Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach, I would be rich. As it is, I'm broke.

Happy Valentine's Day; yet another happy drabble, to balance out the sad ones.

4. Chocolate


Carpe Diem. Seize the day.

Or, at least, that's what Matsumoto had told her it meant, before pointing slyly at the small square on her calendar labeled February 14, circled with various shades of pink markers.

Hinamori, had, of course, heard of this peculiar holiday that humans generally celebrated on this particular day, and she had overheard enough excited gossiping from various females in her division to know what it meant. That knowledge, combined with her not-so-well-concealed feelings towards a certain Tenth Division Captain, accounted for the brilliant shade of red that had spread across her face when Matsumoto made a casual comment about the occasion, then dropped a real world magazine in her lap that would supposedly tell her how to make chocolate.

Hinamori had been too busy mustering her courage to even consider sending Hitsugaya-kun Valentine's chocolate to check the magazine for the recipe. In fact, she had gone and planned everything – taking a day off from work, borrowing a bag of chocolate mix from Rukia-san, buying the necessary foodstuffs and decorations, and inviting Hitsugaya-kun over for dinner – before putting on an apron and actually working on making the chocolates.

Hinamori had been more than just nervous, but between Matsumoto's pep talks and the amount of preparation she had done (she had even bought those adorable watermelon molds for the chocolate, to make hers stand out from the dozens of others Hitsugaya-kun would most certainly get from anonymous admirers), she couldn't back out of it anymore. Plus, Hitsugaya-kun had probably already received her invitation for dinner (and she had already prepared the dinner beforehand), so there really wasn't any going back on her decision. She would make him chocolate, and that was that.

But that was before she finally flipped open the magazine and realized, to her horror, that the entire thing was written in English.

Hinamori was having a minor panic attack. Her English wasn't anywhere near decent, and while she could make out a measurement here and a number there, the entire thing might as well have been in gibberish. By the time she had gotten a grip on herself and determinedly decided to do the best she could, Hitsugaya would be arriving in an hour. Which meant she had to get this done, and fast.

Now, standing in her own kitchen with an apron tied around her waist and her sleeves rolled up in proper housewife fashion, Hinamori tentatively opened the chocolate mix and poured what she hoped was the right amount into a measuring cup. She squinted at the magazine and tried to make out the next step.

Was that half-a-cup of milk, or half-a-cup of water? Or perhaps vinegar? She had no idea – might as well try all three in separate batches, and see which one worked. The oven was supposed to be preheated to...240 degrees? Or was she supposed to put the chocolate in the oven for 240 minutes?

Was she supposed to stir first, or let it set? When did the baking powder go into it? Did she need baking powder at all? Hinamori was painfully aware that she was in over her head, but the chocolate was for Hitsugaya. She couldn't just give up on it.

So Hinamori struggled the best she could with the various ingredients and utensils, wreaking general chaos and confusion in her small kitchen for the next thirty minutes. By some freak accident (or divine miracle), she managed to get a somewhat decent seeming mixture into the watermelon molds baking in the oven before the hour was up.

Only after she had popped the final batch into the oven did she stop to take stock of her kitchen.

There were spills and overturned containers everywhere. Globs of failed batches were almost overflowing from her small trashcan, and much more was liberally splattered across her countertops. There were open bottles and empty packets of sugar strewn across the floor and a half-empty pot of boiling water was still steaming on her stove. Hinamori glanced at the clock.

And nearly screamed.

Five fifty-five?! Oh god, Hitsugaya was arriving in five minutes! She couldn't let him see her kitchen like this!

Hinamori made a mad scramble for all the bottles and bags littering the floor. Gathering them up in her arms the best she could, she scrambled over to the already-filled-to-overflowing trashcan…only to stumble over an empty can she had overlooked. This sent tumbling off balance, dropping all of her hastily collected litter and throwing out a hand to steady herself.

The said hand landed on the kitchen stove.

With a pained yelp, Hinamori jerked reflexively away from the hot stove, nursing her burnt fingers, only to bump into her counter – where a pile of messy bowls and dishes were piled precariously next to the sink. The impact sent them tumbling down to crash into the sink…and onto the floor. Only her shinigami reflexes (which prompted her to get away from the plates in an ungainly hop-skip) saved her from the shattering ceramics.

Hinamori was too distracted by the plates to notice the oven's beeping sound until she smelt the faint tinge of smoke.

Then, as if to top off the entire fiasco, as she stood in her kitchen amidst the horrific mess…the doorbell rang. Then she heard the door open, as Hitsugaya let himself in.

"Momo? What are all of these decorations for…and why do I smell smoke?"

She didn't have to answer, because right after that, he opened the kitchen door. Hinamori was suddenly hyperaware of how ridiculous she must have looked – smeared from head to toe in chocolate paste and flour, nursing a burnt hand, and standing in the middle of her devastated kitchen – complete with smoke and the splattered remains of her would-be chocolate decorating the floor and walls.

Hitsugaya quirked an eyebrow. "What battle happened here?" he asked, surveying the degree of the damage.

"I…I…" Hinamori choked back her utter mortification and tried to keep herself from bursting into tears. "I was t-trying to make…ch-chocolate."Don't blush, don't blush…too late. Hinamori felt her face burn with embarrassment and immediately covered her face with her hands.

Her burnt hands.

Hitsugaya noticed immediately. "Hinamori…you burnt your hands…making chocolate?" His eyes were teasing, but filled with barely hidden concern. His trademark smirk was slowly making its way across his face.

Hinamori blushed harder and nodded dumbly, eyes dropping to her feet to avoid his gaze.

And suddenly, Hitsugaya was at her side, taking her hands into his and brushing them gently with his lips, planting a soft kiss that eased the stinging pain. Hinamori looked up at him in surprise, only to meet his brilliant, aquamarine gaze dead on.

And suddenly, she couldn't breathe.

"Baka Bed-wetter Momo, I get enough chocolate from other people." He scolded her softly. "You don't need to make me anything…"

He smiled at her – not a smirk, but a true, rare, Toushirou-smile that was reserved for her and her alone.

"…I already have you."

And suddenly, Hinamori realized, making chocolate hadn't been so bad after all.


Rewritten January 19th 2008