peppermint

–

tourin.

––

He just watches as Kurosaki Karin moves her tongue in deliberate slowness. Her head occasionally tilts down, up, left and right as she takes pleasure in everything. Even while she's busy, her visage manages to crack a grin; wit emblazons and lights her dark eyes up. Taunting him.

"Mmhm…"

He lets out a barely audible grunt, diverting his stare to the TV; the screen blinks back at him, displaying a group of comedians that fail to fully grasp his attention.

"Hey, Toushirou."

"What?" He snaps, stare still fixated on the screen, but out of the corner of his eye he sees Karin chuckling to herself, wiping at her mouth.

"You're not going to try?"

He manages to not roll his eyes. "No."

"Aww, but why? You're going to regret it."

He feels her moving closer to him, and even though his stare is glued on whatever show the monitor is flaunting, he can make out the mischievous smirk in her movement. "No is no, Karin." He grumbles.

Karin rarely pouts—never, actually; it's just something she lists in her 'desperate measures' for desperate moments (or when the subject happens to be a certain white haired prodigy).

And now, she pouts. "C'mon Toushirou," she snuggles closer to him. "You have to try it. It's helluva awesome."

He nearly flinches at her touch.

Hitsugaya Toushirou definitely does not like it when Karin starts… seducing him.

"It's something to die for."

An ice cream.

He mumbles under his breath, flipping through the channels distractedly, watching colors fading in and out on the screen. "If I remember correctly, you're the one who said that this illness needed to be treated respectively, and that I must not eat anything unhealthy."

Karin blinks at him. "Wow, you actually listened to my nonexistent banter!"

Aggravated, he finally slants his eyes towards her, only to be greeted with a nefarious simper. "Whatever. I don't want to prolong my sickness, so I—"

"It's called flu, Toushirou. Just a lot of wheezing and weird body temperature. And it's not life-threatening, really."

He glares daggers at her. How could humans have so many different names for illness? It doesn't make sense, and it's tedious to remember those funny names, let alone what predicaments they do.

"I already made it clear, Karin. I don't want to prolong this, and more importantly," he knits his eyebrows with concern. "I don't want to end up like Ukitake… living secluded like that is surely hard and inconvenient."

Karin quirks a brow. "Ukitake-san? What does he have to do with… Ah. No. Your illness is not the same with his, Toushirou." She bites her bottom lips, now amused. "His is called Tuberculosis."

Tube—what?

Lacking comprehension on the matter at hand, Toushirou only deepens his scowl. Deciding to drop the matter, he turns his gaze towards the TV again, hoping Karin to have forgotten the whole deal about ice cream.

Or maybe not.

"Sooo yeah, different kinds of illness, really. And yours is nothing. I mean. Flu. You can recover from it by having enough rest and stuff. See? Piece of cake! So, now you're not going to refuse to eat this."

Karin never fails to fully grab his attention; he hates the TV for being so incompetent. "No. That is unhealthy food."

Horror creeps to her face. "Unhealthy! Why, this is the most awesome food ever invented on the earth!"

"Not Soul Society, I hope."

For a moment, Toushirou feels smug about his riposte; Karin's face falls. But it only lasts for a while when the girl, out of the blue, huddles closer, leans in, wearing a serious countenance. His heart skips a beat.

"Well, then, I assume you don't know the best treatment for flu."

He holds his breath, trying to ignore their imaginary distance. "I can just sleep, right? Yeah, that'll do. Naps will be—"

Karin holds up the cup in her hand, scooping a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, nodding to herself. "This is the best treatment."

He expels a sigh. "I've had enough of your rambling about ice cream, Karin. Sorry to disappoint you, but that isn't going to work on me."

"Oh, really? How astute."

"You're pretty rock-headed, you know that?"

She snorts. "Look who's talking. You're no fun, Toushirou."

"Why, thank you."

Karin sinks back into the couch, and momentary relief washes over him. In his peripheral vision, Karin is eating the ice cream absentmindedly, thoughts seemly to be elsewhere. He begins to relax. Now, finally, a calm afternoon!

Or not.

"Toushirou, look this way."

What is she up to now?

"I'm watching TV." He hopes the response is concise enough.

"Look this way."

Losing patience yet again, he twists his head, opening his mouth to voice out his annoyance; "Karin, you're awfully—"

He can't finish the sentence. His mouth is shut.

…by her mouth.

She has drawn her hands up to his face, pulling him closer. As her lips press against his, he feels his cheeks burn. Her long, dark locks tickle his face, and his heart thumps against his chest. He tries to breathe, but is suffocated by the heat. Mingled emotions jump and skid like a rollercoaster, butterflies creeping in his stomach.

His head seems to have grown a heart too—it drums stridently, diminishing rational thoughts. Logic lost, Toushirou leans in, now cupping her face with his hands, kissing her back.

She tastes like peppermint.

"What was that?" He breaks the kiss abruptly, breaths heavy.

"Mint chocochip."

"Figured." He leans in again.

A moment later, Inoue Orihime stumbles into the living room and interrupts their engrossed kissing with a squeak; their ephemeral eternity broken.

Both Toushirou and Karin turn at the intrusive voice.

"Uh. Ah. Uhm. Er. I-I-I'm sorry, I didn't know—I thought there was someone. There were shoes outside and... I-I-I mean, I didn't mean to interrupt—b-but you see, I promised Yuzu-chan to c-c-come and help her pick dresses for uh, p-p-prom and I thought—"

Karin sighs. "Ichi-nii is out with Rukia. Yuzu and Otou-san are buying new ingredients for cooking, but they'll be back soon, I think. We are stuck with guarding the house, you see."

Orihime's face is aflame.

"Oh. I-I see. Um. I-I'm sorry, I—"

The raven haired girl laughs, waving her hand. "It's okay, Orihime-san. We are just eating ice cream," she then picks up the empty cup, looking at the 10th division captain, smirking. "Right, Toushirou?"

His nod is almost imperceptible.

And ignoring Orihime who stands there, dumbstruck with a face as red as a tomato, Karin rises and pivots on her heels, heading towards the refrigerator.

"Care for another cup?"

––

–

disclaimer: Bleach is not mine.
a/n: And yet another idea born originally years ago, now rewritten and remodeled.
I've been breeding more and more fluffy plot bunnies lately;
and since I can't include them in Momentum, I'm going to write them as one-shots.
*edit: about the cold thing; Ukitake is suffering from Tuberculosis, and yet those Shinigami seem clueless about it (they actually think it's a life-threatening, incurable disease) — so I think catching a cold is not really implausible for a Death God, after all. xD

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed this.