Christmas Baby

A week. An entire fucking week since Ichigo last saw his love, and that had been as he was rushed to the Fourth Division’s infirmary after a fight with Arrancars. Hitsugaya’s injury was nothing serious or fatal- just a broken, twisted ankle- but it required medical attention nonetheless. Orihime’s healing skills were not refined enough yet to deal with the multiple-layered injury of broken bones and torn muscles, and Ichigo had carried Hitsugaya back to the living world that very evening with a cast on his slim ankle.

A sudden, unexpected snow storm had blown through that very night, just after Ichigo returned to his own home, and in the morning, Karakura was buried in three feet of snow, leaving residents trapped in their own homes for several days. Ichigo had been stuck with his sisters and their maniac of a father until the snow could be cleared from the sidewalks and streets. The only way their house and the oldest Kurosaki sibling had survived was by locking their lunatic father in his bedroom and occasionally a closet.
Ichigo had no clue how Hitsugaya had survived with both Matsumoto and Orihime to constantly cuddle and fuss over him, but right now the little taichou looked like he was ready to snap and go on a berserk, Zaraki-like homicidal rampage at any moment.

Ichigo missed Hitsugaya terribly and had wanted to take care of him. It had been nearly an entire week, but felt like several agonizingly long months to the strawberry. To rub salt into the wound, the day after the snowstorm had been the tenth division taichou’s birthday, and Ichigo had not been there to shower him with kisses and smother him in love.

Though, judging from the icy glare on that pretty face, Matsumoto had done more than enough smothering. Time for Ichigo to mark his territory and remind the fukutaichou who the baby dragon belonged to. He took long, swift strides to the bed, sat down, and scooped a squawking, surprised Hitsugaya into his lap in one move, mindful of the cast on his ankle.

“Kurosaki!” Hitsugaya yelped as he squirmed, glaring and settling himself comfortably in Ichigo’s arms. He was used to his thick-headed, irrational boyfriend randomly grabbing him for snuggles, but for five days he’d been relentlessly glomped and babied by Matsumoto and Orihime, who happily followed the stupid alcoholic’s lead. He was at his wits’ end and ready to pound into oblivion the next idiot who dared touch him.

Of course, that idiot would just *have* to be his boyfriend. Ichigo had the unfortunate habit of butting his big, fat head in at the worst possible time. Like right now, when Hitsugaya wanted to kill his fukutaichou. He didn’t consider it murder; it was an act of holiday charity, to spare this world and the next from her stupidity. And she was worse than Ichigo on his densest, dumbest day, Hitsugaya decided waspishly.

His internal rant on the insufferable idiocy of his vice-captain was cut off by strong, warm warms cradling his slight body against a warm chest, and the spicy, autumn scent of Ichigo filled his nostrils. He’d missed the comforting contact of the substitute soul reaper more than he cared to admit, and, deep down, Hitsugaya really didn’t mind their size difference; not when Ichigo held him like this, cocooning him with his bigger body.

Hitsugaya sat sideways in Ichigo’s lap, one of Ichigo’s arms snaked around his lower body, the other around his shoulders, large hand running through his soft, thick and fluffy hair. Each stroke brushed away Hitsugaya’s frustration and anger bit by bit until he relaxed fully in Ichigo’s embrace.

Ichigo pouted down at him. “I’m gone for five days, and you’re back to calling me Kurosaki? Is this cuz I missed your birthday?”

Hitsugaya rolled his large, expressive green-blue eyes and snorted, though it lacked his usual bite. “Tch. Baka. What were you going to do? Tunnel your way through the snow?”

Instead of retorting, Ichigo’s cheeks turned pink and he grinned sheepishly. “Well-er- actually, the thought crossed my mind.” His chocolate gaze never left Hitsugaya’s face, drinking in the snow white skin, large, turquoise gems of eyes, and scowling pink lips just as Hitsugaya’s gaze stayed locked on Ichigo’s face, the rest of the world fading away. Both had missed each other terribly. Usually, they could cope just fine with a long distance relationship, but it was the holiday season, when the desire to be with loved ones was strongest, and the last time they’d seen each other, Ichigo had escorted him home from the infirmary.

Hitsugaya’s pert little nose scrunched up as he scowled up at his lover. “You’re almost as stupid as Matsumoto-!”

Ichigo’s lips claimed his soft, pink ones roughly, possessively, tongue boldly thrusting into the warm cavern of his mouth and sucking the air from his lungs. Hitsugaya melted in shock under the unexpected kiss, Ichigo’s large hand now cradling the back of his head and pulling him to him. Hitsugaya arched his supple back, surrendering willingly to Ichigo’s demanding hunger and meeting his fervent tongue with his own.

Matsumoto’s protest at the insult to her died in her throat as Ichigo claimed Hitsugaya as his. She stared at the hot makeout scene with hungry blue eyes, her mouth suddenly dry and her inner pervert dancing for joy. Unknown to all, the big-busted fukutaichou was a die-hard yaoi fan, and right now, she was in every yaoi fangirls’ fantasy. She could feel a massive nosebleed starting. Now all she needed was for Ichigo to discover his little snow prince didn’t have any underwear on…

Tbc…