A/N Ah, I took so many ideas from so many fics that I'm not even sure which belong to which

Title: Matsumoto – Fangirl Caught!

Characters: Matsumoto, Hitsugaya (HitsuMatsu), Ichigo, Renji, Kuchiki Byakuya

Rating: M

Summary: Three shinigami find a very pressing need to have a conversation with Matsumoto about her fanfic distribution service. Several ships, some implied.

Disclaimer: Own no part of Bleach, not even bleach

A/N For Elphaba85. Thanks for the brainstorming, and I tried to include all your suggestions. Sort of.

For those of you who have already seen this, sorry for the double posting. I finally decided to put it up on FF, since if I'm writing ByaRen and posting it here, I should hardly have any qualms about a little het heat!

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The remnants of the setting sun threw its rays through the windows and cast them on the piles of paperwork in the Tenth Division office. Black lines ran across paper, sped along by rapid movements of hand and brush. Finally, Hitsugaya laid aside his brush with a murmur of relief and Matsumoto, alert to the least changes in her taichou's mood, grasped her moment.

"Taichou!" she sang. "Look what I have here!" She held up a thin stack of pages beguilingly.

Hitsugaya glanced over at her with a jaundiced eye. "What now? The latest mad caper between Abarai and Kurosaki that ends in some supply closet? Or some other poor sod being flexible in ways I don't even want to think about?" Examples of Matsumoto's current preoccupation with BL fan-fiction were strewn all over her desk, and to Matusmoto, a hobby shared was a pleasure doubled. Hyourinmaru had not needed any encouragement, but Hitsugaya was a much tougher nut to crack.

"No, Taichou, better! Doujinshi!" Matsumoto's full, pink lips were lifted upwards by a very impish smile. A smile full of rich promise, as rich as the gold in her hair. An elegant, manicured hand swept the silky length of her auburn locks.

Hitsugaya folded his arms and leaned back against his chair. An eyebrow cocked, he asked cordially, "And what is so fascinating about some smutty pictures that you have to call them to my attention?"

"Oh, it's the best kind of doujingshi, Taichou." The tone was coyly teasing, throatily warm.

"Indeed?" A smidgeon of interest appeared.

Matsumoto's smile grew catlike. The smile of a cat with a full bowl of cream. "Wouldn't you find doujinshi about us fascinating, Toushiro?" A finger reconnoitered the fragile line of her jaw.

A faint smile started at the back of the liquid eyes. A pause in mock thought. "Surely it would depend on the doujinshi, Rangiku." His tone was offhand and deliberately jaded. An elbow shifted to the armrest and he rested his cheek on the hand that came up—a study in boredom.

Holding his eyes, Matsumoto slowly rose to her feet and playfully sashayed over to the desk, hand on one sinuous hip, the other arm draped loosely against her thigh. Her long, tapered fingers meandered across the wood as she cast a come-hither over her shoulder. "How about a mature older woman initiating her younger virgin lover?" She sat gracefully on the desk and crossed her slender legs, leaning back on her arms, full bosom supported by narrow waist.

Heavy lids lowered over glinting teal eyes. "It has possibilities," Hitsugaya acknowledged. "Satisfy my curiosity. How would she proceed?"

Matsumoto raised her hands to her delicate throat and unwound her pink scarf with excruciating slowness, then played at the knot on her obi before pulling on it. "First," she said, voice at its huskiest register, "she entices, just a little…" With a light flick, she tenderly trailed scarf and obi over Hitsugaya's lap, then let them drop. "Then," holding both narrow wrists a shoulder's span apart, "she lets him tie her up, gently." Lips curving, he complied. A shrug, and her shikahausho fell off one creamy, flawless shoulder. "Finally," bending forward and letting her breath tremble over the fine hairs on his neck, while her bound hands settled lightly on his shoulders, "she invites him to explore, if he pleases."

"A most commendable program," he whispered. "And is he bold enough to seize the invitation?" His hands settled on her waist and began brushing light circles over her ribs.

Her pearly teeth sank against his neck. With a light nip, she breathed, "Is there anything that Hitsugaya Toushiro, wielder of Hyourinmaru, fears?"

There was a sudden movement and the room spiraled about her as she suddenly found herself on the couch. Hitsugaya lay over her, balanced on one lower arm, the other hand toying with the pulse at her neck. "Not this," his head lowered, "Never this." He tasted like the strongest mint, icy and burning and refreshing all at once, with a hint of tea. Delicately, she sipped. "Undo your ties," she murmured longingly.

"And I thought young men were the importunate ones," he mocked gently. "Has the mature older woman turn decided to skip to the middle?" Nevertheless, he reached back and tugged at his waist ties.

