Prompt #008 Sugar
Title: Killer Grams
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #008 Sugar
Pairing: Ichigo/Toshiro
Warnings: Potentially distressing material about a character being underweight. Light language.
Summary: Ichigo couldn't believe how he'd missed the fact that Toshiro was a little bit more than just small.
Notes: Inspired by a conversation with a friend that led to realising just how little Toshiro weighs. (Figures are from Bleach wiki).
Ichigo had always known he was a little bit of a mother hen. It came with having no mother, two younger sisters, and a crazy father, he argued, and Fate thrusting him into a world of war, betrayal, and disaster before he'd even graduated from high school. It came with having a huge, compassionate heart and the will to protect his friends and family. It came with being a fukutaicho before hitting thirty; a taicho before forty. It came with being in a relationship with 'don't-patronise-me-I-can-do-it-myself' Toshiro Hitsugaya, and that surprised him.
Toshiro was capable of looking after himself. Ichigo sometimes entertained the thought that Toshiro was more capable than most of the taicho, and then he'd find his partner sleeping at his desk with a cold cup of tea and he'd have to re-think that statement. Such doubts were commonplace when Toshiro spent ninety-nine percent of his day cooped up in his office, but Ichigo, being the bubbly, straight-forward guy that he was, had expected to have to mull over these thoughts when he'd expressed an internet in the other man.
He liked that he was allowed take care of Toshiro. He was subtle about it, of course, as he didn't want to insult the taicho's pride (which was stupid, really - there was nothing wrong with letting someone show that they care. But he didn't say anything. He didn't think Toshiro was comfortable enough around him to hear such thoughts). Making tea, keeping his distance in the office, and generally being around for any tiny hints that Toshiro might desire something were just a few things Ichigo did on a daily basis. The few stolen kisses he received in return let him know the kindness was appreciated, even if words of gratitude weren't spoken between them.
For a long time Ichigo didn't think his routine would ever be more complicated than that. And for the most part, it never was. As their time together grew in both months and hours of the day, Toshiro (especially) started to loosen up: he let himself smile and laugh when Ichigo was around, he talked about his division, personal ideas, and things he wanted to do in the future. They kissed more often and, much to Ichigo's delight, cuddled on the office sofa a lot, and looking back on such things, Ichigo couldn't believe how he'd missed the fact that Toshiro was a little bit more than just small.
It wasn't until they'd been on the receiving end of a powerful and berserk kido spell that Ichigo, having flattened Toshiro against the seats in the outside Sixth Division training ground, realised that his partner's hips jutted out from underneath his thick hakama. The observation had concerned him more than the puff of smoke rising from his tinged, amber hair, but he hadn't been able to voice his worry until they'd repeated assured the Sixth Division officers that they were both fine and a trip to the Fourth really wasn't necessary.
Except they're weren't both fine, and maybe the Fourth Division was necessary.
"Toshiro?" he said once they were alone, smiling ever so slightly at how Toshiro cringed at the use of his forename but didn't correct him. "Could I - er - could I carry you back to the Tenth?"
He needed to know how heavy Toshiro was. He had a feeling a set of electronic scales weren't easy to find in Soul Society.
"I'm not injured," the taicho snapped with a gruff sigh. Ichigo must have made a distressed noise for Toshiro stopped walking and turned towards him, crossing his arms over his chest. He scanned Ichigo up and down, eyebrows pinching together when the ginger shifted his weight nervously, and simply asked, "What?"
"Nothing," Ichigo said, the lie clear through his gritted teeth. "I just..."
He reached out helplessly, enclosing a hand around Toshiro's bony, fragile wrist. He paled, feeling sick, and unconsciously start to rub the pulse beating under the other's ghostly skin.
"...Kurosaki?"
Ichigo licked his lips, panting out dry air. "How much do you weigh, Toshiro?" he gasped. "How much - ?" He flickered his gaze upwards just in time to see Toshiro advert his eyes and pull his bottom lip into his mouth. Heart sinking, Ichigo settled his hand on Toshiro's waist instead, squeezing enough to get his point across.
