"Oi, can't ya keep it down, Ran-chan? Some of us, unlike you, DO work." Both heads swiveled to the door at the cool, oddly accented voice that belonged to an even odder man.
"Ichimaru." Hitsugaya hissed. Though he couldn't see the creep's eyes, he could FEEL them raking over him. He pulled the blankets up higher.
"Very lovely, little Hitsugaya. No wonder Ran-chan won't play with me anymore. Not with such a delight in her bed."
Matsumoto moved protectively in front of her taichou. Ichimaru was her childhood friend, and over the years they often 'played' together, so she knew full well what happened when he got that glint in his eye. The object of that glint was often in for a rough- if highly enjoyable- time. She'd seen the marks on Kira's body, and experienced them herself multiple times. But she couldn't stand to see her Toushiro-taichou like that. And right now, that glint was for him. "Is there something I can help you with, Ichimaru-taichou?"
Ichimaru's smile widened at her protective gesture. So she finally found someone she wouldn't share, much like he had with Kira. Still, it never hurt to ask. "Care to share that tempting morsel behind you?" He leaned casually against the door frame, grinning and peering over Matsumoto's shoulder to the taichou in her bed.
Hitsugaya squeaked and pulled the covers over his head. Laying a hand on his blanket covered leg, Matsumoto stared evenly at her long time friend. "Sorry, no. Now, if that's all, kindly leave, Ichimaru-taichou."
He chuckled. "Too precious to share? I see. Very well, then. I don' wanna keep ya from yer …activities." He said the last word with a leer to the small lump in her bed, then he turned and left.
Matsumoto snorted then turned around. "Shiro-chan?" She pulled down the blankets and was met with an aquamarine glare that was ruined by the bright blush below it.
"Don't you Shiro-chan me, Matsumoto. You're on thin ice. You're about to turn into ice."
She blanched then snorted again. "Fine, you win." She settled herself on the floor and grabbed her bowl, ignoring him and concentrating extra hard on her food.
Hitsugaya stubbornly stared at the ceiling before her loud munching and his rumbling stomach got the better of him. He braced his hands on the mattress and carefully, slowly, oh so slowly, sat up.
He got barely even half way up when a loud crunch from Matsumoto made him jerk his head; sharp pain lanced through his skull. "Itai!" He gasped, falling backwards. His head never hit the awaiting pillow; strong arms caught him, easily gathering him against an overly plump chest.
His vision swam; he closed his eyes and waited until his head stopped spinning from the sudden movement. "Toushiro, let me help you." Matsumoto ran long fingers through his thick, soft hair.
"I'd say you've 'helped' enough, Rangiku." He was still pissed. Well, considering all that had happened to him, he had a right to be.
She exhaled loudly. "It wasn't like I knew they were gonna do that to you. It wasn't planned- at least, not on my part. Besides, a yukata is a yukata, and you look adorable!"
"Yukata I can live with. Nail polish, however, is crossing the line and then some."
"Fine. After lunch I'll take it off for you." She felt him nod against her in agreement. "Think you're okay to sit up by yourself now?" She felt him nod again, his fluffy hair brushing against her skin, then she heard his stomach grumble. Smiling, she propped the pillows up to support him, then slowly eased him backwards. She set his bowl on his lap, then settled herself back down onto the floor with her own bowl.
Hitsugaya peered down into his, scrunching his pert nose up in distaste. It was a suspicious looking, murky, dark brown broth that resembled the contents of fourth division's buckets when they cleaned out the sewers. There were no vegetables, meats, or seasoning of any kind visible; just watery, opaque broth.
Tipping his head forward, closer to the bowl, he tentatively sniffed. Immediately, he jerked back, small hands clasped over his mouth and nose, teal eyes wide. It looked like sludge from a clogged toilet and smelled worse. Like sewer sludge, stagnant swamp, and rotting corpses all fermented together in a not-so-appetizing brew. No one seriously could expect him to eat THAT! Holding his breath, he pushed the bowl as far away as possible.
Crunching happily on her own meal, Matsumoto glanced sideways at her taichou when she heard movement on the mattress. "Toushiro-taichou?" He was curled up tightly against the pillows, covering his nose and mouth protectively and glaring at his lunch.
He dare not take his eyes off the bowl- something horribly evil must be lurking in its murky depths. Like leftover bits of decayed hollow guts. He shuddered, stomach churning at the thought. "I'm not hungry." He mumbled, voice muffled by his hands.
She popped a juicy morsel from her bowl into her mouth, chewing loudly and licking her lips in satisfaction. "Unohana-taichou said it won't upset your stomach."
"She's right. It won't. Because it's not going in my stomach!" He glared at the bowl warily, as if expecting a hollow to jump out from the stinky brown broth and gobble him up.
"Shiro-chan-"
"YOU take a bite first, then." He cut her off, sea foam green eyes turning to her challengingly.
Matsumoto looked at his bowl, curled her full lips in distaste, and promptly shoved her mouth full with her own food. His huge eyes traveled down to her bowl, and his face slackened in shock
