Mistletoe Misfire | Fanfiction
Title: Mistletoe Misfire
Author: zoldyck_fan, windlily, "Hey, you!"
Prompts: Mistletoe, Karaoke, "It's not my fault!"
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: IchiHitsu, HitsuIchi
Warnings: Lengthy (kinda got away from me), some language, frantic!Ichigo, author attempting her first real step into the romantic genre
Disclaimer: I do not own Hitsugaya or Kurosaki or anything else that I do not own.
Summary: Written for kanonkyoya for the ichihitsu Holiday Exchange. Two wrongs may not make a right, but that picture would probably make an excellent Christmas card.
Hahah. Well, here's my attempt at a holiday exchange fic. Hope it helps to ease at least some of the pain I caused kanon. ^^
~*~
Mistletoe Misfire
~*~
“Fall not in love, therefore; it will stick to your face.”
-National Lampoon
~*~
There was something wrong with him.
Plenty of people had said such of him in the past, but he’d never believed it until now. He was Hitsugaya Toushirou, captain of the Tenth Division and wielder of the strongest ice-based zanpakutou in Seireitei. He’d never had any reason to believe it. Not until he met one Kurosaki Ichigo.
His contact with the strange hybrid human/shinigami had been little to none during his stay in Seireitei. As he’d been running obliviously about with the Eleventh, Hitsugaya had been, well, otherwise occupied, to put it nicely. And even afterward, the impulsive ryoka had had no reason to go out of his way to waste time with strangers when he needed to smooth things over with those he actually knew. Matsumoto had gone on at great length about him at one point, and he’d even shared a word or two of greeting with the high school boy before he’d left. But that was the extent of it. The idiot had insisted on calling him Toushirou. Needless to say, Hitsugaya hadn’t been intent on extending what little conversations they had shared.
After that, however, came Hitsugaya’s mission to the living realm, and things began to shift in a very different direction. Having that time to observe him, calculate his motives, understand his blunt, unyielding personality, it was interesting at the very least. He yelled a lot, was easily baited and actually rather gullible, was honest to a fault, didn’t think before he ran head first into the most dangerous situations he could find, had a hero-complex as large as Kurotsuchi-taichou’s ego, and was denser than anyone he had ever met, including Inoue. In short, he was one of the last people Hitsugaya would usually want to spend time with.
But then, as soon as he stopped yelling, he’d know exactly what to say to ease the tension again; he could bait just as easily as he could be baited; that overwhelming, certainly unnecessary honesty would begin to illicit amused huffs rather than irritated ones; half-way through his mad dash, he’d pause just long enough for those with him to catch up and make sure he didn’t get himself killed like the idiot he was; and slowly but surely that utter naivety became somewhat endearing. And damn it if he didn’t feel possessive of it all. It was as if Kurosaki became a different person every time Hitsugaya learned something new about him.
The Strawberry wasn’t changing though; it was Hitsugaya who was changing.
The Strawberry was still obnoxious, loud, and impulsive; only now, somehow, Hitsugaya was beginning to enjoy it when he was obnoxious, loud, and impulsive.
And since when had Hitsugaya ever referred to someone using anything other than the person’s proper surname, even in his head? Especially in his head!
Apparently since he had caught a glimpse of that damn redhead taking his shirt off after a training session.
Oh, yes. There was definitely something wrong with him.
At least, that was where his train of thought had led him as he sat atop a brick divider in Karakura Park, waiting for the very teenager who was occupying his thoughts. Why the idiot had invited him to spend the day with him, Hitsugaya wasn’t sure, but the excuse he’d given was something along the lines of Hitsugaya seeming distracted lately. Because spending a day with the object of his distraction was going to help him focus. Why had he agreed to this again?
Oh, right. He’d been distracted, hadn’t he?
It figured.
“Oi, Toushirou!” The expectant call rang loud and clear above the week day traffic, and with a resigned sigh, Hitsugaya forced himself to track down its origin. Kurosaki Ichigo offered a quick wave in welcome as he approached, the small smirk twitching at the edge of his lips likely a show of amusement at Hitsugaya’s choice of perch, which made him just tall enough that Kurosaki wouldn’t have to look down. “So you actually showed up, huh?” he asked wryly.
Hitsugaya huffed, trying to sound more annoyed than he really was. “Matsumoto and Inoue kicked me out,” he explained, and Kurosaki couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
“Of course that’d be the only way they’d get you to have some fun.”
The other boy was dressed in a hooded sweatshirt, a large scarf, and a pair of slim blue jeans, the logo of some cereal company scrawled colorfully across the front of his chest. Very casual, then. He had probably thrown on the first thing he found. Hitsugaya wasn’t exactly sure why that made him feel a small pang of disappointment. Not letting himself dwell on it, he brushed the thought aside and hopped deftly from the brick divider, landing soundlessly on the ground beside Kurosaki.
“And where exactly are we going to be having this fun?”
“Karin’s got a game today. I heard you played with her a bit, thought you might find it interesting to watch. But if you don’t want to do that, there are plenty of places to go around here. After that, we can have some lunch and decide what to do from there,” he clarified.
The white-haired shinigami snorted. In other words, Kurosaki hadn’t planned much of anything. And what little he had planned was questionable at best. If the substitute shinigami cared so little about the time he spent with him that he didn’t even bother to make plans, why go out of his way to make Hitsugaya come anyway? He paused for a moment, looking the substitute shinigami up and down. “She told you you could take me to the game because you couldn’t think of anywhere else to drag me, didn’t she?”
The flustered, gaping stare he received was verification enough, and the young captain turned in the direction of the soccer field on the other side of the park. “Well, how am I supposed to know where you’d wanna go? All you ever do is sit around and play with that phone of yours. I figured it didn’t matter where we went, as long as it got you away from all that work,” he grumbled, valiantly defending his plans as he caught up with his companion.
Hitsugaya wished he could see Kurosaki’s expression, but that would require turning around, and he wasn’t about to do that anytime soon. There was no way in hell he was going to let the taller boy see his own amused smirk. “It’s fine, Kurosaki,” he reassured. “I don’t mind.”
He really didn’t. It was the honest truth. Kurosaki may not care that much about today, but Hitsugaya did. And, really, what did it matter where they were as long as his official distraction was around to keep him company?
But because he didn’t look back, he missed the unconvinced frown spreading across Kurosaki’s lips and the guilty way he looked down at the ground as they started their walk to the field.
~*~
There was something wrong with him.
Well, aside from all the other things that were wrong with him anyway. Couldn’t he just be normal for once in his life? He couldn’t have darker hair, he couldn’t stay out of fights even if he wanted to, he couldn’t be a normal high school student, and now he couldn’t find a nice girl to spend the rest of his life with? Of course, not. Not if the way his eyes gravitated toward Toushirou’s ass was any indication.
