.
“Don’t you Shiro-chan me, Matsumoto. You’re on thin ice. You’re about to turn into ice.”
She blanched then snorted again. “Fine, you win.” She settled herself on the floor and grabbed her bowl, ignoring him and concentrating extra hard on her food.
Hitsugaya stubbornly stared at the ceiling before her loud munching and his rumbling stomach got the better of him. He braced his hands on the mattress and carefully, slowly, oh so slowly, sat up.
He got barely even half way up when a loud crunch from Matsumoto made him jerk his head; sharp pain lanced through his skull. “Itai!” He gasped, falling backwards. His head never hit the awaiting pillow; strong arms caught him, easily gathering him against an overly plump chest.
His vision swam; he closed his eyes and waited until his head stopped spinning from the sudden movement. “Toushiro, let me help you.” Matsumoto ran long fingers through his thick, soft hair.
“I’d say you’ve ‘helped’ enough, Rangiku.” He was still pissed. Well, considering all that had happened to him, he had a right to be.
She exhaled loudly. “It wasn’t like I knew they were gonna do that to you. It wasn’t planned- at least, not on my part. Besides, a yukata is a yukata, and you look adorable!”
“Yukata I can live with. Nail polish, however, is crossing the line and then some.”
“Fine. After lunch I’ll take it off for you.” She felt him nod against her in agreement. “Think you’re okay to sit up by yourself now?” She felt him nod again, his fluffy hair brushing against her skin, then she heard his stomach grumble. Smiling, she propped the pillows up to support him, then slowly eased him backwards. She set his bowl on his lap, then settled herself back down onto the floor with her own bowl.
Hitsugaya peered down into his, scrunching his pert nose up in distaste. It was a suspicious looking, murky, dark brown broth that resembled the contents of fourth division’s buckets when they cleaned out the sewers. There were no vegetables, meats, or seasoning of any kind visible; just watery, opaque broth.
Tipping his head forward, closer to the bowl, he tentatively sniffed. Immediately, he jerked back, small hands clasped over his mouth and nose, teal eyes wide. It looked like sludge from a clogged toilet and smelled worse. Like sewer sludge, stagnant swamp, and rotting corpses all fermented together in a not-so-appetizing brew. No one seriously could expect him to eat THAT! Holding his breath, he pushed the bowl as far away as possible.
Crunching happily on her own meal, Matsumoto glanced sideways at her taichou when she heard movement on the mattress. “Toushiro-taichou?” He was curled up tightly against the pillows, covering his nose and mouth protectively and glaring at his lunch.
He dare not take his eyes off the bowl- something horribly evil must be lurking in its murky depths. Like leftover bits of decayed hollow guts. He shuddered, stomach churning at the thought. “I’m not hungry.” He mumbled, voice muffled by his hands.
She popped a juicy morsel from her bowl into her mouth, chewing loudly and licking her lips in satisfaction. “Unohana-taichou said it won’t upset your stomach.”
“She’s right. It won’t. Because it’s not going in my stomach!” He glared at the bowl warily, as if expecting a hollow to jump out from the stinky brown broth and gobble him up.
“Shiro-chan-“
“YOU take a bite first, then.” He cut her off, sea foam green eyes turning to her challengingly.
Matsumoto looked at his bowl, curled her full lips in distaste, and promptly shoved her mouth full with her own food. His huge eyes traveled down to her bowl, and his face slackened in shock.
Fruit. Freshly picked, sun-ripened fruit, slightly chilled and cut into juicy, bite size chunks. Apples. Pears. Grapes. Pineapples. Oranges. Peaches. Cherries. Strawberries. Bananas. Kiwi. Mango. Cantaloupe. Black berries, blue berries, raspberries, you name it, it was in there. It was a smorgasbord of fruit, cool juices mixing together, dribbling down the busty blonde’s chin every time she took a bite, chilled fruit crunching under strong white teeth-
And watermelon. Fresh, crunchy, juicy, sweet, watermelon. His stomach rumbled loudly; he blushed and licked his lips, eyes never leaving her bowl and the chunks of delicious, tempting, red watermelon within. He was hungry- okay, starving- and watermelon was his absolute, hands down favorite. But it was over there, in HER bowl.
In his- he glanced down at his bowl, and blanched. He was stuck with soupy goop while she had ambrosia.
