Title: One of Those Moments
Pairing(s): Ichigo/Hitsugaya
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The transition into the New Year is over, but the cold remains, and perfection is once again obtained.
Warnings: Ichigo's mouth, as well as his slight perversion with Shiro-chan's blood. Shounen ai, yaoi.
Disclaimer: Bleach is not mine, but it's fun to write!
A/N: I apologize in advance for my dyslexic tendencies. This is the first fic in this fandom that I've ever written back in 2007! Please enjoy!

-Start-

"The snow is so beautiful, tonight..."

A light tug on the woman's robe directed her gaze downwards, away from the sky she had been watching. "Why do you say that, mommy?"

The maternal lady knelt to his level, resting a delicate hand atop untamed orange hair. "Everything is beautiful because I'm with you."

"That's silly. You're always with me."

She laughed and ruffled the boy's hair. "Well, Ichi-chan, not always." She smiled, looking back up at the dark sky. "But I have been spending a lot of time with you, lately. Maybe I should go pay attention to Karin or Yuzu instead..."

There was an almost immediate response to that. Young Ichigo grasped tightly to his mother's waist, burying his head against her clothed stomach. "Don't go! Don't leave me here!"

Again, her melodious laugh echoed throughout the air. "Aw, Ichi-chan, I would never leave you." She shifted until she was sitting on the ground with Ichigo in her lap. "Stay with me like this for a while, okay?" She ran her hand through his spikes.

"But it's cold."

"Yes, it is. If it weren't cold, then the snow would all melt away."

"Will that make mommy sad?"

"Yes."

He grinned up from where he was encircled in her embrace. "Then I wish the snow would never go away!"

Her child said the funniest things sometimes, and it caused her to laugh again. "It has to go away sometime." This made him frown, but she placed a reassuring smile on her lips. "It isn't just the cold, or the snow, that makes me happy. We take a moment to stop, look around, and admire the view with a person we love." She poked his nose. "It's one of those moments where everything is shiny and comfortable, shared with someone special."

Ichigo was in a stat of confusion and could only think of one question to clear it. He pointed to himself. "Am I special?"

She gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. "Yes, Ichi-chan, you are. And you always will be."

He looked around him, trying to figure out all that large talk in his head. The snow was shiny, he was comfy in his mother's lap, and he was special. He decided to ask her to make sure.

"So this is a moment?"

"Yes" was the simple reply.

Seconds ticked away, stars twinkled, and the moon hung big and heavy in the sky. The silence was broken with a sneeze.

"It's still cold!"

Ichigo cursed, realizing that his body had slowed to a complete stop during his sudden flashback, and he closed his eyes against the rush of emotional nostalgia that swept through him. It's been well over an hour, now, since his encounter with a persistent hollow. Kon, ever the irritating plush lion, had stowed away in his bag for a chance to go back to his school in hopes of squishing himself into the bosom of every girl there, and while it had irked the orange top to no end, the mod soul became pretty handy when, on his way home, a hollow had attacked. It was nothing, really. Just one of those small, weak ones that was easy to kill. It had speed and played a good game of hide and seek, but it was nothing compared to his strength.

Now he was on the way home, and Kon was stuffed unceremoniously back into his bag. His muffled complaining of the rough treatment and his crying for Rukia was almost enough to make his ears bleed, so he went the extra mile to stuff the toy's mouth and tape it shut, as well as tape the rest of his body together. It gave him relief. The mod soul was getting easily tempered these days, no doubt caused from the lack of his neesan. She seemed to find less time to visit him these days, but Ichigo would be lying if he said he didn't miss her, too.

Sighing and realizing he must have been really spaced out, he looked around. Where, exactly, was he? Great; the last thing he wanted was to be lost in his own town.

Ichigo dropped his bag, ignoring the obscenities that he could just barely make out, and jumped onto the lowest tree limb that was near him. He went as high as the thick branches would allow, which was just a little more than average, but it was enough. He spotted the edge of the small forest he was in and the park exit, so he marked a path toward it in his head. It still baffled him as to how he could get lost in such a small space of forestry since he could see the other end of the forest in the opposite direction.

He smoothly jumped down, yanked his bag off the ground, and continued on his way. He kept his mind shut, eyes open, and ears selectively tuning out Kon's indistinct rambling.