Matsumoto's eyes lit with provocative amusement. "What else can the mature older woman do, when her lover is a universally acknowledged genius?" Under her hands, haori and shikahausho slid smoothly down tautly lean muscle. Slender fingers calloused by the sword followed them, creating pools of friction where they lingered, over collarbones and arms cleanly outlined, made strong by the weight of an icy bankai, along a landscape of smooth downs, and descending to the boundary of skin and cloth. Then she leaned up, lips parted and yearning, and he met her halfway, as always, and teasing abruptly became recognition and power and potency.

Mouths voracious and bodies shivering, skin slid over unwrapped skin as the office doors were flung open and Ichigo bounded in, calling out an irate, "Hey, Toushiro! What?"

The world held its breath as time froze. Then Hitsugaya, having the greater presence of mind, settled his shikahausho on Matsumoto, peeling off his haori to swing it over his own shoulders. Ichigo remained a petrified but steadily reddening statue.

Before Hitsugaya could blast Ichigo into the next dimension, the flat, indifferent voice of Kuchiki Byakuya spoke from the doorway. "Perhaps we should return later." Beside him, Abarai Renji gaped in wild speculation. Disgruntled, Matsumoto muttered to Hitsugaya's back, "This wasn't in the doujinshi," and saw the slight twitch of his shoulders that signaled he was holding back some strong emotion.

After a short hiatus, Hitsugaya spoke in his normal uninflected tones. "No, please stay. If the three of you are here together, it isn't a matter to dismiss lightly." He turned to Matsumoto. "Matsumoto, tea." It would give her some time to right herself.

"Yes, Taichou!" she replied in her best adjutant's voice, then turned smartly on her heel and strode with precise steps out of the office, despite being garbed in Hitsugaya's shikahausho from back to front.

Quickly, she shunpoed to her room and restored her uniform to its former impeccable state, then flashed to the kitchen. 'Hai-kitty, why didn't you or Hyourinmaru warn us?' Haineko sniffed. 'Couldn't raise either of you. Next time, get a room.' A rough lick against her neck. 'Ichigo was pretty funny, though. Toushiro reacted nimbly, as always.' Haineko approved of Hitsugaya. A small giggle escaped Matsumoto as she pictured his last appearance. Calm, icy eyes, ruffled hair, fading flush, pinkened lips, and haori flung over loosened hakama just barely masking the signs of affection Matsumoto frequently bestowed on his hips.

'Hyourinmaru tells me that Toushiro's changing. Renji and Ichigo are exclaiming in shock. Byakuya's looking everywhere but at the couch.' Haineko purred with sly mirth. 'Caught on the couch. What a lousy cliché, Ran-chan.' 'At least it's not stupefied in the supply closet, Hai-kitty.'

With a cheerful greeting, Matsumoto re-entered the office and serenely handed cups to their visitors. Never let it be said that the Tenth Division stinted on its hospitality or failed to put on a good show. Her taichou was in full uniform again and seated at his desk. She went to his side. Let all formalities commence apace.

"Kuchiki Taichou, pardon me, but you have not mentioned the purpose of your visit." Hitsugaya began on a note of query. Uncharacteristically, Kuchiki remained silent, and in his demeanor could be found the faintest trace of… uncertainty? Hitsugaya and Matsumoto registered their puzzlement with a slight flicker of eyelids.

Surprisingly, it was Ichigo who spoke. "They're here about those fan-fiction stories. They traced the source to this office." Hitsugaya glared out of the corner of his eye at Matusmoto. "Oh, I don't think it's official or anything like that. I came here about that too, but I'm all set now. I'll just head off then! Later,…"

Abarai growled as he reached out to grip Ichigo's collar. "What do you mean you're heading off? I thought you came to demand an explanation!"

"Let go of me, you idiot! I said I was done! You're the one who still has problems."

"You're the one with a problem. Who barges into a room without first knocking? I can't believe…"

"That's why I don't have a problem, imbecile!"

"Perhaps we might hear an explanation before you leave, Kurosaki." The voice was steely with ice-laced patience. "You owe that to us, at least."

Ichigo reddened and scratched his head. "Er, sorry about that, Toushirou! Didn't expect… I mean, you should lock your doors when you doing that… you know!"

Hitsugaya gritted his teeth momentarily. Ichigo always managed to irritate him. "The door was locked! Your idiotic reiatsu blasted through it when you met resistance. Didn't we teach you control a while ago?" A coalition of captains and ex-captains, Hitsugaya among them, had sat on Kurosaki with the ultimatum—learn to seal or be sealed. His power was causing too many rippling effects in the living world. Faced with a deadline, Kurosaki had, as usual, come up to the mark.