He looked back and forth from the bowls. The more he stared, the better her lunch looked. The more he gaped at hers, the stronger the stench from his own seemed to grow. When she stuck a huge chunk of watermelon in her mouth, crunched loudly, then moaned in appreciation of its juicy deliciousness, his decision was made.
The only problem was how to get from the bed all the way across the floor to Matsumoto and her melons. He lightly fingered the thick bandaging around his twisted ankle. Walking was out of the question. He eyed the distance some more. It wasn’t too far. He’d have to be careful not to jar his head- no sudden movements. It was do-able. Not ideal, but better than being stuck over here with that nauseating concoction.
Matsumoto noisily slurped the juice from an orange slice, tongue sliding past her full lips to lick the juice clinging to her long fingers. She smirked to herself, peering discretely at her taichou as he carefully crawled over to her on his hands and knees. She really wished she had a camera- no one would believe her. Well, at least she could revel in the moment. Still, a memento would be nice.
She fished out a watermelon hunk and started to raise it to her lips, cool juice dripping down her sticky, slender hand. A light weight suddenly settled into her lap, small fingers grabbed her hand, and soft lips covered her long fingers, small white teeth deftly snatching the fruit from her hold.
Hitsugaya snuggled into his cushiony fukutaichou, happily munching his prize. Her long body made the perfect cushion as he curled up atop those long legs. And her abundant breasts made the perfect pillow as he leaned his head back. Over the centuries, he’d come into contact with them enough not to be intimidated. She hugged him on a daily basis, shoving his face in between those monstrous mounds and nearly suffocating him. Standing, he was eyelevel with them, and any time taichou and fukutaichou bumped into one another, his face ended up stuffed between them.
Matsumoto served as a comfy cushion for the short taichou as he hungrily dug into her lunch. She smiled, running a hand through his hair then slipped her arms around his slim waist. She crowed triumphantly and buried her face in his fluffy, thick hair while he pushed fruit chunks out of his way in his search for more watermelon.
“Ne, Shiro-chan, that’s MY lunch.” She fake-whined, smirking into his hair. She really shouldn’t have messed with his lunch, but when opportunity knocked, she never failed to answer. It had been so easy, too- the fourth division members assigned to kitchen duty were terrified of her, the fukutaichou of the tenth division. But her short taichou snuggled in her arms- willingly- made her tiny inkling of guilt disappear as fast as it had appeared.
He tilted his head back in her arms, watermelon juice dribbling down his chin as he peered up at her. “You can have mine then.” He said evenly, and smirked as her lips curled in distaste, plopping a fruit chunk in his mouth and crunching happily.
“Ick! As if!” She huffed- what she’d put in the broth would make even Orihime wary. She sighed overly dramatic in resignation. “Oh, alright, I GUESS I can SHARE.” She over emphasized the words, as if it pained her to share her lunch. Never mind the chocolate mousse cheesecake she’d snitched from Byakuya-taichou’s lunch tray. Now THAT was something not worth sharing- it was too damn delicious. She just hoped the aristocrat never found out it was she who stole his dessert. Well, she could always blame Yachiru, so it really wasn’t a problem.
Hearing the pout in her voice, Hitsugaya paused, pink tongue darting out to lick his lips. He chewed thoughtfully, more juice leaking out of his mouth. Matsumoto hadn’t really meant to cause all this trouble for him- it just sort of happened. His busty, bubbly fukutaichou was a magnet for trouble, usually of her own doing. She hadn’t intended him to get entangled up in the mess, so it really wasn’t fair of him to be so harsh with her.
Feeling guilty, he rose up on his knees, careful not to jar his injured ankle, whispered a soft “Thank you” in her ear then kissed her softly on the cheek, getting watermelon juice on her in the process.
“Thank you.” Matsumoto’s jaw fell open in shock when she felt his warm breath wash over her ear, making her shiver, then his soft lips wet with fruit juice press against the side of her face, touch light as a butterfly’s wing. Her cornflower blue eyes sparkled in delight, and she bit back a squeal as her taichou settled himself back down, nuzzling against her huge breasts as he made himself comfortable once more.
Her huge grin nearly matched the size of her abundant chest, revealing her strong white teeth. She wrapped one arm tightly around his slender form, hugging him to her. She wanted to squeal loudly and glomp him, but she didn’t want him to yell at her and leave her lap. “Anytime, Shiro-chan!” She chirped and settled for kissing the top of his head.