Ichigo had said he wanted to get Toushirou outside because he seemed distracted. And it was true, really. But that wasn’t the only reason. What with the war coming and everything, he’d just been struck with this dread that he might not be able to see the squirt again. Something might happen to him or to Toushirou, or the kid might just decide he didn’t want to come back to Karakura again. Certainly he didn’t have any reason to stick around. And just like that, there’d be no more adorable pouts or scowls, no more witty, snarking comebacks, no more flushed “That’s Hitsugaya-taichou to you!”s.
He wasn’t exactly sure when he had begun to look forward to those things. When the little guy had first hopped up onto his window, going on about how dangerous the upcoming war was going to be, he hadn’t felt like this in the least. Toushirou had just been Toushirou. But the longer Toushirou stuck around, complained about the pointless classes and having to wear the school uniform, spent the night on his roof when Rangiku and Orihime had decided to have some sort of girl’s-night-in, grudgingly accepted that for some patrols he really did have to be partnered with the “ignorant” substitute shinigami, the longer he was simply there, the more Ichigo wanted him to stay there. But knowing that that was impossible, he’d wanted to have at least one whole day with him before everything that could go wrong did.
He’d pretty much screwed that up, hadn’t he? Before they even got going, the shinigami genius had busted down his defenses and trampled right on through without a second thought. But that was the point, right? There was nothing to give a thought to. Toushirou was Toushirou, and he was … well, himself. He was the one with the issues; he couldn’t go and shove them on the already overwhelmed captain. Honestly, Toushirou was just a kid, and he already had all that crap to do.
And, holy cow, he was staring at a kid’s ass. He was officially a pedophile. He was one of those creepy guys in coats that hung around school playgrounds.
He was so going to hell.
“What’s all this?”
Ichigo’s downward mental spiral was immediately halted when he heard Toushirou’s miffed question, and he looked up just in time to see all of the seasonal decorations being put up across the store fronts on the other side of the street. Lights and wreaths and pine trees littered the walkway, and the smaller boy was staring at them in disdain.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Christmas,” he deadpanned. It took everything in his power not to gape.
“Of course I have,” came the huffed response. “I just … wasn’t expecting it to already be…”
Ichigo shook his head, holding back a chuckle. “Time got away from you, huh? See? You really did need to get out. I expect to hear a thank you later.”
There was not a second’s hesitation before Toushirou grunted back, “Not likely.” But then he paused again, those teal-green eyes locked onto something above them. Curiosity got the better of him, and Ichigo looked up as well. Well, crap. “Are those part of the decorations too?” he heard the squirt ask, but he didn’t trust himself to reply.
Spread across a line of fishing wire from one side of the street to the other was a row of mistletoe. And when Ichigo caught the last few strands of orange hair shuffle out of sight around the corner, he had to gulp. Damn it all. He’d let his, er, interest in the Tenth Division captain slip a few days ago when Rukia held him in a headlock between her knees. What sort of self-destructive demon could have possibly possessed him to think she’d keep a secret like that? Could she have dragged everyone along? His stomach felt like an acid pit, and all the while Toushirou was standing there waiting for a simple yes or no answer. But as he felt the temperature rising in his face and neck, he opened his mouth and something much longer and stupider came out.
“Er, yeah, it’s mistletoe. You know, like that old tradition, when you’re caught under the mistletoe…” A single, pale brow rose in question, and Ichigo decided if he’d already dug his own grave, he might as well lie in it too. “Well, when … when two people are caught together under the mistletoe … they’re supposed to, well … kiss.”
He’d said the last word so quietly that when Toushirou stared at him with that blank, unreadable expression he thought maybe he hadn’t heard him, but then the smallest of twitches overcame the edge of his lips. “Is that what you brought me here to do?”
And Ichigo’s common sense returned in a rush of panic. “N-No!” he forced out, his arms moving wildly about to illustrate just how wrong that was. Dammit! He was supposed to be giving Toushirou some time to relax, not taking advantage of him! “It’s just a couple thing! And it’s a dumb tradition anyway! C’mon! If we don’t get moving, we’ll miss the start of the game!”
He dragged the kid nearly all the way to the field, not giving him time to say anything else first. As selfish as it was, he still wanted the chance to help Toushirou out in any way he could. He didn’t want him to start stalking off before they even made it to the damn soccer game, though he probably deserved as much. And things really were starting to look up as they took their seats in the small, metal fold-out stands.
The game was a close one from the very beginning. Karin was really giving it her all, and the best part was that Toushirou was starting to get into it, loosening up and actually enjoying himself. Ichigo even got him to yell once or twice when Karin made a goal. So, naturally, it was now that things had to get worse again.
It was halfway through the game, and the players were on a fifteen minute break, meaning that Ichigo and Toushirou could go to that pretzel vender they’d been eyeing and buy a snack to tide them over during the second half. On their way over, Ichigo spotted the accursed holiday decoration hanging over the mobile booth and halted midstride. More mistletoe. Dammit, there was no way he was going to make Toushirou think that was what he wanted out of this! Even if it really was what he wanted.
No! Bad, Ichigo!
“On second thought, I’m really not all that hungry,” he hastily intervened, turning back around toward the field. Toushirou looked from the pretzels to his companion for a moment longer before silently returning to his post by Ichigo’s side just in time for the substitute shinigami to stop dead yet again.
Now this was just going too far. He knew for a fact that there hadn’t been anything there a second ago. But now the decorative archway leading to the stands was crowned off with another sprig of mistletoe. This time there was no mistaking the bobbing heads trying to hide themselves behind the metal stands. Oh, hell no. Were they trying to make his life a living hell? And unlike with the pretzel vender, Hitsugaya Toushirou saw this one as clear as day. It was hard not to; they were right under it again.
Ichigo watched in horror as the whole world seemed to slow down, and Toushirou’s lips parted to say something Ichigo knew he didn’t want to hear. His mind cranked into overdrive, and he interrupted with the first thing that came to his head. “Damn, it’s getting cold out here. Maybe we should head inside somewhere. Karin won’t mind. It’s obvious her team’ll win anyway.”
The kid’s mouth instantly clamped shut to make way for a disbelieving frown. Why, oh why, did he have to keep rambling? He never rambled, and yet here he was, going on about it being too cold. That was the best he could come up with? Toushirou had a friggin’ ice zanpakutou for goodness’ sake! And now he sounded like the worst brother to ever walk the earth. But he couldn’t take it back now, and he’d defend his stupid mistake to the grave if he had to. “I didn’t realize you were so susceptible to the weather,” the boy finally drawled. Was that disappointment in his voice? Ichigo dared not consider it; he’d just mistaken his annoyance was all.
