His lieutenant's only reaction to his shout was to smile and turn away from him. He had walked into her office and found her sprawled out on a couch, napping peacefully, the stack of unfinished paperwork standing proudly on her desk, a testament to her uncanny talent for slacking off. Hitsugaya picked up an empty sake bottle and dropped it in the trash before returning to her side, sitting down next to her on the couch, putting a hand on her shoulder and gently pulling her flat. She wouldn't be doing any paperwork anytime soon.

But then, this meant he had caught her when she was fast asleep. No chance of him waking her up. Taking a deep breath and making sure no-one was around, he reached a hand out.

Contrary to popular taunts, he had hit puberty just as he was given the captain's position, knew all about men and women (certainly more then those morons from 11th squad who loved to make fun of him) and was, in fact, completely infatuated with his beautiful, full-chested lieutenant.

He carefully ran his fingers through her hair, moving it away so it didn't obstruct his view of her face.

It was her fault, after all. He had told her, time and again, to pull her kimono shut when they were working, to stop hugging him (at least in ways that didn't involve his face being crammed between those wonderful breasts of hers) and to address him with the proper rank, or at least the right honorifics.

The fingers traced the outline of her jaw and trailed down her neck, picking out the threads of surprisingly tough muscle underneath perfectly smooth skin.

But he had gotten used to it. He even started to like it. And then, one day, a part of his brain had just clicked on and demanded that he reach out and grab the things she kept waving in his face. He ignored it, of course, and had considered dismissing her from the 10th squad entirely when it started to become a distraction. But she had kept her rank, and it had nothing to do with her appearance. She kept herself in top form, she was completely trustworthy and reliable (for anything besides paperwork, which he secretly hated as well) and when he gave her an order, she got it done. So he ignored the voices and the urges, and tried to think of her strictly as his very able lieutenant, focusing on the fact that it would be an incredible chore to find someone to replace her, and nothing more.

Cool fingers traced her collarbone, back and forth, gliding back behind her neck, dipping to feel the muscles in her shoulders. Returning to her chest, the fingers beginning to trail lower, pausing, returning upwards, a palm flattening against her cheek, his thumb brushing her lips.

He wasn't even sure if she would be interested if him, with the age difference. Not to mention the fact she was his subordinate, after all. There were enough offensive rumors floating around about her, about how she got her rank or why a captain like him insisted on keeping around someone like her.

Once again, the hand went lower, his thumb catching on her collarbone and refusing to go any further, his palm flat on her skin, fingers tensing and rubbing gently. Matsumoto shivered slightly, and he jerked his hand away.

He'd be damned if he ever said he didn't want to explore the rest of her properly, thoroughly, but not like this. Not taking advantage of her when she was in a sake-induced slumber. He would never allow himself to go that far. Just these few, precious, maddening stolen moments, opportunities he just couldn't ignore, and something he regretted doing enough as it was.

So he stood and walked mechanically to her desk, sitting heavily in her chair. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair, a long, slow, shuddering sigh sounding throughout the room.

He reached for the first piece of paper, and with one last, longing look, picked up a pen and set to work. He owed her this much for what he'd taken to doing recently.

And once he was completely engrossed in numbers and figures and pages of useless ramblings, focusing on nothing but the scratching of quill on paper, Hitsugaya Toushiro never noticed his obsession open one eye to peek at him. He only looked up a moment later when she shifted, turning towards him in the feigned motions of sleep, offering him a better view while he did her paperwork.

He drank in the sight, and wished things weren't so damn complicated.