Christmas Baby

Blue Rose: thanks for reviewing! yupp, there's plenty more on the way!

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Hitsugaya growled in irritation, calming down enough to realize that he could not escape Ichigo’s embrace and even if he did, with his broken ankle, he could not get to Matsumoto. He had no crutches, no way to get around because Unohana did not trust him to rest himself. She knew how dedicated to his work and duties he was and knew the youngest taichou would push himself too hard, so she ordered him on bedrest to ensure that he would actually rest instead of immediately returning to his duties. So the only way poor Hitsugaya had of getting around was for others to carry him.

Hitsugaya huffed and crossed his arms, scowling down at his cast. It was not thick and hard like a typical cast from the human world. Because of his affinity to ice, whenever he activated his reiatsu and summoned that cold, water-based element plaster casts simply fell apart. His cast was soft and spongy, allowing for air circulation and high resistance to icy reiatsu. The cast was not itchy and cumbersome, either, the way plaster ones were. Hitsugaya barely even felt it; he often forgot he even had the cast on. It was covered by a stiff, water-proof teal bandage that matched his eyes exactly. The cast was soft and squishy to the touch, yet held his mending ankle perfectly immobile and protected it from pain; Hitsugaya could bump it and bang it as much as he liked. The cast absorbed the blows, cushioning his broken ankle. It was an invention both Fourth Division and Twelfth Division concocted together, and was covered in the scribbling of many well-wishers.

Ichigo had been the first to sign then had held a groggy, sedated Tenth Division taichou in his lap in the infirmary bed as Ichigo’s ryoka friends, Matsumoto and the rest of Tenth Division, many Fourth Division staff, the Shinigami Women’s Association, Ukitake, Renji, Hinamori, Ikkaku, Yumichika, and Yachiru all signed the little taichou’s cast.

Where Yachiru went, Zaraki was bound to show up sooner or later, especially when he heard a certain orange-haired ryoka was there. The battle-hungry maniac of Eleventh Division stampeded into Hitsugaya’s infirmary room, zanpaktoh drawn, and knocking out part of a wall in the process. The only things that saved Ichigo, who held a sleepy prodigy snuggled in his arms, from getting mauled was Yachiru jumping up on Zaraki’s shoulder, biting his ear viciously enough to draw blood, and screaming, “No hurting Chibi-chan! He gives me Ukitake’s candy!” and the sudden appearance of Unohana.

She never said a word and her serene smile never left her face, but Zaraki, who was charging like a rabid, slobbering wolverine and screaming, “Ichigo!” stopped suddenly as if he had slammed into a brick wall. The members of Eleventh Division scuttled away quietly under her quiet, gentle but somehow completely terrifying gaze. Her gentle demeanor never changed, but there was something unbelievably scary about her. Even Ichigo had cowered, holding Hitsugaya tightly as she entered the room, but all the head healer did was sign her fellow taichou’s cast and check his temperature before allowing him to be released from the infirmary.

Hitsugaya sighed in grumpy resignation, turquoise eyes still glowering down at his cast as he laid his head on Ichigo’s broad shoulder. “Soon as this stupid thing’s off, I’m going to KILL her. She’s going to be doing paperwork until she’s as old as Yamamoto. I’ll deep-freeze her. I’ll…” He grumbled into Ichigo’s warm, cream-colored sweater.

Ichigo kissed the top of Hitsugaya’s head, the fluffy, thick and soft, snowy tuft tickling his face. “For once, I agree with you. We should put Kon in Byakuya’s gigai and let him attack her.” His embarrassment at being watched during such an intimate moment and his annoyance with Matsumoto were overridden by the knowledge that he had a beautiful, underwear-less snow sprite in his lap and it was just the two of them in the house. For that, his hormones decided, he could forgive her. He still wouldn’t get in the way of Hitsugaya’s revenge, though.

“Paperwork.” Hitsugaya mumbled, his furious cowl turning into a wicked little smirk and he had a dangerous, bright blue gleam in his eyes. His anger waned under his boyfriend’s constant affection and secure arms, demanding his attention. He could kill Matsumoto later- he had Ichigo right now.

“Huh?” Ichigo nuzzled the soft, marshmallowy fluff Hitsugaya had for hair. No matter how long he was with the ice-wielding shinigami, he could never get enough of him. He was a constant delight to Ichigo’s heart and senses. He had a fierce, loving heart and deep passion hiding behind his protective, icy exterior. Hitsugaya was a little firecracker, and he lit up Ichigo’s world like fireworks lit up the New Year’s night sky.

“We need to put the mod-soul into a container resembling a pile of paperwork. She’d be scarred for life- her nightmare of attacking paperwork come true.” Hitsugaya clarified, sounding absolutely delighted at the idea. As Ichigo cuddled the small taichou closer, he shuddered- Hitsugaya was almost as scary as Unohana, and he made a mental note to never, ever piss him off.

“We could, but- I’ve missed you, Shiro-chan.” Ichigo’s chestnut eyes shone in delight as he felt the smaller body snuggle close. Hitsugaya fit in his arms like a glove, as if their bodies were made to be together. Ichigo was long and lean, but not spindly like Ichimaru. His muscles were perfectly toned; he was not a bulking body builder, but he was not a scrawny skeleton, either. He was the perfect balance of lean and muscle, while Hitsugaya was petite and lightly lean, like a newborn foal. He had muscles, but he was soft in all the right places and molded easily to Ichigo’s own when they made love. In battle, he was like Soi Fon: remarkably swift and agile with a quick, keen mind. And in the bedroom…holy fuck, was he ever flexible. Ichigo tightened his arms around the dainty body and quickly stifled those thoughts with a chaste kiss to Hitsugaya’s temple.

Hitsugaya sighed again, but softer this time, more a gentle fluttering of breath than a harsh exhale. “Baka.” He said it lightly, as if it were an endearment of sorts, and tilted his head up at the brush of lips against his temple.

Ichigo gazed down into that beloved face and warm blue-green eyes that very rarely held such open gentleness. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Shiro.”

Hitsugaya rolled his big, expressive eyes. “It’s just a sprained ankle. I was hardly on my deathbed.”

Ichigo snorted. “Broken bone, torn muscle; that’s a lot more than a sprain. Still, I missed my injured baby dragon’s birthday. At least I get to spend Christmas with you, just the two of us.” He suddenly paused as a thought struck him. “You know, Shiro-chan, your birthday is only five days from Christmas.”

“So?”

“That makes you a Christmas baby.”

Teal eyes instantly narrowed.

Tbc…

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Uh-oh! Ichigo’s in trouble!! Mwahaha!!! And please review!