But he could salvage this! He could! He was Kurosaki Ichigo, dammit! He’d already said there were plenty of other places around, and there were. Now he just had to figure out something that Toushirou might like enough to take his mind off of Ichigo’s constant screw ups, and as he scanned the nearby buildings, he came up with the perfect idea.
“Oi, Toushirou. Wanna try something new?” A pale brow rose in question, and Ichigo knew he’d caught him hook, line, and sinker. He grabbed the kid’s wrist and pulled him along just enough to show him the direction they were headed before letting go, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate being dragged around for long. “C’mon. It’ll be fun, I promise. Just trust me.”
And it looked like he did, until they stepped into the booth and he saw the karaoke set.
“Kurosaki…” he growled, but Ichigo just ruffled his hair before plopping down on a small couch and picking up a list of songs.
“Aw, come off it. You’ve gotta have a damn good singing voice, so you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. Me, on the other hand…”
“Just don’t expect me to sing any female artists,” the little captain gave his condition as he reluctantly sat down beside him. It didn’t go unnoticed by the substitute shinigami that Toushirou hadn’t told him off for messing with his hair like a kid, but he decided it would be best not to bring it up. It’d be his little secret. Just like the fact that feeling Toushirou’s thigh so close to his own was working wonders for his libido.
“I think you’d be good at it,” he smirked to a chorus of characteristic huffs before turning his attention back to the song choices. “Well, since it’s your first time, we should probably stay away from fast songs and slow songs. You’d think the slow ones would be easy, but they’re not.”
“I’m sure I could handle it.”
“Aren’t slow songs usually girly ones?” he quirked, a teasing smirk playing at the edge of his lips.
“Just because I don’t want to sing them doesn’t mean I can’t. Besides,” a pause, “didn’t you just say I’d be good at it?”
“Is that a challenge?” Ichigo grinned, looking over to his companion just in time to see yet another sprig of mistletoe lowering itself over Toushirou’s head. Hastily, he ripped it off the string it was attached to, hiding the sudden motion by then splaying himself out on the couch. The little guy looked at him oddly a moment but then turned back to the song list, and Ichigo quickly stuffed the offending plant into his back pocket.
“It can be a challenge for you if you want it to be,” he said with a crooked smirk, “but I doubt it will be much of a challenge for me.”
Thanking every god out there that Toushirou hadn’t seemed to notice, he reveled in the boy’s cockiness and pointed mischievously to a duet. “How ‘bout this one? If you sing the girl’s part, I’ll buy lunch.”
“You were going to buy lunch anyway,” came the derisive reply, followed by what might have been either a chuckle or a click of his tongue, Ichigo wasn’t sure.
But even as he said it, Toushirou’s hand reached for the little microphones, and Ichigo paused to marvel at the miracle before him. Well, until Toushirou actually picked them up, snapped some sort of planted trap with a string attached to the ceiling fan above, and more mistletoe came tumbling down on top of them. Toushirou didn’t flinch; Ichigo nearly had a heart attack.
“Aboutthatlunch! Letshaveitnow!” he slurred as he dove for the Tenth captain and raced out of the room.
His mind could hardly keep up with his feet, and before he knew it, they were back on the street, staring at a row of restaurants. Toushirou pulled away from him with a huff, rolling his shoulder less-than-discreetly. Ichigo felt the inevitable wave of guilt rolling over him. He knew he was making everything worse. If the little captain had been distracted before, he was liable to be downright anxious now. Not to mention aggravated.
It was obvious now what Ichigo was doing, and he had no idea how Toushirou would take it. He didn’t want to know how Toushirou would take it because, really, the only way to take it was badly.
“I thought you were cold,” finally came the strained, thinly veiled irritation in his voice.
“Eating something hot oughtta fix that,” he only just managed to counter before walking away, ordering some lunch from a stand that looked to be serving teriyaki bowls. He wasn’t paying as much attention as he should have been. It took everything in him not to give up and just ask Toushirou to kill him now; the kid certainly sounded like he’d do the deed with pleasure. Instead, he settled for getting away for a moment and recomposing himself.
He was Kurosaki Ichigo, and this situation was still salvageable, dammit! He could do anything if he just put his mind to it! If he kept telling himself that, maybe he’d start to believe it too.
The truth was that he was making a total and complete ass out of himself.
He was going to have to murder his friends for this later. He’d be merciful, do it while they were sleeping. Maybe he’d leave some mistletoe behind for extra emphasis. Toushirou had always seemed to appreciate irony.
But until then, he could still save this. The next time Rukia and Co. got the bright idea to set more traps, he could laugh it off or… Dammit! Why hadn’t he just done that before?! Toushirou was sure to think he was a nutcase. Or, well, more of a nutcase than he already thought he was. And for good reason. Even Ichigo was beginning to think he was a nutcase.
He didn’t realize the food was ready until the man at the stand demanded he pay what was owed. Ichigo doled out the necessary coins and picked up the two bowls, turning around to look for Toushirou in the crowd. It took a moment, but he finally spotted him. He wasted no time in heading over, telling himself over and over that he could just apologize and point out his friends and everything would be alright.
And then he jerked to a stop, one of the bowls crashing to the ground.
Toushirou was seated at one of the many tables, and he was looking up again, his face carefully devoid of any emotion. Surrounding the kid in a large circle was a ring of mistletoe branches. A step closer, and they’d be under the mistletoe together again. The little shinigami lowered his gaze from the hanging decorations to the bowl on the ground.
“You dropped one.”
That simple observation finally sent Ichigo over the brink.
“Damn it, Rukia! How is this even possible?!” Toushirou didn’t seem the least bit perturbed as Kuchiki Rukia jumped up from her hiding place in surprise. “Get the hell out of those stupid bushes, and tell me what the hell you guys are trying to pull!”
The indignant Thirteenth Division shinigami was quickly followed by Inoue Orihime, Arisawa Tatsuki, Sado Yasutora, and Ishida Uryuu. How they had all fit in that little bush, Ichigo had no idea. Then a snort from Toushirou and an unexpected, “You too, Matsumoto,” sent Ichigo’s world right down to rock bottom. Rukia had even told other shinigami…?
“I think it’s fairly obvious,” huffed the raven haired woman as dignified as she could considering the situation. “You two are the only ones who don’t see it.”
Ichigo’s eyes bulged.
No. Way. In. Hell.
“What are you talking about?” he growled, daring her to say it out loud. He thanked his lucky stars she didn’t.
“Are you so full of stubbornness that there’s simply no room for your brain?” the woman shot back
“Why do you guys have to go out of your way to piss me off?”