Hitsugaya fished out a chunk of pineapple, frowning at it. He wanted watermelon, not pineapple. He was about to put it back into the bowl when strong, lean fingers wrapped around his slim wrist, catching his hand and raising it above his head. Full lips covered his own fingers, gently taking the fruit from his hold, then a warm tongue licked the juice from the digits.
His face grew warm as he blushed, hastily pulling his hand back. He curled in tighter against her, ducking his head to hide from her oceanic gaze. “Ne, Toushiro-chan, what’s wrong?” Matsumoto lightly ran a sticky hand along his bare arm, and he shivered, shaking his head.
“You’re blushing, aren’t you?!” He kept his head lowered, face pressed into one big boob.
“N-No I’m not!” He squawked, still not looking at her. His heart thudded in his chest.
She giggled. “Sure, taichou.” It was the same voice, same words she used when she wasn’t taking him seriously. She knew he was lying- and she loved every moment of it.
“Matsumoto!” He cut off her delighted snicker.
“What, Shiro-taichou?” She nuzzled the top of his head with her cheek, delighting in how soft and thick his spiky hair was.
“You know perfectly well what.” She frowned- she’d pushed him too far, and he was getting grumpy again. Her long fingers dove to the bottom of the bowl, fished out a watermelon chunk, and offered it to him.
Hitsugaya stared at it- he knew it was a peace offering, and she wanted nothing more than for him to snuggle with her again. He weighed his options; he could either get up and leave, crawling back over to his bowl brimming with muck, or sit here in her lap-which was quite comfortable- and eat watermelon. Yeah, tough choice there. All it required was a small sacrifice of pride. He glanced down at the blue yukata of Hinamori’s he wore- it’s not like he had much pride left anyway.
But he’d be damned if he let her get away with it. Gingerly, he took the proffered fruit, careful to avoid her fingertips, much to her disappointment, then cuddled into her, head pillowed on her plump boob. She squeezed him in delight, gently stroking the thick bandage running round his temple like a wide, white headband.
Hitsugaya let Matsumoto enjoy herself for a few more moments while he chewed then swallowed. His little tongue licked his lips again. “You’re so squishy.”
“What?!” She blinked. Squishy? Squishy, as in containing excess body fat? “Are you calling me fat?!”
He felt her bristle, and he nuzzled her; she calmed, but her happy contentment was gone. “Of course not.” He used her placating tone back on her. “I’m just saying you’re comfy. Like a couch.”
She, Matsumoto Rangiku, pin up girl of the Shinigami world, was being compared to a couch?! Had anyone else said that, she’d tear them limb from bloody limb then rip them into a thousand tiny, itsy bitsy pieces. But this was her cute, grumpy taichou.
Hitsugaya smirked. He had her right where he wanted her. She was off guard. Before the fukutaichou could say anything, he grasped her shoulders and rose up on his knees so he was face level with her. Big turquoise eyes- almost too large for his face- stared into hers as he rubbed his pert little nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss. Her insides melted; her instinct was to glomp and cuddle him. Her Toushiro NEVER acted like this! But it was SOO cute!
“Ne, Rangiku-san, would you do something for me?” He couldn’t bring himself to say “Ran-chan” like all her drinking buddies called her. He wanted to ask her outright, but doing so would give her an opportunity to wriggle out of it. Yes, sometimes in war you had to be devious and take paths you normally wouldn’t choose. He kissed her cheek. “Onegai.” [Please]
It was too much for the poor fukutaichou to take. She squealed and cuddled him happily- he winced as she hugged him tightly, but for once his face wasn’t smashed into the bulging beasts. “Anything for my Shiro-chan!” She squealed happily.
His smirk widened. “Do the paperwork for me.” She froze in horror, arms slack about him. He turned around and slid back down to her lap, grabbed a chunk of watermelon and munched happily.
“W-wha…” Matsumoto lingered in shock, brain trying to process the request. “B-but…but..-“ She’d just agreed to do the paperwork, which currently sat merrily multiplying on his desk in the dim office. Her mind raced, trying to find a way out, but he’d trapped her like a rat. He’d cornered her with his cuteness. And she fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
Picking up the empty bowl, Hitsugaya drank the leftover, mixed fruit juices from the dish’s bottom, positively beaming. Matsumoto slumped around him in defeat, face gloomy. How dare he beat her at her own game! Sometimes, the white-haired prodigy was too smart for HER own good.
OWARI