Title: Snow
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: kissing, cussing, current with manga time line Ch. 195, probably OOCness, and definately WAFF, galore
Pairings/Characters: Hitsu x Matsu, Ikkaku, Orihime
Summary: Only snow can erase the world's worry-lines so well.
AN post-dated 2/14/06: Happy V-Day all! In celebration of the day I wrote this fluffy-ass fic. Now I'm going to go gather all my single friends and we're going to drink ourselves silly tonight. Nothin' says lovin' like chocolatinis, karaoke, and commiserating! Also, I have no idea if it snows in Karakura and it looks pretty warm in the current manga arc right now so this doesn't exactly fit in the canon, but please roll with it. And this is sorely under-edited. Sorry and thanks!

Cold wind cut through the borrowed coat, forcing him to pull it tighter around his small frame. Shivering, he stomped through the white mess, intent on not speaking to anyone. Hitsugaya just knew this day would only get worse and he didn't need to add to his problems by suffering through moronic conversations with complete imbeciles.

Ice and snow rolled in heady and thick yesterday evening, forcing Hitsugaya to take refuge in Inoue's small apartment. Already annoyed that he had to burden her with his presence when she obviously had little room or food to spare, he tried to avoid his guilt and the women by falling asleep as fast as possible. It didn't work; the girls kept him up all night with their chitter-chatter-natterings and he had no escape, trapped by the inclement weather. Hitsugaya could feel the lack of sleep and the stress of the past few days grinding harsh against his already frayed nerves.

Morning brought with it a pristine world, hidden under just enough snow to make the walk to school troublesome but not impossible enough to call off classes. It also found him lacking human outerwear and once more he had to depend upon the young girl's kindness.

The old, wool pea coat Inoue lent him was still in good condition, well-taken care of by its owner. It had all its buttons, a thick, intact lining, and sleeves long enough to hide his bare hands. All in all a fine enough coat except for one thing.

The color.

"I think taichou looks exceedingly handsome in pink," Matsumoto purred into his ear as they paused at the stop light. Cheeks already raw from the wind, Hitsugaya's blush hid itself behind the convenient cover; he could feel her breasts resting on his shoulders, pressing against the back of his head, too warm and too close. Like usual.

Hitsugaya wanted to curse Earth's fickle weather with all the fury his small frame could hold, shout the foulest words he knew to the white-heavy heavens, but every time he opened his mouth snow got in.

"Oi, Hitsugaya-taichou, you're lookin' a bit cold there. Aren't ya' supposed to be the master of th' best fuckin' ice sword this and that side of th' Society?"

Growling at Ikkaku's insolence, what did Zaraki teach his men if he didn't teach them respect for their betters? Hitsugaya ground out his reply, clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering as he spoke.

"It's like how you can't smell your own horrendous body odor. You've grown accustomed to the fowlness emanating from your disgusting self but you can smell Matsumoto's alien stench quite easily."

"Hey," Rangiku exclaimed, hands on her hips and a pout on her lips, "I've only said nice things to you today, taichou. Leave me out of this."

"You're all morons," he grumbled, crossing the street before the light changed, just daring a car to come along and end it all for him. He couldn't stand these idiots any more. He just couldn't do it.

Granted, Hitsugaya couldn't blame his annoyance entirely on the others. It wasn't their fault it snowed or that he had to wear a girl's pink pea coat. It also wasn't their fault that they were all, himself included, well out of their league here. Although the arrancars seemed to have fallen back for now, it was only a matter of time. As the highest ranking shinigami in their motley group, he found himself responsible not only for keeping everyone alive but, at the same time, figuring out what the hell Aizen has planned for the Soul Society, Earth, and Kurosaki Ichigo.

Oh yeah.

Good times.

The best.

"You assholes go on without us," he heard Matsumoto holler behind him, "we'll catch up. Taichou and I have some important business to discuss without you yahoos hanging around and fouling up the air."

With an collective, indifferent response the rest of their group continued on their way, the still-falling snow swallowing them up as they disappeared down the block. Hitsugaya tried to follow, not really wanting to know what his fukutaichou had in mind, but stopped at the gentle touch of her hand on his shoulder. Her glove-clad fingers were a pleasant change from her breasts and he figured he should return the favor by at least half-listening to what she had to say.

"Well, what is it Matsumoto?"