“You do that well enough on your own.”
“This is not my fault! If you guys would just-!”
“Of course it’s your fault, Kurosaki.”
Both Ichigo and Rukia were shocked into silence at the sound of that voice, staring as Hitsugaya Toushirou stood up from his seat and folded his arms neatly across his chest.
“And I expect you to take responsibility for your actions.”
~*~
Screw this. There was something wrong with the whole damn world.
The longer he let this drag on, the worse things got. But Kurosaki had seemed so determined to pretend he wasn’t running away from a stupid Christmas decoration that Hitsugaya had been inclined to let him delude himself, if only because the war was quickly coming upon them and days like this would soon be nonexistent. He endured, despite increasing irritation. He worked with Matsumoto; he could stand Kurosaki’s frantic naivety. Hadn’t he said that it was endearing anyway? Ha. What had he been thinking? But when every single time that he started to get comfortable, every single time it looked like maybe, just maybe, they would both have some time to enjoy themselves, Kurosaki dropped everything and rushed to get as far away from the mistletoe-inspired awkwardness as possible, it was no wonder why the young captain was feeling disappointed.
He tried to tell himself that it was at least better than slaving away in front of that denreishinki and obsessing over the battles to come, tried to make it clear to Kurosaki that he didn’t care if they were buried in mistletoe, tried and tried and tried to keep his temper in check because this was just the way Kurosaki was. One could even say that this was partially Hitsugaya’s fault, as he could have easily spared some time to help the substitute shinigami improve his ability to sense reiatsu, thus saving him from being surprised by their stalkers’ antics.
But then Kurosaki Ichigo just had to go one step too far. He just had to drop their lunch all over the ground. All because of one, little parasitic plant and the superstitions attached to it. So when the strawberry-headed idiot started yelling at Kuchiki, Hitsugaya Toushirou was more than ready to get up and leave. That was, until he saw Matsumoto’s sloppy attempt at charades.
He lived with Matsumoto and Inoue, had known they were up to something before he’d even left the house, but something about the near-pleading way his lieutenant was currently pointing from him to Kurosaki and then smacking her palms together told him that this definitely wasn’t another one of the woman’s normal pranks. She had always had the uncanny ability to see right through him and had blissfully proven that she still had it a few days ago when she walked up behind him, wrapped herself around his shoulders, and asked matter-of-factly, “Had any wet dreams about Kurosaki yet?” He had promptly choked on his own spit, giving her the answer she’d come for. And taking that kind of knowledge into consideration, Hitsugaya could only come to one conclusion.
Damn. They were trying to set him up with the Strawberry.
They were playing around with a captain of the Gotei 13, one of the strongest shinigami to reside in Seireitei. All because he’d had one (just one, damn it!) stupid wet dream. It was absolutely, positively ridiculous. Nothing about it made an iota of sense. The mere thought of a shinigami captain having any sort of personal relationship with a damn high school kid was preposterous. Especially when Kurosaki likely didn’t want anything of the sort.
Wait. Either. He was supposed to use the word either. “Especially when Kurosaki likely didn’t want anything of the sort either.”
Well, crap.
Did that mean he wanted it?
And suddenly Hitsugaya couldn’t take it anymore.
“What do you mean it’s my fault, Toushirou!?” Kurosaki yelled back, his voice only slightly quieter than when he’d been hollering at Kuchiki, red-orange brows furrowed painfully. The entirety of their audience was now staring as Hitsugaya forced himself to put one foot in front of the other until he was less than a meter away. “I would never…”
Before the redhead could say anymore, Hitsugaya pointed upward. Kurosaki’s gaze followed his finger up and up and up to the mistletoe now hanging directly above them. And by the time the taller boy registered the sight, the young captain had grabbed the strings hanging from his sweatshirt and pulled, tightening Kurosaki’s hood and yanking his head down to his own waiting lips.
Reciprocation was instant. Well, that was until Kurosaki realized what he was doing and jerked his head away. There went the second teriyaki bowl, but at least he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. Their audience was now utterly, completely speechless, and Hitsugaya would no longer have to deal with their ridiculous poking and prodding into his personal affairs. Unfortunately, now that the peanut gallery was quiet, he had to deal with the real consequences of his drastic actions.
The substitute shinigami was bright red, and his jaw had gone completely slack in shock. “Wha?! But-! I thought…”
“You thought what, Kurosaki?” he huffed, regretfully letting go of the sweatshirt strings. He supposed this was when Kurosaki was supposed to say he was straight and Hitsugaya was insane before stomping off to yell at Kuchiki some more. He had certainly avoided the concept of a kiss adamantly enough.
“Well, you know. That you’re, like, twelve, and you’re straight. And I’m just some half-shinigami, half-human, half-whoknowswhat freak of nature that you’d never look twice at.”
Hitsugaya's mind did a complete double take, eyes wide in wonder as they took in the unbelievable sight before them. He was serious. Kurosaki really, truly thought that. Even after…? An almost-smile twitched at the edge of his lips.
“You’re a genuine idiot.” You look at me like a little kid; you talk to me the way you’d address a close friend; and you think of me as some sort of god. “It’s … kind of refreshing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kurosaki somehow managed to sound defensive through his still gaping jaw.
Hitsugaya could only snort. “I’ve been dead for over twenty years. I haven’t made a pass at my lieutenant in the fifteen years I’ve known her. And I’m an emotionally crippled child genius leading a military division,” he grunted. “Is that enough reassurance for-”
Anything else he might have intended to say was muffled by Kurosaki’s mouth on his. Eyes closed; lips parted. For a perfect moment, there was no Aizen, no war, no anything except for Hitsugaya Toushirou and Kurosaki Ichigo. And then a camera flash brought reality careening rudely back.
Hitsugaya blinked stupidly at Arisawa Tatsuki proudly holding up a digital camera. Ishida and Inoue had their cell phones out. And Sado Yasutora, completely straight-faced, was giving an angry Kurosaki a thumbs-up. Matsumoto seemed to be simultaneously crying and swooning as Kuchiki Rukia donned a maniacal grin. “You know,” she cooed, “you only have to do it once.”
“Consider it compensation for all the opportunities we missed this morning,” Hitsugaya countered without missing a beat. Kurosaki scowled in embarrassment.
“But in that case, doesn’t he still owe you a lot more?” Inoue prodded innocently, looking a little too pleased with herself at having done the math.
The Tenth Division captain was in no hurry to argue.
Okay. So there was something wrong with him.
And if that over-excited tongue was any indication, there was something wrong with Kurosaki too.
The phrase “two wrongs don’t make a right” came to mind. But, even as their audience oohed and awed at their rather public display, Hitsugaya decided he wholeheartedly disagreed.