The taicho startled, glancing around for any on-lookers, and hissed out an automatic defiance at the public intimacy. "Kurosaki we're - "
" - Going to the Fourth."
"I don't - "
"If you weigh less than forty-one kilograms I'm going to have a fit, I hope you know that."
Toshiro groaned and swatted Ichigo away. "I'm short, we both know that. There's no reason to be concerned - I eat my meals."
Ichigo looked extremely unconvinced, but his gut loosened slightly at the assurance that Toshiro wasn't deliberately not putting on weight. They were still going to see Unohana-taicho though, and the taicho sighed, as if sensing Ichigo's determination. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"No," said Ichigo bluntly, scowling. "Please. This can't be healthy. I could probably feel your ribs if I tried. We're going to the Fourth to get you measured - "
"About twenty-eight kilograms," Toshiro cut in, sighing in defeat. "That's how much I weigh."
"Jesus Christ."
"It's not that bad."
"I weigh more than double that!"
Toshiro looked uncomfortable. Ichigo let out a breath and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. There was no squawk of outrage at the action, and this omission pulled painfully at his heart-strings. Sighing heavily into Toshiro's hair, Ichigo closed his eyes and let his anger stew for a few terrible moments, his partner abnormally silent under his hold.
"I won't drag you to Unohana-taicho," he muttered eventually, feeling calmer. He knew Toshiro hated the Fourth Division, and while Ichigo really did want him checked over by a professional, getting the taicho worked up wouldn't do his health any good. "But you have to let my dad look you over next time we see him."
A slow nod in reply. "I'm sorry."
Ichigo shook his head and coaxed them into a gentle walk. Nothing more was said as they returned to the Tenth Division, and while they both knew that this was a conversation that would be brought up again, they were content with letting it lie unspoken between them for the time being.
End Notes: Toshiro weighs 28kg = 4 stone and 4 lbs. Ichigo weighs 66kg = 10 stone and 4 lbs.
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #008 Sugar
Pairing: Ichigo/Toshiro
Warnings: Potentially distressing material about a character being underweight. Light language.
Summary: Ichigo couldn't believe how he'd missed the fact that Toshiro was a little bit more than just small.
Notes: Inspired by a conversation with a friend that led to realising just how little Toshiro weighs. (Figures are from Bleach wiki).
Ichigo had always known he was a little bit of a mother hen. It came with having no mother, two younger sisters, and a crazy father, he argued, and Fate thrusting him into a world of war, betrayal, and disaster before he'd even graduated from high school. It came with having a huge, compassionate heart and the will to protect his friends and family. It came with being a fukutaicho before hitting thirty; a taicho before forty. It came with being in a relationship with 'don't-patronise-me-I-can-do-it-myself' Toshiro Hitsugaya, and that surprised him.
Toshiro was capable of looking after himself. Ichigo sometimes entertained the thought that Toshiro was more capable than most of the taicho, and then he'd find his partner sleeping at his desk with a cold cup of tea and he'd have to re-think that statement. Such doubts were commonplace when Toshiro spent ninety-nine percent of his day cooped up in his office, but Ichigo, being the bubbly, straight-forward guy that he was, had expected to have to mull over these thoughts when he'd expressed an internet in the other man.
He liked that he was allowed take care of Toshiro. He was subtle about it, of course, as he didn't want to insult the taicho's pride (which was stupid, really - there was nothing wrong with letting someone show that they care. But he didn't say anything. He didn't think Toshiro was comfortable enough around him to hear such thoughts). Making tea, keeping his distance in the office, and generally being around for any tiny hints that Toshiro might desire something were just a few things Ichigo did on a daily basis. The few stolen kisses he received in return let him know the kindness was appreciated, even if words of gratitude weren't spoken between them.
