Burning Heat

Kugo hated the snow.

He stared at the steam drifting up from his freshly cooked ramen—vegetables, his least favorite kind—and inhaled, soaking up the sweet smell of the first promising lunch he would have in almost four days. He skillfully wielded his chop sticks, swirling his noodles around in the carefully crafted bowl. The other members of Xcution had left for the day to go shopping… somewhere, not that he could remember where, but they wouldn't be back for some time. While they were gone it had started to snow, so they would most likely stall their trip home to play around in it.

Glancing out the window, Kugo sighed to himself. The bereaved clouds hung in the sky like a burden, unleashing a blizzard upon the town so fierce the bitter frost crept into even the warmest of homes. Kugo was always cold, which was usually why he wore such a heavy jacket over a long-sleeved shirt. Now he had a blanket draped over his shoulders, insulating but still unable to chase away the chills.

Plus, shopping just wasn't his thing. He was glad he had declined their offer to tag-along. "Hey, Ginjou, aren't you going to eat?" Oh, yeah, so had Ichigo. Now they were stuck together, peevishly waiting for the storm to drag out.

Kugo cast his gaze at the Kurosaki kid sitting next to him on the couch, staring into a serving of his own ramen that Kugo had made, "I… uh, yeah… I was just thinking." He returned to prodding his noodles, picking out the vegetables that made him cringe disdainfully. "I'm not too fond of this weather."

"I don't mind it," Ichigo avowed, yelping when he burned his tongue against the scalding soup, "Ow, hot! So why don't you like the snow?"

"I just never did," Kugo shrugged impassively, setting his bowl down on the table top, "It's just one of those things I never learned to appreciate."

Ichigo's lips pressed into a thin line, pondering his word choice for a moment. He set down his meal and stood, trekking over to the door, then threw on his coat tossed carelessly on the hanger. Finally, his amber-glazed eyes locked with Kugo's own calculated glare, "Come on."

"I know what you're up to, Kurosaki! There is nothing you can do that will get me to go outside in a freaking hail storm!" He noticed Ichigo's expression was blank and unreadable, emotionless in fact. Kugo groaned, "Fine!" and stormed over, forcing on his coat, gloves, and striped scarf that he literally covered half his face with.

Ichigo rolled his eyes skyward, "We're going outside to stand in the snow not rob a bank." He reached out and adjusted the accessory so it was below Kugo's chin, revealing a scowl, "There, now the feds won't be scared of us." He led the steaming man outside, where the storm had thankfully subsided—flurries drifted around them in the gentle breeze in the form of white walls still too thick to see through but much lighter than before. "What do you know, it's settling for now."

Kugo flinched against the frost as it bit his exposed skin. He mumbled a complaint and jammed his hands in his pockets, already loosing feeling in his finger tips. "I don't get why we're standing out here. This is a waste of my-"

"Help me make a snowman."

"What?"

"Help me make a snowman," Ichigo reiterated, just as firmly as before. Kugo gave him a look like he had three heads. "There's enough snow on the ground. Come on, I'll start." He bent down and scooped up a handful of that much hated white substance Kugo could barely stand to think of. He shifted it into a ball, almost perfectly spherical. "Don't just stand there looking like a dumbass, help me out a little."

Kugo blinked, frowning deeply. "Don't know how to."

"How to help?"

"How to make a snowman. I've never tried, never learned the process. I grew up practically avoiding the winter season like a bad cold." He watched Ichigo bend down again and roll the ball in different directions until it grew big enough to be pushed around like a rock in the middle of the road.

"Just get some snow, make a ball, and start following my lead."

Kugo furrowed his eyebrow. Reluctantly he started picking at the dreadful snow beneath him, clawing until he could actually feel the dirt hidden two full feet underneath. He burned through several trials-and-errors until he gave up on making the sphere—it only came out deformed. "It looks like a box. Is that good enough?"

Ichigo snorted, "Ginjou, it's not that hard to make it round." He had already finished making two life-sized boulders out of his project, staking the smaller one on top of the larger one, which had been flattened on the bottom to stay upright.

Kugo approached to admonish Ichigo's work. "I still don't get it."

In response Ichigo slapped his hand over his face, excess snow exploding everywhere. Kugo realized his hair felt damp and seemed like he had bad case of dandruff. "Here, look," Ichigo picked up some frozen water particles and slapped them in Kugo's hands, guiding them like a professional, "This is how I taught my sisters. Move your palms like this… yes, and make sure your hold a grip here… There."

Kugo had become lost, staring into Ichigo's determined amber voids until a blast of chilled air broke him from his trance. When he glanced down he was practically cradling the first snowball he had ever made in his life, a smirk pulling the strings on his lips. "Oh, I see."

Ichigo hadn't noticed the man's unusual behavior, obliviously turning back to his half-way finished snowman. "Roll it up like I did and we'll make it a head for this guy. Then we move to the fun part."

"Dressing it up, right?" The simply mention of it sounded juvenile, leaving a sour taste on Kugo's tongue.

"Exactly—see, you're not completely hopeless."