~*~
Merry Kisses.
Author: zoldyck_fan, windlily, "Hey, you!"
Prompts: Mistletoe, Karaoke, "It's not my fault!"
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: IchiHitsu, HitsuIchi
Warnings: Lengthy (kinda got away from me), some language, frantic!Ichigo, author attempting her first real step into the romantic genre
Disclaimer: I do not own Hitsugaya or Kurosaki or anything else that I do not own.
Summary: Written for kanonkyoya for the ichihitsu Holiday Exchange. Two wrongs may not make a right, but that picture would probably make an excellent Christmas card.
Hahah. Well, here's my attempt at a holiday exchange fic. Hope it helps to ease at least some of the pain I caused kanon. ^^
~*~
Mistletoe Misfire
~*~
“Fall not in love, therefore; it will stick to your face.”
-National Lampoon
~*~
There was something wrong with him.
Plenty of people had said such of him in the past, but he’d never believed it until now. He was Hitsugaya Toushirou, captain of the Tenth Division and wielder of the strongest ice-based zanpakutou in Seireitei. He’d never had any reason to believe it. Not until he met one Kurosaki Ichigo.
His contact with the strange hybrid human/shinigami had been little to none during his stay in Seireitei. As he’d been running obliviously about with the Eleventh, Hitsugaya had been, well, otherwise occupied, to put it nicely. And even afterward, the impulsive ryoka had had no reason to go out of his way to waste time with strangers when he needed to smooth things over with those he actually knew. Matsumoto had gone on at great length about him at one point, and he’d even shared a word or two of greeting with the high school boy before he’d left. But that was the extent of it. The idiot had insisted on calling him Toushirou. Needless to say, Hitsugaya hadn’t been intent on extending what little conversations they had shared.
After that, however, came Hitsugaya’s mission to the living realm, and things began to shift in a very different direction. Having that time to observe him, calculate his motives, understand his blunt, unyielding personality, it was interesting at the very least. He yelled a lot, was easily baited and actually rather gullible, was honest to a fault, didn’t think before he ran head first into the most dangerous situations he could find, had a hero-complex as large as Kurotsuchi-taichou’s ego, and was denser than anyone he had ever met, including Inoue. In short, he was one of the last people Hitsugaya would usually want to spend time with.
But then, as soon as he stopped yelling, he’d know exactly what to say to ease the tension again; he could bait just as easily as he could be baited; that overwhelming, certainly unnecessary honesty would begin to illicit amused huffs rather than irritated ones; half-way through his mad dash, he’d pause just long enough for those with him to catch up and make sure he didn’t get himself killed like the idiot he was; and slowly but surely that utter naivety became somewhat endearing. And damn it if he didn’t feel possessive of it all. It was as if Kurosaki became a different person every time Hitsugaya learned something new about him.
The Strawberry wasn’t changing though; it was Hitsugaya who was changing.
The Strawberry was still obnoxious, loud, and impulsive; only now, somehow, Hitsugaya was beginning to enjoy it when he was obnoxious, loud, and impulsive.
And since when had Hitsugaya ever referred to someone using anything other than the person’s proper surname, even in his head? Especially in his head!
Apparently since he had caught a glimpse of that damn redhead taking his shirt off after a training session.
Oh, yes. There was definitely something wrong with him.
At least, that was where his train of thought had led him as he sat atop a brick divider in Karakura Park, waiting for the very teenager who was occupying his thoughts. Why the idiot had invited him to spend the day with him, Hitsugaya wasn’t sure, but the excuse he’d given was something along the lines of Hitsugaya seeming distracted lately. Because spending a day with the object of his distraction was going to help him focus. Why had he agreed to this again?
Oh, right. He’d been distracted, hadn’t he?
It figured.
“Oi, Toushirou!” The expectant call rang loud and clear above the week day traffic, and with a resigned sigh, Hitsugaya forced himself to track down its origin. Kurosaki Ichigo offered a quick wave in welcome as he approached, the small smirk twitching at the edge of his lips likely a show of amusement at Hitsugaya’s choice of perch, which made him just tall enough that Kurosaki wouldn’t have to look down. “So you actually showed up, huh?” he asked wryly.
Hitsugaya huffed, trying to sound more annoyed than he really was. “Matsumoto and Inoue kicked me out,” he explained, and Kurosaki couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
“Of course that’d be the only way they’d get you to have some fun.”
The other boy was dressed in a hooded sweatshirt, a large scarf, and a pair of slim blue jeans, the logo of some cereal company scrawled colorfully across the front of his chest. Very casual, then. He had probably thrown on the first thing he found. Hitsugaya wasn’t exactly sure why that made him feel a small pang of disappointment. Not letting himself dwell on it, he brushed the thought aside and hopped deftly from the brick divider, landing soundlessly on the ground beside Kurosaki.
“And where exactly are we going to be having this fun?”
“Karin’s got a game today. I heard you played with her a bit, thought you might find it interesting to watch. But if you don’t want to do that, there are plenty of places to go around here. After that, we can have some lunch and decide what to do from there,” he clarified.
The white-haired shinigami snorted. In other words, Kurosaki hadn’t planned much of anything. And what little he had planned was questionable at best. If the substitute shinigami cared so little about the time he spent with him that he didn’t even bother to make plans, why go out of his way to make Hitsugaya come anyway? He paused for a moment, looking the substitute shinigami up and down. “She told you you could take me to the game because you couldn’t think of anywhere else to drag me, didn’t she?”
The flustered, gaping stare he received was verification enough, and the young captain turned in the direction of the soccer field on the other side of the park. “Well, how am I supposed to know where you’d wanna go? All you ever do is sit around and play with that phone of yours. I figured it didn’t matter where we went, as long as it got you away from all that work,” he grumbled, valiantly defending his plans as he caught up with his companion.
Hitsugaya wished he could see Kurosaki’s expression, but that would require turning around, and he wasn’t about to do that anytime soon. There was no way in hell he was going to let the taller boy see his own amused smirk. “It’s fine, Kurosaki,” he reassured. “I don’t mind.”
He really didn’t. It was the honest truth. Kurosaki may not care that much about today, but Hitsugaya did. And, really, what did it matter where they were as long as his official distraction was around to keep him company?
But because he didn’t look back, he missed the unconvinced frown spreading across Kurosaki’s lips and the guilty way he looked down at the ground as they started their walk to the field.
~*~
There was something wrong with him.
Well, aside from all the other things that were wrong with him anyway. Couldn’t he just be normal for once in his life? He couldn’t have darker hair, he couldn’t stay out of fights even if he wanted to, he couldn’t be a normal high school student, and now he couldn’t find a nice girl to spend the rest of his life with? Of course, not. Not if the way his eyes gravitated toward Toushirou’s ass was any indication.
