Um. RANHITSU IS MY OTP. Huh? XD Hope you enjoy!
He's tired, and all he wants to do is fall into bed and sleep the rest of his life away. That's not really so much to ask, is it?
Sure, Hitsugaya Toushirou doesn't like to admit he has the same biological makeup as everyone else that requires him to sleep at least seven hours a night--he knows it's seven because he's experiemented. Anything less than that and he sees hallucinations for the rest of the day, not to mention he can barely walk in a straight line.
This, of course, is unacceptable for the Captain of the 10th Division.
So. He needs sleep, and he needs it now, before he makes an ass of himself. He's maxed out his allotted awake time--that nobody knows about. He keeps it secret.
Hitsugaya Toushirou is supposed to be a child genius, remember. He has a reputation, and maybe it makes him a snob, but he's finnicky about upholding it. Let them think he's superboy--because he sure as hell isn't superman. Not yet, at least. Though he doesn't really want that kind of image, truth be told.
Even if it is badass.
But Hitsugaya isn't a badass. He's more of a hardass. Matsumoto affectionately referred to him as "anal-retentive" before; he made her file all of his paperwork in alphabetical order while he hovered behind her and watched like a hawk.
She hasn't called him anal anything since then.
Speaking of which...
"Where is she?"
His buxom dingbat of a lieutenant wandered off a few hours ago. Which means he's lost track of her.
And that's a definite detriment to his agenda.
He can't possibly sleep if he knows she's on the loose somewhere, wreaking havoc on unsuspecting victims.
She doesn't do it on purpose, though, which is the scary thing. Matsumoto Rangiku isn't quite an airhead, but she's close enough to fondle the line--when she's drunk. Sober, she's actually intelligent, and Hitsugaya likes that. He can depend on her. They work well together.
Yet, again, that issue of sobriety is a deciding factor in the teamwork department.
"Damn it," he growls, massaging his temples as his feet automatically take him in the opposite direction of his room.
Call it intuition, but something tells him that she's trashed.
He's her captain. He has an obligation to find her and make certain she isn't...exposing herself. Because there's a lot of her to expose. And she's touchy-feely when she's sloshed.
"Why did I let her out of my sight?" Stupid. Really, really stupid.
His hands fall to his sides, and he stares sharply ahead.
She's running, her breasts bobbing up and down, threatening to spill right out of her--
They've popped out to say hello.
Hitsugaya thinks he might faint. It's an idle thought, naturally, since he's Hitsugaya, and Hitsugaya doesn't faint. Ever.
But this is the first time he's seen naked breasts, and it is an overwhelming experience, particularly when they're as big as Matsumoto's. The girl's got a chest.
And that should not make any difference to him. At all.
So why it does is vexing.
It's the other teenage morons who gape at boobs like they're edible, not him.
She's running, he's staring, and the world is about to come to an apocalyptic end.
He. Is. Staring.
"Matsu--" He tries to restore some semblance of order to the chaos, but she flings herself at him before he finishes and buries her face in the crook of his neck.
"Mmmmmmm...Taichouuuuu...you always smell so good..." Rangiku's voice is lethargic, as if she's been reprogrammed to slow-motion, though itmanages to sound sensual at the same time.
He stands still, blood frozen in his veins.
Her chest is pressed against his, and he feels it through the thin fabric that covers him.
He tries again.
The closeness is beginning to mess with him, and it has to stop soon, or he's cooked.
Resting his hands on her shoulders, he gently pries her away, eyes locked on her face. She blinks as she stares back at him, and the only word that comes to mind to describe her then is adorable.
There are strict rules among captains and lieutenants against fraternization in Soul Society, and if his thoughts start traveling down that road, it's all over. In more ways than one.
And it scares the shit out of him.
"Cover yourself," he orders, tone much harsher than he intends. He regrets it instantly because she's looking at him like he slapped her.
Matsumoto has two distinct 'drunk' personalities. One is overly sensitive and the other is a space cadet.
Apparently, tonight's is sensitive.
With some difficulty, she tucks her breasts back in, though the effort does not diminish her cleavage. "Do I repulse you?" She asks suddenly, gaze intent.
Caught of guard, he opens and closes his mouth, unable to speak.
She persists. "It's because I'm ugly, isn't it? You think I'm ugly."
Her eyes are downcast. "Nothing I do phases you. Nothing." She laughs, and it's bitter. "Other men fall all over me, you know. But not you." Her lower lip trembles. "You don't want me."
She's drunk, Toushirou. Drunk. Play along. Get her in bed. Now.
"I never said that," he replies quietly, steering her to the right. "You're not ugly."
"Yes I am."
"No, you're not." They take another turn, this time to the left.
"Then why don't you want me?"
He bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood, opens the door.
"I never said that, either."
It isn't above a whisper, but she hears him anyway.
He leads her to the middle of the room, where the bed is--his bed.
"Go to sleep, Matsumoto," he commands gruffly.
"But this is--"
"Don't worry about it."
He's tired, and he doesn't care where he sleeps, as long as the surface is flat.
So she sleeps in his bed, and he sleeps on the floor, because he's her captain, and it's the honorable thing to do.