-Okay, so I have a bit of a note for Kai-Chan94 before I start this next set. You didn't fail your first time reviewing; I just didn't know how to organize your requests, so I was going to mix them into the actual one-word prompts I was given. Now that I have prompts from you they'll get their own chapter, but the other undefined request that you gave me will be covered in this set of drabbles, okay? I'll be posting the ones that had defined prompts (meaning the ones from your second review) in their own chapter. But I go in the order I receive, so they may be a chapter or two. Thanks for your patience. Now, back to the drabbles!

1: Fuel

"You need to eat, Toshiro," his worrying spouse scolded, looming menacingly over the desk full of paperwork that he still had left to do. He looked tiredly up at the other, wondering why exactly this topic was being brought up when there was so much work to be done.

"I will," he assured, though with less power than he'd thought based on Ichigo's less than amused reaction. "As soon as I get all of this done. It's much more important that I get all this done than eat lunch."

Ichigo leaned forward, cupping his hands around his cherubic face and squeezing the cheeks with a much for as his sword-strong hands could allot. "If you had any semblance of energy left," he said, tugging at said abused cheeks for emphasis, "you would have been shooing me out of this room half an hour ago. You need fuel; Toshiro. Your body is running on empty, has been for four days, and it's not bloody healthy."

The icy Captain blinked dazedly at the other. "Four days?" he repeated slowly. "What day is it?"

"Friday," Ichigo growled out with a scowl on his face. He leaned in close, still pinching Toshiro's cheeks in an attempt to further exemplify his next point. "And I don't have the heart to shag you when you can't bloody see straight."

2: Paste

For the longest time, Ichigo couldn't have defined what it was that kept them together. He supposed for a while it could have been pity, but years of devotion and strife outlasted that theory. He supposed then that it could have been luck, but everything about the two of them seemed to mesh so perfectly that luck couldn't be given that much credit. He'd been forced to admit that, in the end, the glue that held their relationship together was the fact that they fucking loved each other more than anything, and that was more than enough.

3: Itch

"God, Ichigo, stop it already," the petulant Captain tried to complain as his newly affirmed spouse nipped up a bare, alabaster leg. His cheeks were dusted with a fair blush, his upper body pressed into the plush bedding and mattress that their ski chalet had been equipped with.

"Why would I do that?" Ichigo drawled out with a sensuous lick to the speaker's ankle, sending a rise of goosebumps dancing up the pale skin. "This is so much fun."

"Because," Toshiro defended, pushing at Ichigo's face with the side of his foot playfully. "The lace on this bloody garter is itchy, and it's driving me crazy."

Ichigo smirked, kissing the ankle he'd been lavishing once more before looking pointedly at his partner. "You don't say? I wonder who came up with that idea."

4: Less

Ichigo groaned, kneading his forehead as he lay in bed. The morning after was never good when too much drinking was involved, and he'd more than drowned the point of "too much to drink" the night before. But more than the hangover that was splitting his head open, he was far more concerned with the other issue at hand.

"What's the matter, Ichigo?" Toshiro had asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed, having brought a glass of cool water and some headache medicine with him. He of the two had been the smartest; choosing to drink only a few saucers of sake before calling it a night, thus avoiding participating in all of the drunken antics that had transpired the night before.

Most notably, Ichigo punching Yumichika in the face for what was probably actually about to be a very lewd comment.

"I think I'm going to have to go apologize to Kenpachi," the red head whimpered, taking the glass of water and medicine and sitting up as slowly as possible to keep the room from spinning. "But if I go like this he'll beat my ass into next Friday."

Toshiro sighed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "You would have earned it, if it does come to that," he oh so unhelpfully supplied. "But something tells me he's probably not all that worried about Ayasegawa's black eye. He's probably proud of the man for actually getting into a fight for once."

Ichigo shrugged, still kneading his aching head as he sat. "Still, I should go and make a formal apology. It's good for Captains to do that kind of thing, right?"

Toshiro did nod to that. "Yes, you are quite right on that one. But, if it makes you feel any better, I'll accompany you to the 11th Division, just to make sure Kenpachi doesn't interfere with our arrangements for next Friday." Ichigo smiled at the comment, but Toshiro wasn't quite finished. "But only on one condition."

Ichigo looked at him curiously. "Oh?" he said. "And that is?"

"That you start drinking less. I find drunk people rather unattractive, even if they are my own spouse."

Toshiro dodged just in time the pillow that had been thrown at his head, ducking out of the room where said hung over spouse could not follow in any sort of speedy fashion.

5: Paranoia

"I just don't get it," Ichigo admitted to Matsumoto one day whilst waiting in the 10th Division office for Toshiro to return. He'd gone to a short meeting with Byakuya, and had insured that he would be back shortly. But, in that short time, Ichigo figured he might as well ask something of one of the people that knew Toshiro best. Or, rather, one of the remaining people that knew Toshiro best.