Ichigo had said he wanted to get Toushirou outside because he seemed distracted. And it was true, really. But that wasn’t the only reason. What with the war coming and everything, he’d just been struck with this dread that he might not be able to see the squirt again. Something might happen to him or to Toushirou, or the kid might just decide he didn’t want to come back to Karakura again. Certainly he didn’t have any reason to stick around. And just like that, there’d be no more adorable pouts or scowls, no more witty, snarking comebacks, no more flushed “That’s Hitsugaya-taichou to you!”s.
He wasn’t exactly sure when he had begun to look forward to those things. When the little guy had first hopped up onto his window, going on about how dangerous the upcoming war was going to be, he hadn’t felt like this in the least. Toushirou had just been Toushirou. But the longer Toushirou stuck around, complained about the pointless classes and having to wear the school uniform, spent the night on his roof when Rangiku and Orihime had decided to have some sort of girl’s-night-in, grudgingly accepted that for some patrols he really did have to be partnered with the “ignorant” substitute shinigami, the longer he was simply there, the more Ichigo wanted him to stay there. But knowing that that was impossible, he’d wanted to have at least one whole day with him before everything that could go wrong did.
He’d pretty much screwed that up, hadn’t he? Before they even got going, the shinigami genius had busted down his defenses and trampled right on through without a second thought. But that was the point, right? There was nothing to give a thought to. Toushirou was Toushirou, and he was … well, himself. He was the one with the issues; he couldn’t go and shove them on the already overwhelmed captain. Honestly, Toushirou was just a kid, and he already had all that crap to do.
And, holy cow, he was staring at a kid’s ass. He was officially a pedophile. He was one of those creepy guys in coats that hung around school playgrounds.
He was so going to hell.
“What’s all this?”
Ichigo’s downward mental spiral was immediately halted when he heard Toushirou’s miffed question, and he looked up just in time to see all of the seasonal decorations being put up across the store fronts on the other side of the street. Lights and wreaths and pine trees littered the walkway, and the smaller boy was staring at them in disdain.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Christmas,” he deadpanned. It took everything in his power not to gape.
“Of course I have,” came the huffed response. “I just … wasn’t expecting it to already be…”
Ichigo shook his head, holding back a chuckle. “Time got away from you, huh? See? You really did need to get out. I expect to hear a thank you later.”
There was not a second’s hesitation before Toushirou grunted back, “Not likely.” But then he paused again, those teal-green eyes locked onto something above them. Curiosity got the better of him, and Ichigo looked up as well. Well, crap. “Are those part of the decorations too?” he heard the squirt ask, but he didn’t trust himself to reply.
Spread across a line of fishing wire from one side of the street to the other was a row of mistletoe. And when Ichigo caught the last few strands of orange hair shuffle out of sight around the corner, he had to gulp. Damn it all. He’d let his, er, interest in the Tenth Division captain slip a few days ago when Rukia held him in a headlock between her knees. What sort of self-destructive demon could have possibly possessed him to think she’d keep a secret like that? Could she have dragged everyone along? His stomach felt like an acid pit, and all the while Toushirou was standing there waiting for a simple yes or no answer. But as he felt the temperature rising in his face and neck, he opened his mouth and something much longer and stupider came out.
“Er, yeah, it’s mistletoe. You know, like that old tradition, when you’re caught under the mistletoe…” A single, pale brow rose in question, and Ichigo decided if he’d already dug his own grave, he might as well lie in it too. “Well, when … when two people are caught together under the mistletoe … they’re supposed to, well … kiss.”
He’d said the last word so quietly that when Toushirou stared at him with that blank, unreadable expression he thought maybe he hadn’t heard him, but then the smallest of twitches overcame the edge of his lips. “Is that what you brought me here to do?”
And Ichigo’s common sense returned in a rush of panic. “N-No!” he forced out, his arms moving wildly about to illustrate just how wrong that was. Dammit! He was supposed to be giving Toushirou some time to relax, not taking advantage of him! “It’s just a couple thing! And it’s a dumb tradition anyway! C’mon! If we don’t get moving, we’ll miss the start of the game!”
He dragged the kid nearly all the way to the field, not giving him time to say anything else first. As selfish as it was, he still wanted the chance to help Toushirou out in any way he could. He didn’t want him to start stalking off before they even made it to the damn soccer game, though he probably deserved as much. And things really were starting to look up as they took their seats in the small, metal fold-out stands.
The game was a close one from the very beginning. Karin was really giving it her all, and the best part was that Toushirou was starting to get into it, loosening up and actually enjoying himself. Ichigo even got him to yell once or twice when Karin made a goal. So, naturally, it was now that things had to get worse again.
It was halfway through the game, and the players were on a fifteen minute break, meaning that Ichigo and Toushirou could go to that pretzel vender they’d been eyeing and buy a snack to tide them over during the second half. On their way over, Ichigo spotted the accursed holiday decoration hanging over the mobile booth and halted midstride. More mistletoe. Dammit, there was no way he was going to make Toushirou think that was what he wanted out of this! Even if it really was what he wanted.
No! Bad, Ichigo!
“On second thought, I’m really not all that hungry,” he hastily intervened, turning back around toward the field. Toushirou looked from the pretzels to his companion for a moment longer before silently returning to his post by Ichigo’s side just in time for the substitute shinigami to stop dead yet again.
Now this was just going too far. He knew for a fact that there hadn’t been anything there a second ago. But now the decorative archway leading to the stands was crowned off with another sprig of mistletoe. This time there was no mistaking the bobbing heads trying to hide themselves behind the metal stands. Oh, hell no. Were they trying to make his life a living hell? And unlike with the pretzel vender, Hitsugaya Toushirou saw this one as clear as day. It was hard not to; they were right under it again.
Ichigo watched in horror as the whole world seemed to slow down, and Toushirou’s lips parted to say something Ichigo knew he didn’t want to hear. His mind cranked into overdrive, and he interrupted with the first thing that came to his head. “Damn, it’s getting cold out here. Maybe we should head inside somewhere. Karin won’t mind. It’s obvious her team’ll win anyway.”
The kid’s mouth instantly clamped shut to make way for a disbelieving frown. Why, oh why, did he have to keep rambling? He never rambled, and yet here he was, going on about it being too cold. That was the best he could come up with? Toushirou had a friggin’ ice zanpakutou for goodness’ sake! And now he sounded like the worst brother to ever walk the earth. But he couldn’t take it back now, and he’d defend his stupid mistake to the grave if he had to. “I didn’t realize you were so susceptible to the weather,” the boy finally drawled. Was that disappointment in his voice? Ichigo dared not consider it; he’d just mistaken his annoyance was all.
