Lots of cute, cuddly fluff with a dash of humor and a tiny, tiny sprinkling of angst.

My first Bleach fanfic, and it's a het pairing. O.o? I dunno what's been up with me and het lately….O.O It boggles the mind, me writing het…

PAIRINGS: Matsu/Hitsu

SUMMARY: A drunken Matsumoto comforts a delirious, wounded Hitsugaya and unwittingly learns something that will change their relationship forever.

WARNINGS: Sake. Lots and lots of sake. (Errm…at least, on Matsumoto's part)

SPOILER: End of Soul Society Arc. Set after Aizen nearly kills Hinamori and Hitsugaya. Anou…some facts most likely aren't all that straight cuz I've yet to see the end myself, and if it's completely outta whack, then it diverges from the plot. There, I've covered my arse, now I don't wanna hear any complaints of "But that's not how it happened!"

DISCLAIMER: Very simple; I do not own Bleach, and I'm making no money off of this.

NOTES

Our much-adored, cute, grumpy little Snowball (aka Hitsu-chan) is way OOC here, but I tried to make it seem reasonable/ logical. If your best friend you've grown up with and known nearly all your life, or afterlife, as the case may be, suddenly tried to come after you (yes, I know Hitsugaya knows Hinamori's not in her right mind, but it would still hurt emotionally! At least in this story it does.) with a sword, and you were badly wounded and were delirious with fever, you'd probably act different, too!

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SAKE LULLABY

By Neko Oni

Matsumoto frowned at the little, empty sake jug. She'd long abandoned the even tinier cup; it was much easier to drink straight from the bottle. She figured that out on her third jug and she currently was finishing off her seventh. Sake was wonderful; it was strong and potent, helping her forget the stress and all the crap causing stress. Except when the sake ran dry. Then it sucked.

She turned the jug upside down, shaking it; not a drop spilled out. She put it to her lips, sticking her tongue in it. Nada. Scowling, she carelessly dropped the bottle, letting it fall on its side and nicking her taichou's desk.

Her taichou. Hitsugaya. He should've been here, at his desk busy with the usual enormous amounts of paperwork. But his desk, like his office, was empty. No captain. No paperwork. Well, technically, there were mountains of paperwork, but Matsumoto had misplaced them. And not on purpose this time.

Hitsugaya lay badly wounded, unconscious, in fourth division's barracks. He would fully recover; that wasn't the problem. The problem was..well, everything!

After the whole Aizen fiasco, when the rest of the shinigami were patching things up and moving on, her world crumbled around her. She didn't know where to start with all the messes in her life. Okay, she knew where to start- the bottom of a sake bottle. Or two or three. Unfortunately, they held no answers for her.

First off was Gin. The boy she'd grown up with, all the centuries she'd been friends with that man, and he betrayed her. He hadn't tried to kill her like Aizen did to Hinamori, but that only made it more painful. He still cared for her, a close friend, yet he could walk away. When you don't care for someone, it's easy to use them, abandon them. They mean nothing to you. But a friend you've shared a better part of your life- and heart- with…how cold do you have to be to turn your back on them?

Ichimaru was just the tip of the iceberg. The rest was her icy captain. Her poor taichou, whose heart was more torn than his body. She didn't know what was going on in her taichou's pretty little head. All she knew was he was hurting, and not in the physical sense. She knew he and Hinamori had been grown up together, and were close as siblings. Best friends. Like her and Gin had been. And Hinamori had torn that friendship apart, hurting Hitsugaya. For that, Matsumoto wondered if she could ever forgive the girl.

Matsumoto glared at the several empty sake jugs scattered on the desk. It looked a lot bigger without tons of papers on it. Then again, that could just be the alcohol talking. She hiccupped and ran a hand through her hair. No, she wasn't that drunk. She could hold her liquor well and had built up a high tolerance. Very, very high. So she was only slightly buzzed, not gonna-be-hung-over, thoroughly trashed thank you very much.

Still, the office was quiet. Too quiet. And big. Buzzed, sober, or sloshed, she didn't want to be in here anymore. Especially if more paperwork going to be delivered. Normally, she hated paperwork and would do nearly anything to avoid it, but her captain usually groused and nagged and harped until she half heartedly pecked at it to get him off her back. But now…she'd tried. Honestly. But she couldn't focus on anything other than her poor taichou.

