I'm still alive... just barely, but alive.


Jealous

Some of Ichigo's friends from the hospital had dragged him to a club that Friday night, so, naturally, he had dragged Toushiro with him. Ichigo wasn't a big bar or club person; the music was always too loud and he wasn't a fan of hundreds of drunk, sweaty people pushing up on him. But, it had been a long few weeks at Karakura General Hospital and he had promised the other interns that he would go out with his friends to kick back a bit. He would have preferred to go out to dinner, or something quieter, but this was way cheaper, as his friends had so kindly pointed out. So, he begged his boyfriend to come with him and Toushiro – being the closeted sweet-heart that he was – caved in with minimal resistance.

"Are you wearing those pants?" Toushiro asked with a raised eyebrow.

Ichigo looked down at his dark-wash, skinny jeans; he didn't see anything wrong with them. "Yeah, why?"

Toushiro wrinkled his nose. "They're a bit tight, aren't they?"

He snorted softly. "You worried people will stare at me?"

"No, your face will turn anyone off."

"Ha ha, you're hilarious. Plus, you shouldn't be talking to me about tight pants when yours fit like a second skin. How did you even get into them?"

A pair of teal eyes rolling was his response.

The club was packed, as expected; Ichigo held Toushiro's hand tightly as they made their way through the crowd and directly to the bar. He needed to be tipsy, if not drunk, to deal with anything that happened that night. Toushiro slipped onto a stool next to where Ichigo leaned against the bar as he ordered two drinks.

"How long do you think we have to stay here?" Ichigo shouted, the music had already gotten on his nerves.

Toushiro shrugged. "They're your friends, not mine; you should know the answer to that."

Ichigo huffed as the bartender slid the two drinks over to him. He handed one to Toushiro and downed half of his in one gulp. The shinigami stared at him with a slight raise to one of his eyebrows. Ichigo shrugged; he might as well try to enjoy the night right?

It took a bit more than one drink before he allowed himself to be pulled onto the dance floor by one of his friends, and another to get him to loosen up after that. At least the music wasn't completely terrible. He pulled Toushiro's hips against his and rolled them in time with the music, or not; he was past caring at this point and he wasn't a strong dancer to begin with. He really didn't care how he looked when another beer was shoved into his hands by one of his friends. He winked at him and disappeared into the crowd as quickly as he had appeared with a girl hanging off one of his shoulders. Ichigo chuckled at the bizarreness of this situation before taking a few large gulps from his beer. He spun Toushiro around to face him and ground their hips together. Toushiro went along with it, but eyed the beer in Ichigo's hand with a slight frown. The redhead grinned and handed the bottle to his boyfriend who took it with some hesitancy and finished what was left.

"How many was that?" the shinigami shouted over the music.

Ichigo shrugged; he wasn't keeping track of his drinks, he probably should have been, but he couldn't remember. "Four or five."

Toushiro shook his head. "We should take a break for now."

Ichigo knew his boyfriend was a lightweight. He didn't drink much, if anything at all. So it usually took one drink to get him past tipsy. He usually called it in after two; he just didn't have the body mass to take well to alcohol. Ichigo thought it was adorable, of course.

Toushiro pulled him off the dance floor and over to one of the high tables that were set close to the walls. "Get some water," he instructed.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "'M not drunk," he said, but his tongue messed up his words, "besides I have to pee."

Toushiro snorted and Ichigo sloppily – because Toushiro kept on moving, not because his depth perception was off – pecked him on the temple as he left to find the bathroom. He did get a bottle of water from the bar, because after using the bathroom he realised how thirsty he was and just how badly his head had been buzzing. He cracked the seal open and he made his way back to Toushiro while taking a long sip. The cold water tasted like heaven, but when he lowered the bottle from his face and pushed through the outer ring of the crowd he stopped so suddenly that a few people bumped into him.

"Hey watch it, man," someone grumbled, but Ichigo ignored him and stared at the man who sitting across from Toushiro stirring his drink with a straw. He had on a tight, super-deep V-neck tee; it was white and almost see-through - Ichigo could make out a pair of impressive pecs and a hairless chest. His hair was impeccable, perfectly slicked back, and the hand that stirred his drink was neatly manicured. He was hot, or would have been hot it he wasn't hitting on Ichigo's boyfriend.

Toushiro had his chin propped up in one of his hands and was staring at the man with a small smile. Ichigo's stomach bubbled uncomfortably, not from the alcohol, and his chest twisted as an intense heat rose from his stomach to the top head. When the man reached out a heavily muscled arm to stroke Toushiro's shoulder Ichigo saw red.

He marched over to the table, glaring at the man for all he was worth. As soon as he was in arms reach he grabbed Toushiro's chin, forcing his gaze away from the man and crashed their lips together. If Toushiro was surprised he did not show it. He responded instantly by kissing back with such ferocity that Ichigo almost forgot about the man sitting across from them. He eyed him from over Toushiro's shoulder, satisfied that he left without any trouble.

"Who the hell was that?" Ichigo asked when he and Toushiro broke apart.

"Dunno," Toushiro shrugged.

"He was hitting on you."

"So? Doesn't mean I asked him anything."

"Why didn't you tell him to get lost?"

"Are you jealous?" Toushiro asked with a smile.