But he could salvage this! He could! He was Kurosaki Ichigo, dammit! He’d already said there were plenty of other places around, and there were. Now he just had to figure out something that Toushirou might like enough to take his mind off of Ichigo’s constant screw ups, and as he scanned the nearby buildings, he came up with the perfect idea.
“Oi, Toushirou. Wanna try something new?” A pale brow rose in question, and Ichigo knew he’d caught him hook, line, and sinker. He grabbed the kid’s wrist and pulled him along just enough to show him the direction they were headed before letting go, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate being dragged around for long. “C’mon. It’ll be fun, I promise. Just trust me.”
And it looked like he did, until they stepped into the booth and he saw the karaoke set.
“Kurosaki…” he growled, but Ichigo just ruffled his hair before plopping down on a small couch and picking up a list of songs.
“Aw, come off it. You’ve gotta have a damn good singing voice, so you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. Me, on the other hand…”
“Just don’t expect me to sing any female artists,” the little captain gave his condition as he reluctantly sat down beside him. It didn’t go unnoticed by the substitute shinigami that Toushirou hadn’t told him off for messing with his hair like a kid, but he decided it would be best not to bring it up. It’d be his little secret. Just like the fact that feeling Toushirou’s thigh so close to his own was working wonders for his libido.
“I think you’d be good at it,” he smirked to a chorus of characteristic huffs before turning his attention back to the song choices. “Well, since it’s your first time, we should probably stay away from fast songs and slow songs. You’d think the slow ones would be easy, but they’re not.”
“I’m sure I could handle it.”
“Aren’t slow songs usually girly ones?” he quirked, a teasing smirk playing at the edge of his lips.
“Just because I don’t want to sing them doesn’t mean I can’t. Besides,” a pause, “didn’t you just say I’d be good at it?”
“Is that a challenge?” Ichigo grinned, looking over to his companion just in time to see yet another sprig of mistletoe lowering itself over Toushirou’s head. Hastily, he ripped it off the string it was attached to, hiding the sudden motion by then splaying himself out on the couch. The little guy looked at him oddly a moment but then turned back to the song list, and Ichigo quickly stuffed the offending plant into his back pocket.
“It can be a challenge for you if you want it to be,” he said with a crooked smirk, “but I doubt it will be much of a challenge for me.”
Thanking every god out there that Toushirou hadn’t seemed to notice, he reveled in the boy’s cockiness and pointed mischievously to a duet. “How ‘bout this one? If you sing the girl’s part, I’ll buy lunch.”
“You were going to buy lunch anyway,” came the derisive reply, followed by what might have been either a chuckle or a click of his tongue, Ichigo wasn’t sure.
But even as he said it, Toushirou’s hand reached for the little microphones, and Ichigo paused to marvel at the miracle before him. Well, until Toushirou actually picked them up, snapped some sort of planted trap with a string attached to the ceiling fan above, and more mistletoe came tumbling down on top of them. Toushirou didn’t flinch; Ichigo nearly had a heart attack.
“Aboutthatlunch! Letshaveitnow!” he slurred as he dove for the Tenth captain and raced out of the room.
His mind could hardly keep up with his feet, and before he knew it, they were back on the street, staring at a row of restaurants. Toushirou pulled away from him with a huff, rolling his shoulder less-than-discreetly. Ichigo felt the inevitable wave of guilt rolling over him. He knew he was making everything worse. If the little captain had been distracted before, he was liable to be downright anxious now. Not to mention aggravated.
It was obvious now what Ichigo was doing, and he had no idea how Toushirou would take it. He didn’t want to know how Toushirou would take it because, really, the only way to take it was badly.
“I thought you were cold,” finally came the strained, thinly veiled irritation in his voice.
“Eating something hot oughtta fix that,” he only just managed to counter before walking away, ordering some lunch from a stand that looked to be serving teriyaki bowls. He wasn’t paying as much attention as he should have been. It took everything in him not to give up and just ask Toushirou to kill him now; the kid certainly sounded like he’d do the deed with pleasure. Instead, he settled for getting away for a moment and recomposing himself.
He was Kurosaki Ichigo, and this situation was still salvageable, dammit! He could do anything if he just put his mind to it! If he kept telling himself that, maybe he’d start to believe it too.
The truth was that he was making a total and complete ass out of himself.
He was going to have to murder his friends for this later. He’d be merciful, do it while they were sleeping. Maybe he’d leave some mistletoe behind for extra emphasis. Toushirou had always seemed to appreciate irony.
But until then, he could still save this. The next time Rukia and Co. got the bright idea to set more traps, he could laugh it off or… Dammit! Why hadn’t he just done that before?! Toushirou was sure to think he was a nutcase. Or, well, more of a nutcase than he already thought he was. And for good reason. Even Ichigo was beginning to think he was a nutcase.
He didn’t realize the food was ready until the man at the stand demanded he pay what was owed. Ichigo doled out the necessary coins and picked up the two bowls, turning around to look for Toushirou in the crowd. It took a moment, but he finally spotted him. He wasted no time in heading over, telling himself over and over that he could just apologize and point out his friends and everything would be alright.
And then he jerked to a stop, one of the bowls crashing to the ground.
Toushirou was seated at one of the many tables, and he was looking up again, his face carefully devoid of any emotion. Surrounding the kid in a large circle was a ring of mistletoe branches. A step closer, and they’d be under the mistletoe together again. The little shinigami lowered his gaze from the hanging decorations to the bowl on the ground.
“You dropped one.”
That simple observation finally sent Ichigo over the brink.
“Damn it, Rukia! How is this even possible?!” Toushirou didn’t seem the least bit perturbed as Kuchiki Rukia jumped up from her hiding place in surprise. “Get the hell out of those stupid bushes, and tell me what the hell you guys are trying to pull!”
The indignant Thirteenth Division shinigami was quickly followed by Inoue Orihime, Arisawa Tatsuki, Sado Yasutora, and Ishida Uryuu. How they had all fit in that little bush, Ichigo had no idea. Then a snort from Toushirou and an unexpected, “You too, Matsumoto,” sent Ichigo’s world right down to rock bottom. Rukia had even told other shinigami…?
“I think it’s fairly obvious,” huffed the raven haired woman as dignified as she could considering the situation. “You two are the only ones who don’t see it.”
Ichigo’s eyes bulged.
No. Way. In. Hell.
“What are you talking about?” he growled, daring her to say it out loud. He thanked his lucky stars she didn’t.
“Are you so full of stubbornness that there’s simply no room for your brain?” the woman shot back
“Why do you guys have to go out of your way to piss me off?”
“You do that well enough on your own.”