He was unsure why that memory decided to pop up when it did. He hadn't thought about that in a long time, not since before his mother died, and he figured that the memory must have gone into hibernation. The time of day and his location notwithstanding, why now after so many years? He had been on many treks through the snow with her. He remembered making snow people in the backyard, resembling their family. Snow angels, sledding, even ice skating.

All of those activities stopped after his mother passed away. But when he was with Rukia, he'd finally come to terms with her death, and he felt lighter, enough so that he even considered helping Yuzu make them again. The next step to healing would be to take up one of those old activities, but he figured that he might be too old for something like snowmen.

Clearing the dense foliage, Ichigo took a look around. The entrance to the park was to his left, indicated with nothing more than an empty road and sidewalk. Hunched shoulders deflating with relief, he trudged through the snow. His socks were wet. He was tired. Plus the hollow managed to nick a bicep; he wanted to get that treated before it became a problem. For now, he managed to wrap a spare bandage around it. His healing abilities were almost nonexistent compared to Orihime.

He touched the tender wound, wincing a little. It wasn't life-threatening, but it somewhat resembled a paper cut: it stung like a bitch.

Hiding a wince, Ichigo started to make his way towards the road, but part of the night flickered unnaturally in his peripheral vision and made him hesitate to go any further. Not quite sure what it was, he shifted his eyes to each side, keeping stone still. Was that a Hell butterfly? His brow furrowed. That was odd. What was one of those doing here? They normally didn't appear unless…

His ears picked up a distinct chiming sound, too high and delicate to be caused by any noise from the city. The next moment, it was was gone, along with the butterfly. Ichigo turned around, and the sight that met him was nothing short of breath-taking.

The figure of Toshiro Hitsugaya was gliding smoothly across the park's pond, which with his natural element has turned into a reflective sheet of ice. The night's wind shifted through his hair, ruffling it as if there were physical fingers running through it. His body consisted of black jeans and a sleeveless turtleneck the color of his eyes, which made for a very appreciative image. the only thing that fascinated Ichigo a little was the fact that Toshiro didn't seem to have any blades on his feet to carve into that ice. Nope, they were just a pair of regular boots.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he walked up to the edge of the pond, not trusting himself to be able to walk on it. Toshiro, on the other hand, seemed to be at complete ease. He was gliding silently in all sorts of directions. Forwards and backwards with little to no effort, leaning into large and heavy circles when he came near an edge, and hopping over stray grass that poked through.

Ichigo was awestruck, stupefied, mesmerized, and every other word associated to those types of feelings coursing through him. The Division Ten Captain was a perfect vision out there and he couldn't tear his gaze away. He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been staring, but when he came out of his dazed thinking, he was gazing into the very icy gaze of that child prodigy. He was no longer moving around the pond, feet firmly planted under him standing less than a couple of meters away.

"Idiot."

Wondering what "it's Captain Hitsugaya" was doing here in the human world, he let the question slip from his lips, lowering himself to a bench. He'll ignore that idiot comment in return for the nice show that Toshiro had given him.

"Hello, Toshiro. What are you doing here?"

Said silver-haired boy walked toward him, feet not even close to wavering or slipping as he languidly stepped across the frozen terrain. "I'm here for your monthly briefing."

Ichigo scrunched up his face. "I thought that was Renji's job…?"

"It is."

"Then where is he?"

The captain sat on the bench next to Ichigo, sighing. "He's back within the Court of Pure Souls. It seems that he doesn't agree with the cold weather and made an excuse to stay." He started picking at his fingernails, sliding a small knife out of his backside pocket, a mere letter opener, and started flicking the dirt away. "So I got stuck with the job because of my affinity, though in my opinion, Renji is just being ridiculous."

Ichigo waited for more. Was there anything to report? There certainly wasn't anything on his end; just a few low-leveled hollows. Aizen and Gin were still missing, too. When the silence continued, he tried to think of another topic for conversation, but with the frosty captain it was difficult to choose such a casual subject like the weather. He did notice, though, that Toshiro had yet to respond negatively to Ichigo using his name so familiarly, which was rather odd, but that didn't stop him from using it again.

"Umm... You were pretty good out there, Toshiro. You looked kinda cool," he said with a grin, indicating the iced-over pond with an index finger. That only earned him a half-hearted glare from the boy, as if to say, "obviously."

"I wield Hyorinmaru; of course I'd know how to travel around on his element."