"What don't you get, Ichigo?" she'd asked him. He'd long ago let her forsake the need to call him by his actual title.

"Just this thing that Toshiro does," Ichigo continued, thrumming his fingers against the arm of the sofa he was currently occupying. "He always says he's sorry for things. It's like he's paranoid that he's done something wrong. He never does, but I can't seem to ever get him to feel like he hasn't."

Rangiku merely nodded, apparently understanding where Ichigo's observation was rooted. "I can tell you why he does that," she said, leaning back in her chair, perching her feet on her desk. Where, for once, she had actually been working. "He started doing that shortly after Momo left the 4th Division after Aizen tried to kill her. She would always come calling on him, asking him to save Aizen or any other number of things."

Ichigo blinked in amazement, his full attention on Toshiro's voluptuous Lieutenant. "You've gotta be kidding me," he barked. "How could she ask something like that of him when she knows the bastard attacked Toshiro too?"

Matsumoto just shook her head. "I don't know, Ichigo. I don't know what thoughts were going through her head at that point, but what I do know is that she didn't care how they affected other people. As long as they saved her Captain Aizen, it didn't matter how much it was hurting the people she was getting help from. But every time, when Toshiro would try to explain to her why he couldn't, or why he wouldn't, she wouldn't listen. She'd break out into hysteric fits, and he'd be left to blame." The ginger haired woman sighed. "That's what he thought, anyway. That's why he's always apologetic when he thinks he's said something wrong; he's so used to Momo's hysterics that he's paranoid he's going to make someone else react in the same way."

Ichigo swore to himself, trying to wipe an unhappy scowl off his face. "So I can understand your frustration, Ichigo," the older woman continued, and Ichigo looked back to her in order to keep himself from his own thoughts. "That's why I tried to start being a good friend to Momo; so that she could lean on someone else other than my Captain. She didn't know it, but she was tearing him apart."

Sighing then himself, Ichigo let his head roll back over his shoulders as he sighed. "What a mess," he said from his topsy-turvy position. "It's going to take more than a couple years of her being dead for him to get rid of that paranoia isn't it?"

Rangiku shrugged, taking her feet down and making to return to her short stack of work. "Maybe," she said, but then a smile lingered on her face. "But I can tell you one thing, Ichigo."

"What?"

"You loving him anyway is the best thing you could do to help him get over that paranoia."

"I think I can do that."

6: Sign

To be quite honest, the signs were rather hard to ignore. Ichigo could imagine that for Toshiro especially they were hard to ignore, but he knew that he himself had a hard time not paying attention to the subtle signs that Toshiro's body was giving out. It seemed that his skin would give off a healthy glow, his hair would shine in the sunlight like fresh powder atop a lonely mountain. He would seem to smile more, even if it meant getting one more dazzling smirk into his day.

But Ichigo had to admit that it also just could have been all in his head, because up until the second he got home from work on Fridays, there was only ever one thing on his mind, and it very well could have been augmenting his judgment.

7: Subtle

"I think that I would enjoy further opportunities to enjoy your company," was Toshiro's wordy, subtle way of saying, "I'd like to see more of you."

Ichigo kissing him goodbye was his own wordless, not-so-subtle way of saying, "Damn right you'll be seeing more of me."

8: There

Ichigo swore numerous times throughout his tumultuous life that he was going to die. He'd come to that conclusion many times through near-misses, where only strokes of luck or fortune had saved him. But this time, he had been outright convinced that he'd be lost to the great forever that was true death. The battle had razed everything in sight to the ground and beyond, decimating anything and anyone that got in the way.

He had been in the way when it all went black for him, and even his usually optimistic mind had admitted to the grim defeat that he was probably never going to rise again from this battle in particular.

But he'd been proven wrong, much to his great surprise, when he woke bleary-eyed some time later, cooped up in the 4th Division hospital. He'd taken his good old sweet time coming into consciousness, dull pain thrumming through his body underneath the haze of numbing kidou and medicine. He'd pulled his eyes open slowly, blinded for a long moment by the encompassing colors that made up the much nicer Captains' rooms designated in a quiet wing of the 4th. He'd sagely resisted the urge to sit up, instead letting his eyes do more wandering for him before he did anything so stupid.

When a flash of white caught his sullied attention, he couldn't help but feel his lagging heart thrill in his torn chest. There, sitting in a chair perched right next to his bed, sat Toshiro. His bare and narrow arms were wrapped around his bandaged chest, his chin sagging against his own shoulder as he slept doggedly in probably the most uncomfortable position possible. But there were shaggy shadows beneath his eyes, and there was still a fresh tear in his lip from the battle they'd both just barely survived.

But the complimentary fact remained that Toshiro, in spite of probably not having earned a clean bill of health, was there at his bedside, waiting for him. Heartened by the other man's faith in his recovery, Ichigo had reached out a stiff arm to brush his knuckles against a narrow leg. He hadn't intended to wake the other with the gesture; rather hoping that he could just affirm that this dream of life was not just that.