“This is not my fault! If you guys would just-!”
“Of course it’s your fault, Kurosaki.”
Both Ichigo and Rukia were shocked into silence at the sound of that voice, staring as Hitsugaya Toushirou stood up from his seat and folded his arms neatly across his chest.
“And I expect you to take responsibility for your actions.”
~*~
Screw this. There was something wrong with the whole damn world.
The longer he let this drag on, the worse things got. But Kurosaki had seemed so determined to pretend he wasn’t running away from a stupid Christmas decoration that Hitsugaya had been inclined to let him delude himself, if only because the war was quickly coming upon them and days like this would soon be nonexistent. He endured, despite increasing irritation. He worked with Matsumoto; he could stand Kurosaki’s frantic naivety. Hadn’t he said that it was endearing anyway? Ha. What had he been thinking? But when every single time that he started to get comfortable, every single time it looked like maybe, just maybe, they would both have some time to enjoy themselves, Kurosaki dropped everything and rushed to get as far away from the mistletoe-inspired awkwardness as possible, it was no wonder why the young captain was feeling disappointed.
He tried to tell himself that it was at least better than slaving away in front of that denreishinki and obsessing over the battles to come, tried to make it clear to Kurosaki that he didn’t care if they were buried in mistletoe, tried and tried and tried to keep his temper in check because this was just the way Kurosaki was. One could even say that this was partially Hitsugaya’s fault, as he could have easily spared some time to help the substitute shinigami improve his ability to sense reiatsu, thus saving him from being surprised by their stalkers’ antics.
But then Kurosaki Ichigo just had to go one step too far. He just had to drop their lunch all over the ground. All because of one, little parasitic plant and the superstitions attached to it. So when the strawberry-headed idiot started yelling at Kuchiki, Hitsugaya Toushirou was more than ready to get up and leave. That was, until he saw Matsumoto’s sloppy attempt at charades.
He lived with Matsumoto and Inoue, had known they were up to something before he’d even left the house, but something about the near-pleading way his lieutenant was currently pointing from him to Kurosaki and then smacking her palms together told him that this definitely wasn’t another one of the woman’s normal pranks. She had always had the uncanny ability to see right through him and had blissfully proven that she still had it a few days ago when she walked up behind him, wrapped herself around his shoulders, and asked matter-of-factly, “Had any wet dreams about Kurosaki yet?” He had promptly choked on his own spit, giving her the answer she’d come for. And taking that kind of knowledge into consideration, Hitsugaya could only come to one conclusion.
Damn. They were trying to set him up with the Strawberry.
They were playing around with a captain of the Gotei 13, one of the strongest shinigami to reside in Seireitei. All because he’d had one (just one, damn it!) stupid wet dream. It was absolutely, positively ridiculous. Nothing about it made an iota of sense. The mere thought of a shinigami captain having any sort of personal relationship with a damn high school kid was preposterous. Especially when Kurosaki likely didn’t want anything of the sort.
Wait. Either. He was supposed to use the word either. “Especially when Kurosaki likely didn’t want anything of the sort either.”
Well, crap.
Did that mean he wanted it?
And suddenly Hitsugaya couldn’t take it anymore.
“What do you mean it’s my fault, Toushirou!?” Kurosaki yelled back, his voice only slightly quieter than when he’d been hollering at Kuchiki, red-orange brows furrowed painfully. The entirety of their audience was now staring as Hitsugaya forced himself to put one foot in front of the other until he was less than a meter away. “I would never…”
Before the redhead could say anymore, Hitsugaya pointed upward. Kurosaki’s gaze followed his finger up and up and up to the mistletoe now hanging directly above them. And by the time the taller boy registered the sight, the young captain had grabbed the strings hanging from his sweatshirt and pulled, tightening Kurosaki’s hood and yanking his head down to his own waiting lips.
Reciprocation was instant. Well, that was until Kurosaki realized what he was doing and jerked his head away. There went the second teriyaki bowl, but at least he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. Their audience was now utterly, completely speechless, and Hitsugaya would no longer have to deal with their ridiculous poking and prodding into his personal affairs. Unfortunately, now that the peanut gallery was quiet, he had to deal with the real consequences of his drastic actions.
The substitute shinigami was bright red, and his jaw had gone completely slack in shock. “Wha?! But-! I thought…”
“You thought what, Kurosaki?” he huffed, regretfully letting go of the sweatshirt strings. He supposed this was when Kurosaki was supposed to say he was straight and Hitsugaya was insane before stomping off to yell at Kuchiki some more. He had certainly avoided the concept of a kiss adamantly enough.
“Well, you know. That you’re, like, twelve, and you’re straight. And I’m just some half-shinigami, half-human, half-whoknowswhat freak of nature that you’d never look twice at.”
Hitsugaya's mind did a complete double take, eyes wide in wonder as they took in the unbelievable sight before them. He was serious. Kurosaki really, truly thought that. Even after…? An almost-smile twitched at the edge of his lips.
“You’re a genuine idiot.” You look at me like a little kid; you talk to me the way you’d address a close friend; and you think of me as some sort of god. “It’s … kind of refreshing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kurosaki somehow managed to sound defensive through his still gaping jaw.
Hitsugaya could only snort. “I’ve been dead for over twenty years. I haven’t made a pass at my lieutenant in the fifteen years I’ve known her. And I’m an emotionally crippled child genius leading a military division,” he grunted. “Is that enough reassurance for-”
Anything else he might have intended to say was muffled by Kurosaki’s mouth on his. Eyes closed; lips parted. For a perfect moment, there was no Aizen, no war, no anything except for Hitsugaya Toushirou and Kurosaki Ichigo. And then a camera flash brought reality careening rudely back.
Hitsugaya blinked stupidly at Arisawa Tatsuki proudly holding up a digital camera. Ishida and Inoue had their cell phones out. And Sado Yasutora, completely straight-faced, was giving an angry Kurosaki a thumbs-up. Matsumoto seemed to be simultaneously crying and swooning as Kuchiki Rukia donned a maniacal grin. “You know,” she cooed, “you only have to do it once.”
“Consider it compensation for all the opportunities we missed this morning,” Hitsugaya countered without missing a beat. Kurosaki scowled in embarrassment.
“But in that case, doesn’t he still owe you a lot more?” Inoue prodded innocently, looking a little too pleased with herself at having done the math.
The Tenth Division captain was in no hurry to argue.
Okay. So there was something wrong with him.
And if that over-excited tongue was any indication, there was something wrong with Kurosaki too.
The phrase “two wrongs don’t make a right” came to mind. But, even as their audience oohed and awed at their rather public display, Hitsugaya decided he wholeheartedly disagreed.
~*~
Merry Kisses.