A shadow of a grin crossed Ichigo's face. "Yeah, but you didn't know I was there before that, did you?"

The temperature in the room plummeted. Kuchiki merely closed his eyes, Abarai look half-amused, half-exasperated, and Matusmoto was trying to contain her giggles.

Ichigo hurriedly held out his hands in front of him. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! No need to get all het up!"

"And your explanation, Kurosaki?" A diamond-and-turquoise glare.

Ichigo looked abashed. "Well, it all started with Rukia." Beside him, Abarai gave a half-snort, then shot a swift glance at his taichou, whose eyes were still meditatively shut. A lot of Ichigo's problems did start with Rukia. "She was reading some fan story thing—to gain a better understanding of human creative imagination and social mores—she said, and she made me listen to her read. Toushiro, when did you ever meet Karin?"

Hitsugaya looked perplexed. "Karin?" "His underaged, jailbait sister," Matsumoto whispered. "That football-crazy kid. You're a popular pairing."

Hitsugaya stifled a sigh. Matsumoto decided that, for Hitsugaya's temper and Ichigo's peace of mind, it was more politic for her to reply in his stead. "We met her while you were away training, Ichigo. She knew we were shinigami, and she was trying to find you. Taichou played a game of football with her."

Ichigo looked relieved. "I thought it was something like that, but I just had to make sure, you know? I mean, you might look like you're in your teens, but Karin's really still in her teens. Anyway, given that… " His hand waved vaguely at Hitsugaya and Matsumoto.

"Karin's a good kid, Ichigo. Was there anything else you wanted to see Taichou about?" Once again, Matsumoto jumped into the fray.

Ichigo blushed again and refused to meet her eye. "Um, well, actually… I guess there's no need now, but maybe it's better to get it all out in the open. Rukia also found the, ummm," he swallowed, "IchiHitsu stories fascinating, and I just wanted to let you know that… there's nothing at all like that on my part, and I guess… seeing as… nothing on your part either." His voice trailed off.

Matsumoto's eyes were alit with merriment. "Are you going around Seireitei reassuring all the people you've been paired with, Ichigo?"

"No, not at all," Ichigo protested. "But since fan-fiction is the current fad here, I thought I'd clear things up with the major ones in case anyone misunderstood, as I'm always popping in. Already told Renji…"

"Hah," Renji snorted, "as if I'd come within a mile of your skinny ass!"

"What do you mean, my ass? Maybe it's your ass I don't want to see!"

"Thank you, Kurosaki." The tone was even. "I appreciate the sentiment."

"You're welcome, Toushiro. Sorry again about just now. I'm off for real now."

"What do you mean you're leaving now? I thought you were coming with us to demand that Matsumoto stop sending out those stories."

"How long will it take to get it into your thick head, Renji? The Internet's a free for all. Even if Matsumoto stops her distribution, people are still going write, and other people are still going to want to read. It won't be long before someone like Rukia, or maybe Nemu at the Twelth, starts distributing again! Heck, for all I know, the entire SWA's in on this! Besides, they're just stories."

"Just stories, huh? Says the guy who's going around Seireitei telling everyone he's not interested in them!"

Ichigo coloured and suddenly looked discomfited. "I know they're just stories, but Ishida gets possessive, you know…"

"Ishida!" Everyone looked astonished. Even Kuchiki reopened his eyes. As for Matsumoto, she was nearly shimmering with unholy excitement. Ichigo and Ishida Uryuu! She had never figured Ichigo for an arm man. The archer was skinny all over, and overly pale, but those archer's arms were gorgeously defined by nature and by art. Perhaps a Quincy genetic trait? Her reverie was broken by Hitsugaya's light cough. He was familiar with the light of fangirl fervor in Matsumoto's eyes.

"But Rukia…" started Renji, then went silent as his taichou's eye fell on him.

"Oh, Rukia knows." Ichigo's voice was amused and rueful. "She walked in on us. Made her day. Anyway, later, guys!" He was gone in a blur of speed.

Hitsugaya turned to the officers of the Sixth Division. "Kuchiki Taichou and Abarai Fukutaichou, I assume that you have come about those stories as well."

The noble inclined his head. "We had thought to bring your fukutaichou's involvement to your attention, but we see that you are cognizant of the situation. May I ask if you intend to intervene?"

Hitsugaya linked his hands on his desk. "I apologize if my fukutaichou has caused any problems for you. But may I suggest that Kurosaki is correct in his assumption that the distribution of stories will probably not cease even if Matsumoto does not supply them." He paused. "Furthermore, though I am Matsumoto's commanding officer, it is not within my jurisdiction to interfere with her private pursuits or her hobbies." "Apparently, you're one of Matsumoto's hobbies," muttered Abarai sotto voce. He was ignored.

