-I'm going to work to get as many drabbles done by the end of this week as I can, because next week I'm going to be preoccupied with my final exams, and I'm going to be writing all of my friends' and family's Christmas presents next week, so I'm going to have to excuse myself for that week. But! Thankfully one of those writing gifts is a set of IchiHitsu Christmas drabbles. So, now I just have to finish up all the sets I have waiting before then. Which, after this drabble is still like… four sets of drabbles. x I have a lot of work to do between now and Sunday. Again, please wait on the donations; I really need to get to that Christmas set of drabbles for my friend, and I can't do that until I finish the drabbles I already have pending. Alright, this is actually a drabble donated by a personal friend of mine, Inidgo Pheonix. She told me to do something obscure with it, and most of this drabble comes from a very odd conversation we had on her dorm's common room couch. So, if it's a total non sequitur, it's meant to be that way.

1: Beautiful

"Hear my words that I might teach you, Take my arms that I might reach you, But my words like silent raindrops fell, And echoed, In the wells of silence."

Why on earth he was singing in the shower was beyond him at the time. He'd always assumed that it was just what people did in the sanctions of their own home. He'd never been enticed into doing it before, mostly because he'd always had a home or apartment close to where others lived. And, most notably, where others could hear him singing in the shower should he choose to do so. But his house with Ichigo was no such case, and thus for the first time in probably ever, Toshiro was singing in the shower without needing to fear anyone else hearing him.

Emphasis on was, until he realized he did in fact have an audience.

"You," a husky voice had said from right over his bloody shoulder, "are bloody a liar."

And had not said audience already had a pair of muscular arms wrapped around his moistened waist, Toshiro probably would have jumped through the roof at that point. But the arms kept him rooted in place, even as his heart jumped through his throat, nearly popping out from between his teeth along with the strangled gasp that managed to.

"I-Ichigo," he stuttered, inherently embarrassed. He hadn't been expecting his husband to return to the house for some time, considering he'd had a Squad Meeting to conduct. But, as it seemed, his business with this squad had finished early, as made blatantly clear by the fact that he was standing with Toshiro in their large, walk-in shower, very much naked. "I didn't think you'd be finished so soon," he continued, trying to cover up his foible.

He was far from succeeding, as made obvious by Ichigo's hands proceeding to hold onto his hips to prevent him from stepping away. "I told you I wouldn't be very long," he murmured against Toshiro's bare shoulder. "Didn't think you'd jump into the shower without me, though. I thought we had a Saturday morning tradition."

Toshiro rolled his eyes, huffing at the feel of a smirk pressed against the kiss planted on his shoulder. "It's your fault for breaking the tradition first, you idiot," he growled. "You usually never schedule meetings on Saturday mornings."

Ichigo chuckled against his shoulder, his hot breath washing against Toshiro's wet skin. "Fair enough," he said. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're a liar. A beautiful liar, but a liar nonetheless."

Toshiro scowled over his shoulder at his husband, pushing Ichigo's face off his shoulder so he could actually face his assailant. "What the hell are you blabbering about?" he growled, his hands on his hips as Ichigo straightened with a triumphant smirk on his lips.

"You told me you couldn't sing, Toshiro," Ichigo said, crossing his arms over his pectorals and looking at Toshiro just as accusingly. "In fact you told me like you sounded like a "bloody screech owl" if I remember correctly." Toshiro was blushing by that point, but was doing his damndest to hide it. Ichigo's widened smile told him that he was not succeeding. But the red-head obviously wasn't going to say anything more; expecting an explanation from his diminutive partner.

Toshiro looked away, still trying to mask his spreading blush. He could feel it begin to wash off his cheeks and pour down onto his collarbones. No one had heard him sing, not since his Grandmother, not even Momo. That was probably why he was so bashful about it; because he'd always assumed at the time that his grandmother would compliment him no matter how bad he sounded, and that she'd gushed over him because that's what she always did. Having someone else affirm her genuine like of his singing was what made it twice as worrying.

"I honestly didn't think I sounded that good," he said quickly, trying to dodge the impending compliment while he still could.

But Ichigo would have none of it, and he should have guessed as much. The taller man strode forward, scooping Toshiro's narrow shoulders in one arm and leaning down to kiss at his wrinkled forehead. "You gotta be kidding me," he said against the dampened white hair. "I thought an angel straight from the choirs of heaven had taken up residence in my house." He felt Ichigo smile against his head. "But maybe that's not such an unrealistic description, eh?"

Toshiro just rolled his eyes, sighing at the other. "You're incorrigible," he grumbled.

"Nonetheless," Ichigo conceded with a chuckle as he reached behind Toshiro to retrieve something, "I can't imagine where you learned to belt like that. You've got the pitch to beat the band, but I never would have thought such a big sound could come from little old you."