He needed her. So she'd go to him. Nodding to herself, Matsumoto stood up, swaying slightly, and made her way to fourth division. She hiccupped, bumped into the wall next to the door, and fumbled sliding it open. Yes, she didn't want to be here. She wanted to see her cute little taichou. So, she would. As soon as she either remembered or found where fourth division was.

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Hitsugaya lay still under the blankets. His usually spiky hair was damp and limp from sweat, which beaded on his clammy, pale flesh. His soft skin nearly matched the sheets in whiteness. His dark lashes clenched tightly, hiding turquoise orbs. His face was scrunched up, lips pursed together. Every so often, his head would shake, he'd groan, and his tense body would twitch. He'd been like that for days, trapped in a world of feverish nightmares.

He hadn't yet woken up; no change. Matsumoto frowned as she settled herself by his bed. He moaned, head jerking to the side. Her worry deepened. She laid a cool hand on his forehead, wiping back sweaty locks. It might have been her imagination, but the busty fukutaichou could've sworn his eyebrows unfurrowed slightly at her tender touch. She dared not hope.

He moaned, head lolling to the side. Her hand trailed down his soft cheek. His lips loosened. She paused, staring down at her hand on his face. Could it really be? She ran her thumb just under his lower lip. His lips eased into a thin line instead of a twisted scowl. She stroked his cheek and forehead, soothing away the tenseness until his sweet face was only slightly pained.

Matsumoto pulled her hand away to push her own hair out of her face. Immediately, Hitsugaya's cheek twitched, frown returning. Matsumoto smiled. "Toushiro-taichou." His muscles relaxed under her touch. She stroked his face and neck for a while, soothing the injured young captain, hiccupping occasionally. Hitsugaya stopped twitching; he looked like he was finally getting the actual rest his wounded body so desperately needed.

She smiled softly. This wasn't a big improvement, no miracle. He was still unconscious and delirious. But he was resting peacefully, looking so fragile and child-like. Under her touch. That made her happy as she ran her fingers through his damp hair.

Her face scrunched though when her muscles started to cramp. She shifted, but each new position was comfortable for a short amount of time. With a hiccup, she looked about the small room. It was dim and plain, creating a dower atmosphere. She turned cornflower blue eyes back to her tiny taichou. He resembled a little ghost more than the fiery boy she knew.

He was too pale, the room too dreary. And too close to Hinamori's. Matsumoto had accidentally wandered into the other girl's room when she was looking for Hitsugaya's and couldn't remember which one his was, even though she'd been to see him every day. But the memory lapse had nothing to do with all the sake she'd drunk. Really.

Matsumoto's scowl was interrupted by a hiccup. Hitsugaya needed sunlight and fresh air. So, she pulled the blankets back. She never realized how thin he was under his captain's uniform. His muscles were lean and toned on his small frame. He wore a thin white yukata, which was loosely tied about his slender form. His chest and shoulder were heavily bandaged, injured appendage not in the yukata sleeve.

She placed one arm under the back of his neck, supporting his head, the other under his knees, and scooped him up. He wasn't very heavy; she carried him easily. He moaned at the movement as his body was shifted, face contorted in pain. Standing upright, she cradled him to her, his head resting on one gigantic breast. His cool cheek pressed against the warm, soft mound and he calmed as her arms pressed him close.

Matsumoto carried her taichou outside. The sun warmed them, the sky was blue, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of fresh grass and flowers. She sat down under the leafy boughs of a huge, ancient tree. Hitsugaya loved this tree- he always climbed to the tippy top branches when he was troubled or contemplative. She settled her unconscious captain in her lap, her bountiful bosom serving as his pillow. She couldn't say she minded.

During the long walk, the chibi taichou began to fidget in her arms, inner turmoil returning. Now seated, Matsumoto stroked his adorable face again, but his tenseness returned. She bounced him as one would a small child. He trembled, body twitching against her.

She grew worried. Maybe this had been a bad idea- what if she'd accidentally torn open his wounds? She cringed at the thought. Hitsugaya moaned, one small hand fisting in the black cloth of her uniform top, jerking on it. "Shiro-chan." The words tumbled from her lips without thought. She often called him that, mostly to rile him, and he'd yell at her, 'It's Hitsugaya-taichou!'.

But today, he didn't. Instead, he flinched, trying to curl up on himself. "Hinamori…" He mumbled, and Matsumoto's heart clenched. He was delirious with fever and thought she was his long time friend and betrayer. "It hurts…" His voice was slurred, thick with unshed tears. "

TBC…

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Yes, evil cliffy. But it makes the next chappie so much more enjoyable, I promise. As long as you promise to review, that is.