For a long time Ichigo didn't think his routine would ever be more complicated than that. And for the most part, it never was. As their time together grew in both months and hours of the day, Toshiro (especially) started to loosen up: he let himself smile and laugh when Ichigo was around, he talked about his division, personal ideas, and things he wanted to do in the future. They kissed more often and, much to Ichigo's delight, cuddled on the office sofa a lot, and looking back on such things, Ichigo couldn't believe how he'd missed the fact that Toshiro was a little bit more than just small.
It wasn't until they'd been on the receiving end of a powerful and berserk kido spell that Ichigo, having flattened Toshiro against the seats in the outside Sixth Division training ground, realised that his partner's hips jutted out from underneath his thick hakama. The observation had concerned him more than the puff of smoke rising from his tinged, amber hair, but he hadn't been able to voice his worry until they'd repeated assured the Sixth Division officers that they were both fine and a trip to the Fourth really wasn't necessary.
Except they're weren't both fine, and maybe the Fourth Division was necessary.
"Toshiro?" he said once they were alone, smiling ever so slightly at how Toshiro cringed at the use of his forename but didn't correct him. "Could I - er - could I carry you back to the Tenth?"
He needed to know how heavy Toshiro was. He had a feeling a set of electronic scales weren't easy to find in Soul Society.
"I'm not injured," the taicho snapped with a gruff sigh. Ichigo must have made a distressed noise for Toshiro stopped walking and turned towards him, crossing his arms over his chest. He scanned Ichigo up and down, eyebrows pinching together when the ginger shifted his weight nervously, and simply asked, "What?"
"Nothing," Ichigo said, the lie clear through his gritted teeth. "I just..."
He reached out helplessly, enclosing a hand around Toshiro's bony, fragile wrist. He paled, feeling sick, and unconsciously start to rub the pulse beating under the other's ghostly skin.
"...Kurosaki?"
Ichigo licked his lips, panting out dry air. "How much do you weigh, Toshiro?" he gasped. "How much - ?" He flickered his gaze upwards just in time to see Toshiro advert his eyes and pull his bottom lip into his mouth. Heart sinking, Ichigo settled his hand on Toshiro's waist instead, squeezing enough to get his point across.
The taicho startled, glancing around for any on-lookers, and hissed out an automatic defiance at the public intimacy. "Kurosaki we're - "
" - Going to the Fourth."
"I don't - "
"If you weigh less than forty-one kilograms I'm going to have a fit, I hope you know that."
Toshiro groaned and swatted Ichigo away. "I'm short, we both know that. There's no reason to be concerned - I eat my meals."
Ichigo looked extremely unconvinced, but his gut loosened slightly at the assurance that Toshiro wasn't deliberately not putting on weight. They were still going to see Unohana-taicho though, and the taicho sighed, as if sensing Ichigo's determination. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"No," said Ichigo bluntly, scowling. "Please. This can't be healthy. I could probably feel your ribs if I tried. We're going to the Fourth to get you measured - "
"About twenty-eight kilograms," Toshiro cut in, sighing in defeat. "That's how much I weigh."
"Jesus Christ."
"It's not that bad."
"I weigh more than double that!"
Toshiro looked uncomfortable. Ichigo let out a breath and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. There was no squawk of outrage at the action, and this omission pulled painfully at his heart-strings. Sighing heavily into Toshiro's hair, Ichigo closed his eyes and let his anger stew for a few terrible moments, his partner abnormally silent under his hold.
"I won't drag you to Unohana-taicho," he muttered eventually, feeling calmer. He knew Toshiro hated the Fourth Division, and while Ichigo really did want him checked over by a professional, getting the taicho worked up wouldn't do his health any good. "But you have to let my dad look you over next time we see him."
A slow nod in reply. "I'm sorry."
Ichigo shook his head and coaxed them into a gentle walk. Nothing more was said as they returned to the Tenth Division, and while they both knew that this was a conversation that would be brought up again, they were content with letting it lie unspoken between them for the time being.
End Notes: Toshiro weighs 28kg = 4 stone and 4 lbs. Ichigo weighs 66kg = 10 stone and 4 lbs.