Unfortunately, much against his intent, Toshiro had stirred, his eyes dragging open from underneath lead-heavy eyelids. He'd glanced around blearily, probably much like Ichigo had, finally settling on the hand that still rested on his leg. His eyes shot over to Ichigo's face, relief dancing like sunlight through those now brightened blue eyes. But much to Ichigo's worry, the tire remained, even past that pleasure.

"Welcome back," Toshiro said, leaning forward stiffly and scooping Ichigo's hand into his own. He held Ichigo's hand to his chest, as if cherishing it. He kissed Ichigo's scraped knuckles gently, lacing their fingers together. Then his striking eyes returned to his partner, a ragged smile pealing at his poor torn lips. "I knew you'd make it."

Ichigo brushed his thumb across Toshiro's cool hand, his heart thundering strangely in his throat. "I thought I was a goner," he admitted, looking at his saddened spouse apologetically. His voice was harsh and coarse, and he could now feel the stiffness of more bandaging striking up against his neck. "I didn't know if I was going to make it back." He looked at Toshiro, his grip tightening as much as his weathered body could allow. A tear brimmed at his eye, and he bit in a shaky breath. "But you waited there for me."

Toshiro's smile remained, and he leaned forward, kissing Ichigo as softly as the landing of a feather on his tarnished skin on his brow. "Of course I waited," he said, attempting to settle himself back into his chair. But Ichigo's other hand tucked up, cupping Toshiro's neck and keeping him bent over his bed-ridden partner.

"Come here," he said quietly, watching the face mere inches from his own. He could feel the muscles in Toshiro's back quaking from the effort of staying half-standing, and guilt thrummed through him at the thought of having to selfishly pinned the other to him. Especially considering the other was probably quite injured himself.

But Toshiro consented, sitting himself down on the edge of the wide bed. Ichigo pulled his torso down gently, trying to coax him to just come and lay down as he had on so many Sunday mornings before. Toshiro caught the drift, as he always had, and, with some difficulty, slung his narrow legs up onto the bed and settled himself as comfortably as possible against Ichigo's side. Toshiro's head lay heavily against his shoulder, and he bent his neck down, curling to kiss at Toshiro's now very close face. Slowly, he hedged towards the torn lip the other was sporting, before gently bestowing a ginger kiss to it.

"I'll always be there for you, Ichigo," Toshiro said against his lips just as they'd barely separated from the careful gesture. Ichigo's hand pressed against Toshiro's hip, turning them just that little bit extra so that they were lying on their sides, pressed face to face. One of the snowy haired Captain's arms instinctively trailed over Ichigo's side, his other arm curling beneath his head for support. "Regardless of what may happen."

Again, Ichigo's words caught in a shaky breath before he could speak. "I know, babe," he said, his arms embracing gently yet possessively around the other man's narrow frame. "I just worry about how well I'm able to be there for you."

9: Grain

Going against the grain had been something Ichigo had made a habit of doing in his life. He did it naturally, most of the time, but sometimes chose to be froward just to make things more interesting if only for himself. However, he had learned the hard way that there was one person's personal grain that he did not rub against.

Ironically, it was his spouse's.

But the reason as to why he didn't rub against that grain was because he was continually petrified of the other going away because of it. And as much as he would be loathe to admit it, the idea of Toshiro being anywhere but at his side scared the holy living daylights out of him. So, he went along with Toshiro's personal grain most of the time, and was, most of the time, rewarded quite royally for doing so.

10: Outrageous

"Hey, I've got an outrageous idea."

Toshiro rolled his eyes, flicking his book closed. "Kurosaki, your ideas are always outrageous," he said, before finally giving into the bait the other had been trying to tantalize him with. "But, regardless of that fact, what is your outrageous idea?"

"How about I take you out to the nicest restaurant in town for dinner? I'll buy," he said, smirking at Toshiro's unamused expression. It was one of his cutest, if anyone ever cared to ask Ichigo's opinion. "What do you say?"

"I'd say that is an outrageous idea," Toshiro affirmed, nearly turning back to his book. "Why on earth would you want to do such a thing anyway?"

Ichigo strode over to where the other was sitting on his couch, pulling the other up by his bicep to stand next to him. "Because," he said, a wide smile on his lips, "I'm asking you out on a date."

Toshiro's outrageous blush was well worth the previous criticism.

-I wrote these in less than a day, I think. Just over twelve hours, which is pretty impressive considering I did sleep during some of those twelve hours. Not too bad, I don't think. I really enjoyed these drabbles, as made apparent by the fact that I wrote them so quickly. Thanks to SillyWQ for giving me these prompts; I hope you liked them, dear! Anyway, I'm still taking prompt donations, so feel free to give me some if you have any in mind.

8-90s love,

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