"Little old me?" Toshiro quoted, looking up with a rather unamused look. Ichigo caught onto his improper wording just in time, chuckling nervously this time as he looked down apologetically at Toshiro.

"You know that's not how I meant it," he said, trying to curry the man's favor before it froze the water they were both showering in. Toshiro would walk away unscathed, but Ichigo wouldn't be without some severe frostbite issues. "I just meant that you're so quiet and soft spoken most of the time. It was nice to be able to hear you just cut loose. Especially because that song is usually so quiet; it was really cool to hear you put your heart into it."

Toshiro had to admit, that did calm him down. "Fine," he conceded, before yelping as something cold and thick dribbled onto his head. Ichigo was smiling warmly at him, before he re-capped the shampoo bottle, returning it to its shelf. "What the hell are you doing?" the smaller man barked, rather unamused by the sudden intrusion of hygiene into their conversation. Which was rather ironic, when thought about, because they were in the shower, where hygienic things often took place.

"Doing what I always do on Saturday mornings," Ichigo said, digging his fingers into the dampened hair and promptly scrubbing the crap out of every inch of scalp he could get his fingers to, with all of the playful fervor that he usually showed.

"You mean scalp me?" Toshiro said, laughing as he tried to wriggle away from Ichigo's jostling hands. He squinted up at his orange haired husband, trying to avoid getting any soap in his eyes. "What's with you and washing my hair, anyway?"

Apparently done slathering every strand of his now very mussed hair into a fine lather, Ichigo gave his smaller spouse's hair one more good ruffle before smiling down at him. "Because," he said, pushing Toshiro back under the rain-like spray of their showerhead. "Your hair is the best damn thing since ever, and I love it."

Toshiro laughed, scooping some of the remaining lather off his head and ruffling it into Ichigo's fiery hair. "What about yours, then? Don't think I'll let you get away with not washing it, you dirty brute," he teased.

In spite of the teasing, Ichigo seemed to be beside himself with pleasure. "You want to wash my hair?" he asked, as if it were the most pivotal decision in the world.

"Sure," Toshiro said, tugging the taller man down to his level by his bangs as his free hand grabbed the shampoo bottle. "Why the hell not."

He then promptly returned the favor of Ichigo's almost maniacal scalp scrubbing. Ichigo started laughing halfway through, and somehow they both ended up throwing soap suds at each other and laughing until tears streamed down their faces like the cold water they were both now bathing in. When at last they'd both actually stopped fooling around for long enough to actually get clean, they turned off the frigid water and exited the shower after what was probably an exorbitant amount of time.

Snatching one of the large bath towels off the rung that they kept them on, Toshiro buffed himself dry, wrapping the plush piece of cloth around his shoulders and breathing in the smell of the soap they used to wash them. He felt Ichigo buff the edge of his own towel against his head gently, and looked up to his smiling husband to see him already halfway dressed into his shihakusho pants.

"Come on," he said through a laugh. "We have to get something done today." He walked out of the bathroom, leaving the top of his shihakusho behind. Toshiro rolled his eyes, knowing that the shirt was better to walk around the house in than only a towel. Tossing his towel on the countertop, he took the hint and slung the overtly large shirt over his shoulders, keeping an arm wrapped around his waist to keep the front folds together as his free hand picked his towel back up.

What he was greeted with out in the hallway nearly made him keel over with laughter. Ichigo, who hadn't exited long before him, was jiving down their hallway, his long legs swinging him side to side as he sang in his own, well toned voice:

"I used to think maybe you loved me, Now baby I'm sure, And I'm walkin' on sunshine, Oh, I'm walking on sunshine, And don't it feel good!"

His shoulders swung back and forth in time to his hip schwiggle, every well defined muscle on his back molding together as he went. Toshiro couldn't help his laughter, but was enjoying their silliness all the same. Moments like these were rare; when they just shared nonsensical, platonic moments together for the sake of being able to. He followed after his spouse, a spring in his step as he returned to their bedroom to get into some of his own clothing.

But when a firm hand got a fistful of his ass the second he walked in the door, every thought he had regarding "platonic moments" was forced aside.

-This is probably one of the most silly, random, crazy ass drabbles I think I've ever written. Indigo, you told me to go crazy on it, and I did. I hope this pleases you; I was smiling the entire time I was writing it. In fact, I'm still smiling now. This little drabble is actually pretty much a good summary of how my day ended: wonderfully. Today seriously was a shit show, but it ended out with this happy little drabble. Blah, blah, sappy stuff, blah. Now, off to do more drabbles before the end of this week smacks me in the face… or before my Japanese oral exam does. Either way. Hopefully I will post another set tomorrow. Again, still don't want any more prompts just yet; I need to finish the ones I have. I will let you know when I want more!

8-90s love,

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