Kugo ignored him and debated with himself on how large to make this head, finding the whole situation to be grating on his nerves. Finally he gave up and just rolled it along until Ichigo told him it was big enough. He pushed it over to the disembodied figure almost as tall as Ichigo himself, "Here."

Ichigo grunted trying to lift the thing, but managed to position it correctly on top. "Alright, now for the accessories…" They thought for a moment, Ichigo striking a brilliant idea (Kugo had a stubborn streak as far as creativity went). "I've got it! Hold on, be right back!" He jogged inside, abandoning Kugo to the whispering wind and still freezing snowfall. When Ichigo returned he was carrying some familiar items. He added an all too familiar hat and scarf, then made eyes out of olives, a nose out of a baby carrot, and for the finishing touches two sticks for arms. He sketched a smile into the snow with his finger, getting the curves just right.

They stepped back to admire their completed job. Kugo huffed, his breath visible as it practically flash-froze, "What did that accomplish?"

"When you put it that way…"

"Are those Yukio's hat and scarf?"

"Yeah. I tried to get the eyes as green as possible, so olives had to do." They stared for a moment longer. "Pretty close, isn't it?"

Kugo chuckled, "It's the unhappiest thing I've ever seen, but it is a spitting image of that poor kid. He's gonna have a heart attack when sees this." He examined the Snow Yukio over again, barely noticing that Ichigo had slunk off. "I just hope he doesn't stick us in his video game and put us up against a virtually invincible boss—Ichigo?" Kugo realized he was gone. "Hey, Ichigo? Where'd you go?"

A snowball spiraled out of nowhere. Kugo reflexively dodged it, ducking under two more that were tossed in his direction. "What the hell was-?"

Ichigo laughed from his safety behind a tree, juggling three snowballs. He popped out from hiding and chucked them, one successfully nailing Kugo in the face and knocking him back on his ass. "You're too slow, Ginjou!"

Kugo scrambled behind a tree himself, wiping him face clean with the back of his sleeves, "OH! The war is on, Kurosaki!" He attempted to make a snowball and succeeded this time, wincing to the sound of a soft pounding against the other side of the trunk. Exhaling sharply he dared to glance around to the opposite side of the yard, only to have a projectile just skim the side of his cheek; he countered by throwing his ammo blindly, earning a pleasing cry of surprise.

Ichigo had been hit in the shoulder, "Nice shot!" He called out, brushing the white from his coat. Four more snowballs were tossed aimlessly at him in hopes of hitting the mark. There was a sudden silence as neither side moved; Ichigo chucked his snowball around the trunk—but he knew something had gone wrong when a young voice cried out, his tone mingled with shock. He glanced around to see that he had hit Yukio, who was now dusting the snow from his sleeve. "Sorry, Yukio!"

"It's OK!" He called back. "What are you guys doing?"

"Snowball fight," Ichigo answered, turning away to make himself more ammunition. "What are you doing?"

"I came back early; everyone else kept stopping at like every store we passed, so I ended up with a headache… Is this snowman supposed to be me?"

"Maybe," was Kugo's response, "I figured you would've had a heart attack if you saw it." Yukio clutched his jacket above his heart and gagged, collapsing into the snow. "Oh, save us the melodrama, Yukio!"

Ichigo noticed they both went quiet for several moments. He suspiciously glanced around to see that Yukio was gone, his tracks already coated over. Figuring they left him to freeze outside, he stood and brushed off the back of his jeans—which was a bad idea, because now with no cover he took four blows to the chest. "HEY!"

Different pitched laughs echoed from behind Kugo's fort. Aware that they had teamed up, Ichigo smirked and crafted as many snowballs as he could carry at once, advancing in their direction. He popped out screaming "AMBUSH!" and, wind milling his arm, launched an assault.

Kugo grabbed the kid, "RUN YUKIO!" and took off, practically towing him along. Ichigo was persistent, chasing them until they collapsed from sheer exhaustion and called uncle. "OK!" Kugo exclaimed, splaying out on his back, "OK! You win! I give!" As a sign of triumph Ichigo nailed them each in the face with additional snowballs before kneeling between them.

Yukio stood, brushing off his pants, "My ass officially has frost bite. I'm heading inside to make something warm for us to drink!" He jogged off, leaving the other two abandoned in the subsided storm.

Ichigo leaned over Kugo once Yukio was out of sight, "Not so cold now, are you?"

"I can't feel anything so how would I know?"

Giving in, Ichigo slipped his fingers around the back of Kugo's neck and brought him forward so their lips met. Warmth erupted from deep within Kugo's chest, spreading outwards to every part of his body like wildfire. He would have reacted, but he couldn't. He was pinned, almost, the heat spanning into the tips of his fingers, the vermillion dancing across his cheeks. Ichigo pulled away and said meekly, "How about now?" He blushed at his own comment.

Kugo grinned. He kissed the other boy again, his insides melting, his brain malfunctioning. Ichigo would never receive an answer to that question, not that he needed one.

Somewhere, in the deepest part of Ichigo's mind, he knew Kugo really did love winter all along.

When the other Xcution members returned home later they were instantly greeted by the Yukio Snowman still standing guard out front.