Hitsugaya glanced up at Matsumoto. She looked as if butter would never melt in her mouth. "Matsumoto, given Kuchiki Taichou's concerns, and in light of his rank and position, perhaps some reassurance from you might be forthcoming?"

"Yes, Taichou. Kuchiki Taichou, I apologize for any inconvenience that has occurred. I assure you that, despite the pressure of fan interest, we have been most respectful in our selections and have taken care never to intrude on your memories. In fact, we never wish our readers to mistake fiction for reality and have only reprinted friendship fictions, as salutary examples of the shinigami spirit, or fictions on the more unlikely pairings."

"Unlike pairing! Hah!" exploded Abarai, "It's a downright invasion of privacy!" Then the redhead froze, suddenly pale, as Kuchiki turned to him with a short, "Renji!" before a similar stillness also overcame the latter.

Matsumoto's eyes lit in ecstatic speculation as they danced between Kuchiki and Abarai. This was a day full of the unexpected. But they were a beautiful couple, one so exotic in colouring, a hint of the untamed delineated by the geometric symmetry of his tattoos, the other so distant and poised, classical restraint and classical beauty bred in the bone. If one was fire and the other moonlight, what alchemy resulted when they joined?

Hitsugaya's voice broke the pregnant tension in the room. "Are you satisfied with my fukutaichou's assurances, Kuchiki Taichou? To my mind, this is just a fad and will soon come to a natural end. Therefore, I do not believe that complete censorship is the answer." He paused for the occupants of the room to reflect on his words.

"In the meantime, my fukutaichou has demonstrated that she has a responsible editorial policy that only accepts stories which feature unlikely pairings." He laid stress on the word "unlikely", and Kuchiki's stiffness eased. After a few moments of silent cogitation, he bowed slightly. "Thank you for your understanding, Hitsugaya Taichou, Matsumoto Fukutaichou. We will not intrude on your time any further. Come, Abarai."

Hitsugaya waited till they were almost through the doors before he spoke again, a dangerous edge to his voice. "Abarai," the object of his address turned back, "I am not Matsumoto's hobby, nor is she mine. Considering recent revelations, I trust that you comprehend that." Abarai flushed, then nodded. And they were gone. Immediately, Matsumoto turned to Hitsugaya.

"That's brilliant, Taichou! Hiding a secret out in the open. Thank goodness I can keep bringing those ByaRen fics in. They're so popular!" Then Matsumoto grew serious. "Thank you, Taichou, for backing me up. I know you don't really approve of my hobby."

Hitsugaya leaned wearily against his chair. It had been a day with too many alarums and excursions. "You're my fukutaichou, Matsumoto. And I think I'd rather have you distributing these stories than Kuchiki Rukia or Kurotsuchi Nemo—they have neither common sense nor discretion. Besides, you aren't breaking any rules except those governing good taste."

"Oh, Taichou, don't say that! Call it an intense interest in my peers instead! What an interesting day this has been! A shinigami and a Quincy—but they're of an age and have always been peers and comrades. I wonder when they got together? And Kuchiki Byakuya and Abarai-kun—now that's an explosive combination, worth several nosebleeds at least. So Kuchiki Taichou is probably the only one who knows the extent of those tattoos, since Abarai's modest even at the hot springs. Good thing Ichigo's otherwise attached—if it was like in the stories, black, red and orange, more than half the SWA will burst a major blood vessel!"

"Matsumoto!"

pairingsxpairingsxpairingsxpairingsxpairingsxpairingsxpairingsxpairings

The sounds of night drifted into the room on the light breeze. In the distance, the subdued uproar of gregariousness from the various bars deepened the quiet of the room.

"Well?" said Matsumoto challengingly. She looked at Hitsugaya and a miniature Hyourinmaru, coiled languidly on the back of a recumbent Haineko. "What do you think of my first fanfic?"

As Hyourinmaru whistled and Haineko purred, Hitsugaya held up his hand for silence. "As your taichou, Matusumoto, I don't really want to know about this." He got to his feet and set his hands at the lapels of his captain's haori. "But as Hitsugaya Toushiro," his stern lips relaxed into a knowing quirk, "I promise that come morning there will be no man on your mind but me."

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The End

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A/N I claim plausible deniability. Matsumoto wrote most of it. She insisted I channel her and beta for her as well. The opinions expressed here Matsumoto's only and may not necessarily reflect hu3long2's opinions. (Though she doesn't completely disagree with Matsumoto.)

I also blame Junjou Romantica.

I had a great deal of problems with the POVs. Hope they turned out all right.