I am RUSHED because I have to go get ready to meet my uncle for dinner, but wrote these as quickly as possible in the meantime. ^^;;
266.
Title: Bentos of Love
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: ShuuxYumi, IkkakuxKira, Iba, Renji
Word Count: 530
Warning/s: No spoilers.
Summary: Remember
#59 (Bento of Love)? Well. Now I continue, some 200+ drabbles later. Heh. - Ikkaku as a newlywed.
Dedication:
antiparallel- picture of Kira baking=NEEDED TO WRITE DOMESTICITY. I blame you for the sudden influx of Kira, Kira, Kira, KIRA in the writing. :P
A/N: CAKE.
Shuuhei was used to it by now but Ikkaku thought that it was a little weird, because before it had always been like, all the guys and then Hisagi. But now it was him and Hisagi with Renji and Iba giving both of them patronizing looks.
It was just lunch for crying out loud.
Shuuhei, noticing his cohort’s discomfort, gave him a sideways look that said something about karma and calmly ate his five-star bento like it was nothing.
Thinking it wasn’t that big a deal, Ikkaku looked down at the box perched atop his lap. Right. No big deal. It just had some shrimp and some fish, some vegetable tempura, and a radish cut into a flower, and… a heart-shaped onigiri that had a heart-shaped umeboshi right in the middle.
Yeah. Nothing fancy or anything.
He looked at it and wondered if maybe it was too pretty to eat.
Catching his intent focus on the aesthetics of his lunch, Iba and Renji tsked at the bald death god. “Goin’ over to the dark side, man,” Iba murmured before turning to Shuuhei and adding, “You’re a damn bad influence Hisagi, you hear me?” The seventh division vice-captain was plainly disgusted with his better-fed companions.
Shuuhei rolled his eyes. “Dark side’s fed better,” he murmured by way of excuse before popping one of those cute little octopus wieners Yumi liked to make into his mouth.
“I woulda expected this from senpai, maybe,” Renji began, stirring at his commissary gruel absently, “But dammit, Ikkaku, how early didja make poor Kira get up so he could make that little masterpiece for ya, huh?”
Ikkaku felt his cheeks turn slightly pink. “Aw, shaddup Renji. You know I didn’t make him do anything. I woke up and it was waitin’ for me. Even had a note and everything. Wanna read it?” Madarame snarled defensively.
“Che. Save the sugar for dessert there, Ikkaku,” Iba rumbled, wiping his mouth clean of greasy sauce with the back of his hand. “Real men eat commissary food, ain’t that right, Abarai?”
“Damn straight.”
“You two’re just jealous. Assholes… you’d jump the first chance you could get to have a lunch like this,” Ikkaku muttered, feeling defensive of Kira’s hard work. “Just ‘cause me’n Shuuhei lucked out doesn’t mean ya gotta act like we’ve turned traitor or somethin’. Right, Hisagi?”
Shuuhei nodded as he uncapped his thermos and poured himself a cup of tea. “Yup.”
Feeling vindicated, Ikkaku pushed on. “’Sides, if Kira wants to do this sorta thing, I ain’t gonna hold it against him. I don’t expect it either, so it’s not like I make him cook up all this good stuff. Don’t make him shape the onigiri into hearts or force him to cut my radishes all flowery or tell him that I want chocolate cake or anything like that. And I always thank him afterwards and…” he trailed off when he realized all three of the other men were looking at him now. “What?”
Shuuhei blinked. “You get cake? I don’t get cake.” Pause. “Kira makes cake?”
Ikkaku slapped a palm to his forehead and hunched over his bento protectively. “Forget it. Just eat your lunches, assholes.”
END
267.
Title: Responsible
Rating: PG
Pairing/Character/s: HitsugayaxMatsumoto (implied)
Word Count: 543
Warning/s: No spoilers, but randomness ahoy.
Summary: Even all grown up, Hitsugaya Toushirou is first and foremost, a captain of the Gotei-13.
Dedication:
tokki-chan and the new
hitsumatsu community! Here’s to a long, prosperous future and many awesome fanworks. ^^
A/N: It’s been a while since I wrote these two? So I’m out of practice, but it was fun to try again. ^^;;
He’s taller now. His shoulders have broadened and his limbs elongated. He’s still lean but he has a definition to his musculature that he didn’t have some years ago, a pure, physical strength that can finally match the strength his reiatsu had reached in his youth.
He’s got angles now too, sharper planes on his face and a nice v-shape to his torso that the girls blush and giggle over. His eyes aren’t so big that they take up half his face anymore and his strides have become long enough to look graceful even when he has to walk fast.
“Histugaya-taichou has become a man,” they say, the older captains laughing and shaking their heads at how fast time flies.
So its no wonder the girls flock around him five or six at a time, offering him homemade gifts of food or clothing and asking him if he’s free later. They always turn charmingly pink and smile shyly at him when they plan on confessing; trying to get him to meet them in private to talk, out by the sakura trees.
They’re pretty enough, sweet enough, small and cute and friendly enough that anyone would be happy to be with them, he thinks.
They’re the kind of girls you’re supposed to bring home to mother and father, who you’re supposed to pledge your life to and build a future with and fall so much in love with that it hurts.
They’re the kind of girls any man would be proud to have at his side.
But when they ask him, Hitsugaya Toushirou always says, “I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” before bowing out.
He usually leaves them then, and they are sometimes baffled and sometimes hurt at the abruptness of his departures.
But he always leaves them behind without a backwards glance.