He flipped the knife back into a pocket, shifting his body so that he was leaning on his side, invading Ichigo's personal space, and if he was being truthful, the orange-top had to admit that he didn't mind. It was cold outside, and although there was little to no warmth coming from the ethereal being beside him, Ichigo felt comfortable with his presence.

With a happy-go-lucky grin on his face, he chuckled. "I haven't been on Skates in a while, so I'm a bit rusty. My mom was pretty good, though."

Toshiro's cold indifference warmed lightly with sympathy, but his face remained a perfect picture of stoicism. "I'm sure she would be delighted if you picked it up again."

Ichigo shrugged and waved it off. "Nah... She was always happy when she was with the family. She's probably happy with a new one."

Hitsugaya nodded, once more letting the silence settle over them, a nod that wasn't in agreement, but rather acknowledgement, because he didn't know where she was, and if Ichigo wanted to think she was happy somewhere, then he wasn't going ruin those thoughts. He understood the concept of leaving old habits behind when it came to the dead.

Ichigo felt a little edgy and nervous, not feeling settled at all in the silence, and again looked for something to talk about. Toshiro may have been a quiet person, but Ichigo liked conversation, music, the television, anything that constituted as background noise. Someone was always talking, and it usually did a good job to keep himself from thinking too deeply about things: about his mom's death, about the family's depression, his own faults and what he had to do in order to cope. He must admit those were some of the darkest days in his life, the week after the funeral. Then there was Rukia, and she had made the rain inside his world stop, so now the constant noise he needed around him was just a bad habit he needed to kick.

Catching sight of something dark and shiny in Toshiro's lap, he pointed to it. "You're injured."

Toshiro blinked, brought out of his own thoughts by Ichigo's low voice, and lifted his hand to examine his thumb. A small cut shined in a thin line, droplets of blood welled along the wound in dark contrast to his pale skin. "So I am." He hadn't even noticed the slight sting of it, being used to getting paper cuts from the office work.

He didn't sound all that surprised, so Ichigo had to wonder just how often Toshiro got injured while on the job. There were times like his intrusion to soul society, and the events that unfolded with Aizen, but how often did those occur? Rukia has told him a few horror stories of the amount of paper work Aizen's betrayal has generated, but enough to cause bodily harm seemed far-fetched and exaggerated. Had Toshiro gone emo and intentionally hurt himself with the knife? He doubted that, and seeing how beautiful his blood looked trailing down his skin, Ichigo took that hand on mere impulse, bringing it closer to him as he leaned down. He could feel Toshiro still - not stiffen, he was very relaxed - every muscle in his body as Ichigo lazily dragged his tongue across the cut. The blood had been cooled, almost frozen, but he couldn't tell if that was from the weather, or Toshiro himself.

Looking up at the white-haired captain, Ichigo blushed almost as red as Renji's hair. The Shinigami was giving him an intense stare, eyes half-lidded, lips slightly parted, and he could feel Toshiro's thumb caressing his lips.

The rest of Toshiro's hand rested against his jaw-line, and Ichigo was unsure if he was pulling him, or if he was moving forward on his own, but they were getting closer. Toshiro's face filled his vision, his cold breath mingling with his own, and a blizzard of feelings oozing out of every pore.

Ichigo could no longer think about anything else as the cool touch of the captain's lips rested upon his own. They were lost to a place where time stood still. Their bodies seem to be glued to one another, hands straying to every available inch of hot and cold skin under their clothes. Tongues entwined in their mouths. Ichigo never thought ice to have a particular taste, but this ice definitely wasn't plain. Ichigo eagerly sought out more of that Toshiro-flavored ice, drawing his tongue into his mouth and sucking popsicle-like muscle.

They didn't pay any attention to the newly-falling snow, shining on every surface. They were paying attention to nothing but each other. Toshiro was the embodiment of the snow, which in turn reminded him of those moments he shared with his mother in the snow, the flashback from a few minutes ago the most prominent. Toshiro reminded him of her.

Toshiro... You've managed to surround my heart in your ice, in your snow. This was his winter, Ichigo could feel it.

It was one of those moments.

-OWARI-

Yay! There you have it! I hope you enjoy it. -Bows- Thank you for reading.

-LittleK
-Soloyuymaxwell
-Kuroneko Hikage
-Dee-Dee-Kun