Ichigo glared.

"Gods ichigo. Why? Didn't you see him?"

"Didn't you?"

Toushiro laughed, "You should know by now that's not my type." He leaned in close and licked the shell of Ichigo's ear. "I like tall, tetchy, redheads with massive zanpakutos."

Ichigo turned his head and pecked him on the lips. Only then did he realise that he tasted of fresh alcohol.

"Did that loser by you a drink?"

Toushiro grinned guiltily. "You were taking long and I needed something else to get through his flirting."

"We should get you home," he glanced at his watch, "I'll go round up the others, the club's closing soon anyway. Sit tight and try not to attract anymore weirdos, okay?"

"'M not gonna promise anything." Toushiro smirked.

"Behave, Shiro."

Hair

Toushiro loved Ichigo's hair. He loved the colour, the thickness, and how it stuck up in the mornings. He loved running his hands through the bright, silky strands when they lay in bed together or when Ichigo used his lap as a pillow. And, on special occasions, he even loved to shampoo Ichigo's hair when they showered together. He thought that Ichigo's hair made him even more special than he already was; he had yet to come across anyone else, besides Orehime, who was a natural redhead. Red hair, as it seemed, was very uncommon, especially in Japan. Still, Toushiro didn't share with Ichigo how much he liked his hair, but he long since suspected that he knew or either liked to have Toushiro play with it.

They had spent most of their Saturday lounging on the couch watching TV; a marathon of a popular cop drama was showing. Toushiro had spent the past week organising a new recon mission, so he was a bit worn out and didn't really want to do much that day. Ichigo was just content to be lazy. He was lying on his stomach with his head on Toushiro's lap while Toushiro buried his hands in Ichigo's hair.

"I'm thinking of getting it cut," Ichigo said suddenly.

Toushiro hummed in question.

"My hair, I've had the same look since high school. The guys at the hospital said it makes me look immature."

Toushiro frowned. "You're almost six feet tall, how the hell could you look immature?"

Ichigo shrugged and rolled onto his back. "What do you think?"

"About cutting your hair?"

He nodded.

"Well, I... I don't know..." he looked pointedly at the television screen.

"I wouldn't cut it too short, but they did have point, I mean most people won't take a doctor with bangs very seriously."

Toushiro shrugged. "You could always just brush it back."

Ichigo shook his head, his hair tickling Toushiro's bare thighs. "It's bad enough that I have red hair-"

"What's bad about you having red hair?"

"Everyone thinks it's bleached... not very professional if you ask me."

Toushiro huffed, "Well I like it. It suites you and any other colour would look stupid."

Ichigo chuckled; a light blush began to dust his cheeks. "What about cutting it though? You don't think it makes me look like a college student?"

"No, I just said I liked it, didn't I?" he reached down and brushed Ichigo bangs from his forehead. "Besides, I like being able to play with it, I don't know how I'd feel about short hair."

Ichigo grinned and his blush became more pronounced. "I'm not gonna shave it off," he muttered, "I just want something a bit neater." He pointed to an actor on the screen, "What about something like that?"

Toushiro snorted. "Not at all."

Ichigo huffed and nuzzled Toushiro's stomach, "Stop making this so difficult. Just because you have the hair of a movie star... we're not all that lucky."

It was Toushiro's turn to blush. "N-no... that style would just make you look old. Short hair would age you by, what, ten years."

"No it wouldn't. What if I did the thing with the sides shorter than the top?"

Toushiro frowned slightly, picturing it. "I don't know..."

"Well, if it looks terrible I can always grow it back."

Toushiro sighed, but he still went with Ichigo to the barber's the following week. He watched with an uneasy stomach as clumps of orange hair feel to the ground and refused to raise his eyes to see the damage that Ichigo's head was taking. How would he be able to live if he couldn't run his fingers through Ichigo's hair, what if it didn't stick up in the mornings anymore? He had to keep on reminding himself that it was only hair; Ichigo would still be the same person. This would change nothing –

"What do you think, Shiro?" Ichigo asked.

Toushiro heard the squeak of the chair as Ichigo spun to face him. He slowly raised his head and his breath caught in his throat. Ichigo did end up doing the thing 'where the sides were shorter than the top'. It didn't make him look older, per say, but definitely more mature and – dare he say it – hot. It was neat, but just messy enough that he didn't look like a corporate businessman and Toushiro was a bit relieved that the overall length hadn't suffered too terribly (especially when he realised later that night that the shorter bits felt very much like smooth velvet). He could say, without a doubt, that Ichigo was the hottest man he had ever laid eyes on.

"Not too bad, right?" Ichigo asked with a grin.

Toushiro snorted and folded his arms across his chest. "I'm going to be blunt with you, Ichigo. It's going to take some time to warm up to."

"Really?" Ichigo's grin fell slightly.

"But I like it. A lot."


Drunk Toushiro is very horny ;) and that style where 'the sides are shorter than the top' seems to be a trend with guys now a days. I personally can't picture Ichigo with anything other than his orange mop, but for the sake of the prompt...

This set was donated by BlazeMary (sorry I took so long).

As always please review and tell me what you thought. Also if you'd like to donate any prompts either drop them off in a review or a PM.

-Mymomomo