They’re the kind of girls-sweet and pretty and cute-that other men would be proud to take home to mother and father.
But Hitsugaya always bows out and says, “I have a lot of work to do today,” before promptly returning to his office, where he knows his desk will be piled high with paperwork. It always is. And there is always enough of it that he knows he’ll have to stay there and work late into the night. It might have been annoying for its consistency, but he finds himself looking forward to it more often than not, looking forward to the quiet of his captain’s seat in his captain’s office deep in the heart of the tenth division headquarters.
His peers think it’s crazy. Why defer the right to escort those beautiful girls someplace nice in order to do boring old paperwork late into the night?
He doesn’t really know the answer to that question himself, but he does know that there’s something satisfying about returning to his office to find his desk completely covered in paperwork save for one spot, where there is always a hot cup of tea waiting for him.
Perhaps it’s a little bit odd, but he thinks that all those cute, sweet, pretty girls who want so badly to spend some time with him just can’t measure up to that one cup of tea.
Or the, “Welcome back, taichou,” that always accompanies it.
END
268.
Title: Dirty Pool
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: Renji+Byakuya, ShuuxYumi, IkkakuxKira
Word Count: 668
Warning/s: No real spoilers, but some OOCness. XD
Summary: Sequel to
#265 (Matchmaking)- The mission is underway.
Dedication:
sw_inku because the promise of art gives me JOY. Also to
nini_sa for sharing that great OT3 pic (complete with Ishida rape!). XD
A/N: This is just silly. Honestly, I wrote this entirely for Ikkaku. ENTIRELY.
“Y-you…I mean… y-you do like him, don’t you, Renji?” Kira asks shyly, cheeks turning pink at just the thought of it.
Renji growls and tears his eyes away from his old classmate before covering his ears with his hands. “Stop it. I mean it Kira. Get that damn look off yer face right now. That’s some dirty fuckin’ pool.”
Kira’s smile fades and his eyes begin to water ever so slightly at the accusation. “Sorry! I didn’t, I’m…”
“Hey!! The hell’d you do to Kira?” Ikkaku demands, having returned from his bathroom break just in time to see his boyfriend’s eyes start to get all watery.
Shit.
Before the giant bald marshmallow (seriously, no pride, this guy) can completely freak out, Renji sighs and drags his hands away from his ears. “I didn’t do nothin’, ya great dick-whipped idiot.” He points at the blond accusatorily. “He’s tryin’ to manipulate me!”
Kira looks stricken. “I…”
Ikkaku is right there at Izuru’s side before a single tear can fall. “Aw, baby, I’ll kill him. Yeah? That make you feel better?” he asks, voice gentle. “I’ll beat the ever-lovin’ shit out of him, you just say the word.”
Kira shakes his head. “I just…I want him to be happy too!”
Renji thinks that Yumichika must have put the blonde up to this because there’s no damn way in hell Kira would use his powers for evil otherwise.
“Che. Well, I hope you’re happy, asshole,” Madarame starts, throwing a protective arm over his lover and rubbing his shoulders soothingly. “He’s just tryin’ to help, ya know.”
Abarai grits his teeth. “I’m tellin’ you just like I told everyone else. Kuchiki-taichou is off limits. Your crazy ass schemes don’t work with guys like that. Maybe it does on some low-level thugs and tight-ass vice-captain pretty boys, but…”
Ikkaku’s eyes narrow dangerously. “What’re you tryin’ to say there, Abarai?”
Not intimidated by his bald friend, Renji straightens and states, “I’m tryin’ to say that Kuchiki-taichou ain’t the kind of guy I can just walk up to and ask, “Hey, taichou… got any thug in ya? No? Ya want some?” and have him fall all over me beggin’ for it.”
Kira blushes pink.
Ikkaku clamps two hands over his lover’s ears. “When the hell did you get so damn crude?” he grunts, frowning disapprovingly.
Renji stares at the other death god and thinks that love really changes a guy. “You’re a dip-shit, you know that, Ikkaku?”
Madarame growls. “Yeah? Well, at least I ain’t the one Yumi and Hisagi are talkin’ to Kuchiki-taichou about right now.”
Renji blinks. “What?”
“You heard me. Yumi and his boy toy’re havin’ tea with Kuchiki right now and probably talkin’ to the great walkin’ iceberg ‘bout how he might get some thug in him, if ya know what I mean.”
Renji is too shell-shocked to call Ikkaku a hypocrite for his use of similarly crude language. “T-the hell? How’d that fruitcake arrange that?”
Ikkaku, finding his advantage in the argument, grins. “Guess you didn’t know Yumi ain’t exactly ‘low-level thug’, didja?” he crows, withdrawing his hands from over Kira’s ears because the blonde is looking put-out at not being able to join in on the conversation too. “Ain’t one of the huge ones, but a noble house is a noble house all the same, and he can request an audience with that stuffed-shirt if he wants to ‘cause of it.”
Abarai pales even further. “So…he’s…”
“Yup.”
“I think it’s terribly romantic…” Kira interjects in his most gentle tone on Renji’s expression. “Urm…”
Renji screams and takes off running.
Ikkaku and Kira watch him go.
After a minute, Madarame allows a sideways glance at his lover, who looks completely composed and normal again.
He blinks. “Na…Kira,” he starts carefully, “were you um…really… ya know… manipulatin’ him just now?”
Kira looks up innocently at the other death god. “Is that what it was?”
Ikkaku decides that maybe it’s time to stop letting Kira hang out with Yumichika in his free time.
END
EDITS PLEASE.