Rest {Toshiro, Rangiku}
Title: Rest
Characters: Hitsugaya Toshiro, Matsumoto Rangiku
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 707
Summary: When Toshiro returns to his office, he hadn't expected to find completed and signed paperwork alongside his unconscious lieutenant.
A/N: Written for Table 44 of 5_prompts (prompt 4: and the wind blew) and prompt #2: love of 10_hurt_comfort.
Hitsugaya Toshiro was a young man brimming with talent, easily the youngest captain amongst his much older peers. With striking blue eyes that seemed to pierce into one's soul, sporting a constant scowl which earned him a rather unpleasant nickname from the Eleventh's pink bob, it wasn't difficult to be reduced to a sputtering mess whenever one came face to face with him. Even his spiritual pressure was enough to cause an officer to sweat a river.
This was Captain Hitsugaya to the rest of the Seireitei, the level-headed, wise little leader of Squad Ten. And yet, somehow or rather, he still managed to lose his temper over something so trivial as his procrastinating lieutenant.
It was a known fact that the Eleventh Division's brute of a captain didn't care for paperwork, deeming it as "useless piles of bullshit", but Toshiro wasn't one for such carelessness. He was responsible, punctual, diligent, everything one would expect from a top student.
Matsumoto… Well, she always managed to turn Toshiro into a volcano brimming with lava with just the slightest smirk, to say the least. Her disregard and general lack of discipline were what drove Toshiro to the edge, and each time he wished he could just grab his desk and fling it at her. But of course, that wouldn't do for an audience with Yamamoto, and he didn't want to be branded as being influenced by the Eleventh Division which, much to his annoyance, was just situated right beside his own barracks.
Toshiro was a tolerant youth, always with his anger intact, so when he stepped into his office and found the opposite of what he had been hoping for - a tidy heap of paperwork sieved through and signed - it was only by sheer force of will that he kept his top from blowing.
There, stretched out on the sofa clad in full shinigami regalia, was none other than his lieutenant. She clutched a bottle to her chest, and Toshiro was right in figuring it to be empty. The room even smelled of alcohol, so it was no doubt that she had drunk herself to oblivion while he was away.
Toshiro felt like strangling the living daylights out of her right then and there.
Gripping his fists, he inhaled deeply, and with each breath he exhaled it seemed like his irritation was only building up rather than decreasing.
The only light that illuminated his office came from a candle on the coffee table, a short stump sure to be nothing more than a mass of wax in less than an hour.
Toshiro approached his desk, walking right past Matsumoto without even a second glance back at her, and fingered through the messy documents. With each paper he turned and read, his eyes grew wider, and when he had compiled them all in a pile, he was staring at her like she had six heads.
The woman had actually done her work after all.
Toshiro leaned against the edge of the desk, ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh, and folded his arms. A moment passed wherein he wondered just how she could have committed to her work, finishing it in less time than he had expected.
Eventually, he caught himself gazing at her face, noting a few strands of hair that stuck to her full lips. Out of his own accord, he reached out a hand and brushed them away, and then catching himself a moment too late, hastily pulling away.
Toshiro shook his head and, with a scowl back in place, carefully took the sake bottle from Matsumoto's clutches - he wouldn't want broken glass all over his office floor anytime soon. He placed it on the table and went behind his desk, returning with a light blue blanket that he kept in a drawer for when he stayed up late. He draped it over her, gently so that she wouldn't wake up, and made sure that it didn't slip off.
The young captain lingered a moment longer, thinking of nothing in particular, before leaning down and blowing out the candle. Darkness fell upon the office, and Toshiro quietly slipped out with a content smile on his face.
Get some rest, Matsumoto… For once, you deserve it.
Characters: Hitsugaya Toshiro, Matsumoto Rangiku
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 707
Summary: When Toshiro returns to his office, he hadn't expected to find completed and signed paperwork alongside his unconscious lieutenant.
A/N: Written for Table 44 of 5_prompts (prompt 4: and the wind blew) and prompt #2: love of 10_hurt_comfort.
Hitsugaya Toshiro was a young man brimming with talent, easily the youngest captain amongst his much older peers. With striking blue eyes that seemed to pierce into one's soul, sporting a constant scowl which earned him a rather unpleasant nickname from the Eleventh's pink bob, it wasn't difficult to be reduced to a sputtering mess whenever one came face to face with him. Even his spiritual pressure was enough to cause an officer to sweat a river.
This was Captain Hitsugaya to the rest of the Seireitei, the level-headed, wise little leader of Squad Ten. And yet, somehow or rather, he still managed to lose his temper over something so trivial as his procrastinating lieutenant.
It was a known fact that the Eleventh Division's brute of a captain didn't care for paperwork, deeming it as "useless piles of bullshit", but Toshiro wasn't one for such carelessness. He was responsible, punctual, diligent, everything one would expect from a top student.
Matsumoto… Well, she always managed to turn Toshiro into a volcano brimming with lava with just the slightest smirk, to say the least. Her disregard and general lack of discipline were what drove Toshiro to the edge, and each time he wished he could just grab his desk and fling it at her. But of course, that wouldn't do for an audience with Yamamoto, and he didn't want to be branded as being influenced by the Eleventh Division which, much to his annoyance, was just situated right beside his own barracks.
Toshiro was a tolerant youth, always with his anger intact, so when he stepped into his office and found the opposite of what he had been hoping for - a tidy heap of paperwork sieved through and signed - it was only by sheer force of will that he kept his top from blowing.
There, stretched out on the sofa clad in full shinigami regalia, was none other than his lieutenant. She clutched a bottle to her chest, and Toshiro was right in figuring it to be empty. The room even smelled of alcohol, so it was no doubt that she had drunk herself to oblivion while he was away.
Toshiro felt like strangling the living daylights out of her right then and there.
Gripping his fists, he inhaled deeply, and with each breath he exhaled it seemed like his irritation was only building up rather than decreasing.
The only light that illuminated his office came from a candle on the coffee table, a short stump sure to be nothing more than a mass of wax in less than an hour.
Toshiro approached his desk, walking right past Matsumoto without even a second glance back at her, and fingered through the messy documents. With each paper he turned and read, his eyes grew wider, and when he had compiled them all in a pile, he was staring at her like she had six heads.
The woman had actually done her work after all.
Toshiro leaned against the edge of the desk, ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh, and folded his arms. A moment passed wherein he wondered just how she could have committed to her work, finishing it in less time than he had expected.
Eventually, he caught himself gazing at her face, noting a few strands of hair that stuck to her full lips. Out of his own accord, he reached out a hand and brushed them away, and then catching himself a moment too late, hastily pulling away.
Toshiro shook his head and, with a scowl back in place, carefully took the sake bottle from Matsumoto's clutches - he wouldn't want broken glass all over his office floor anytime soon. He placed it on the table and went behind his desk, returning with a light blue blanket that he kept in a drawer for when he stayed up late. He draped it over her, gently so that she wouldn't wake up, and made sure that it didn't slip off.
The young captain lingered a moment longer, thinking of nothing in particular, before leaning down and blowing out the candle. Darkness fell upon the office, and Toshiro quietly slipped out with a content smile on his face.
Get some rest, Matsumoto… For once, you deserve it.