She glanced around, making sure the others were out of sight before leaning in close, her breath visible puffs of warmth against his cheeks.

"No one's around, taichou. You can drop the act and let me know what's bothering you."

"Nothing I haven't spoken about with you before," he snorted, pulling away and missing Matsumoto's warmth the instant he did. Damn, it felt like it was getting even colder.

"Just the mission? That's it?" she asked, her fine eyebrows arching high and hiding beneath her knit cap.

"Isn't that enough?" he snapped back. "You needn't worry yourself too much Matsumoto, it'll give you wrinkles. Can you afford any more at this point?"

Hitsugaya attempted once more to walk away but this time he felt the brush of a bitter laugh, lighter but more insistent than her hand moments before. Sighing, he scowled as nastily as he could at her; this really was the last thing he needed today and Hitsugaya would be damned if he didn't let her know that.

"So young yet so grown up, taichou. You're already a stubborn, silent, stupid man who refuses to let anyone even think about asking after his health. You keep everyone too far away from you and you'll get into trouble when you need someone quick. Hell, I can't even see you any more Toushirou..."

"That's Hitsugaya-taichou and you know it," he interrupted loudly, stepping up and as much into her face as he could, his reiatsu flaring just enough to punctuate his point. If he thought it would intimidate her, Hitsugaya was terribly, horribly wrong.

"...and it's no wonder I care about you," she continued, ranting around his objections. "You're just my type: a selfish, egotistical, secretive prig! Why don't you just run off to Aizen too; bet he'd just love to get his hands on that tight little ass of yours, taichou."

And then she grabbed him. He certainly wasn't expecting that.

Matsumoto hoisted him up by his pink coat lapels, yanking Hitsugaya out of his "attempted-menace" stance and up into a brand-new, awkward "barely-on-the-ground-and-kissing-my-fukutaichou" position. Hard, full of anger and heat, the kiss swallowed his arguments, his thoughts, and his tongue, in that order. Neither one of them closed their eyes and he could see so much annoyance and hurt in Matsumoto's should he think of her as Rangiku now, knowing what she tasted like? own gaze, defying him to pull away, to protest.

For once, he didn't.

And then it was over and he could taste snow and toothpaste and mint chapstick, all leaving him so damn cold that he'd give anything to have her warmth back against him, in him, around him.

So he kissed her this time.

Just as furious, just as perfect in its utter imperfection, Hitsugaya strained up to bring Matsumoto down to him. He felt her soft hair and the scratchy wool of her hat, despite the numbness in his fingers, smelled her perfume and the lingering scent of Inoue's attempt at breakfast, and for once didn't mind the press of her breasts against his chest.

When they finally parted she remained stooped over and he laid his cheek on hers, unable to look at her but unwilling to pull away just yet.

"Don't you ever compare me to Gin again, Matsumoto Rangiku," Hitsugaya almost-whispered, his voice rough and muffled by the snow blanketing everything. He felt giddy, different, and couldn't stop the words falling from his teeth and tongue to land in Matsumoto's ear. "Who stayed, huh? Who the hell stayed and fought and followed you here on this suicidal mission and kissed you despite the fact that you're my fukutaichou, one of my closest friends, and way too tall for me? I am nothing like that traitor and I never will be like him. You understand that?"

"I understand that you kissed me second, taichou," she laughed, her mirth ruffling his hair and tickling his ear. "You wouldn't have thought to do it on your own, I'm sure."

Matsumoto tightened her grip on him when he stepped back, holding him close.

"I also understand very well that you are you and no one else. I stepped out of line and I'm sorry."

"Well then, alright," he grumbled at her soft, low tone, unsure where to go from here. "Apology accepted. And I apologize as well. I can only do the best that I can, so please forgive me my shortcomings."

"Don't worry, taichou, you'll have a growth spurt soon enough. Until then we'll get you a kissing stool."

"I didn't mean it that way..."

Rangiku laugh again as she straightened, her hand squeezing his before walking on once more. He could only trail behind her and try to convince of his earnestness, that he was serious in his remorse and that his intentions towards her, while still unclear, were of only the purest degree. Everything he said she spun into a joke and although it infuriated him like usual, this routine, this normalcy after the line had been stomped out in the crossing, meant so much to him.

Perhaps it could work out, in the end.

Spring has to come sometime.

-fin-