Genesis
Title: Genesis
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Ichigo/Toshiro
Rating: Very light T
Warnings: None
Summary: "I was just wondering - you know - like, how did we meet?"
Notes: Domestic. Pillow talk. Fluff. Enough said.
A toothbrush wasn't a conventional prompt for an epiphany. Ichigo realised this, but he still found himself staring artlessly at the wiggling bottom of his boyfriend as it disappeared back into the en-suite bathroom, Toshiro mumbling around their electric toothbrush something that he should no doubt be listening to. A minute later Toshiro wandered back into the bedroom, clad solely in a t-shirt and boxers and apparently comfortable with it, and Ichigo was struck by how domestic the scene was. Heedless to the spell of realisation dawning across the other side of the room, the half-dressed white haired young male continued flowing through his pre-bed (and potentially pre-sex) routine, until he finally slipped under the duvet beside his partner, his pale nose already stuck into his current favourite novel.
A page turned before Ichigo's silence was questioned.
"Can I help you with something?" Toshiro glanced down briefly, momentarily appraising the expression on his boyfriend's face; a red-faced surprise - Ichigo had thought the novel had sufficiently sucked Toshiro into a different world, and so his blatant fixation had been unnoticed. It seemed it hadn't - he really should give Toshiro's perception more credit.
"What're you reading?"
Toshiro wasn't one for mindless chatter, but he complied and showed Ichigo the front of the book - maybe he'd realised the question was just a diversion, and Ichigo mused that he probably had. "I'm getting to the good part," said Toshiro flatly - only the best of books could make his tone waver. "Or the climax, I suppose - Slaughter always puts lots of action in her novels."
"I don't know how you can read crime fiction before bed," Ichigo grumbled, shifting so that he was gazing up at the ceiling.
Sounding amused, Toshiro replied, "Would you rather I read 'The Boy in the Striped Pajamas' again?"
"No - God no." There had actually been tears with that book. While they'd been together for a few years at that point, they'd only been living together for a few weeks, and Ichigo hadn't been expecting - when he returned from lectures that afternoon - to sit locked out of the bathroom for the best part of forty minutes as his distraught boyfriend drowned himself in the bath. "You're never touching that again."
"You're over-reacting."
"Toshiro, you were so upset you let me run you a bubble bath."
Toshiro smacked lightly him on the shoulder. Ichigo responded by grabbing his ankle and sliding him down the bed so that he disappeared under the duvet. Toshiro squawked in outrage. Laughing, Ichigo shimmed himself down and leaned across his partner, tilting the book plastered across his face up to reveal the icy scowl.
"You're so easy to man-handle," he said. Toshiro snatched the novel and clobbered him around the head.
"Child-abuse, child-abuse!" Ichigo shouted, catapulting back up the bed to escape.
Toshiro threw the duvet at him as he untangled himself, sitting back on his knees and wielding the novel like a sword. "Child-abuse?" he echoed, scandalous. "You're twenty-three!"
"Wow am I really?" asked Ichigo, chuckling when his boyfriend leveled him with a glare. He held his hands up in surrender, and Toshiro, crawling over awkwardly, put the book on their bedside table, looking remarkably tempted to continue knocking some sense into him with it. "Have we really been together for that long?" the ginger prompted as they settled back down.
A sigh - he wasn't sure how to interpret it. "Four years isn't that long."
It was Ichigo's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Four years is ages. I'll be having my mid-life crisis soon."
"I had mine when I started dating you," Toshiro muttered despairingly.
"That explains the hair," Ichigo quipped.
Toshiro's lips quirked up into a smile. "You're a moron," he said softly, rolling onto his side so that he was facing away from Ichigo. Deciding that going to sleep was a good idea, Ichigo laid down behind him, and they shuffled for a few moments until they were comfortable, Ichigo half-draped over his lover's smaller form. "Are you going to turn the light off?" Toshiro deadpanned.
"Huh - oh." Ichigo clapped once and the room went dark. He was incredibly grateful for that ingenious piece of technology - he always forgot to switch the lights. The fact that he now didn't have to move from the bed to do so didn't exactly help rectify that, but at least it was good for something. "Sorry."
Toshiro said nothing - he was so quiet that Ichigo thought he'd already fallen asleep until, just a couple of minutes later, he whispered, "Are you going to tell me what you were thinking about earlier?" into the darkness between them. Ichigo frowned, his brain ticking. How early was 'earlier'? Toshiro sighed again and mumbled something under his breath (probably 'idiot'), and shifted so that they were facing each other. Resisting the urge to kiss him on the nose, Ichigo waited for an explanation to arise - 'vague' wasn't Toshiro's usual forte.
"You were staring into space when I was in the bathroom," Toshiro began, voice rich but gentle - the reason for such highlighted in his next sentence. "The last time you had that expression on your face you told me about your mother's death. Is there something you need to ask?"
Ichigo understood now, and he smiled, much to the other's surprise. "Nah, it's nothing like that," he reassured, brushing some of Toshiro's hair. "I was just wondering - you know - like, how did we meet? I know it was in my first year cause we started dating in my second, right? But you were doing Maths while I'm doing Medicine, and we weren't in the same college."
"I suppose that's why people were adamant that our relationship wasn't going to work," Toshiro muttered.
Ichigo clicked his tongue at the reminder. "Screw them. We made it work - I spent an abysmal amount of money on Costa after we met. And pizza - "
"- And those God-awful pop tarts you like so much -"
"- Hey! Don't diss the pop tarts. Friday night was our night, and I was allowed to eat whatever I want." He stuck out his tongue and Toshiro glared at him.
"You could have chosen something less disgusting though - "
They had argued over pop tarts many times before, and they never reached an agreement. This was unusual in their relationship ("We're a democratic." "There's two of us.") but since neither of them were likely to walk out over such a topic of disagreement, it had almost become a battle of wills between them.
"Well," Ichigo cut in, mock-pouting. "I could have chosen you - "
"That was Saturday - "
"Oh my god, do you remember Sex-Saturday? Ahh, we don't have that anymore."
"That's because we live together."
"Sex-Everyday," Ichigo laughed, and then he couldn't stop. Burying his scarlet face into his pillow didn't help - all that achieved was tear-stained fabric and the muffling of Toshiro's own laughter. The happy vibrations just spilled out of his mouth, and even though he tried to tell him that it wasn't that funny, every time he tried to stop Toshiro's quiet giggles set him off again. "I amaze myself sometimes," he gasped eventually, peering out from beneath the pillow.
Toshiro's eyes were bright and playful. "Your periods of ingenuity obviously aren't as frequent as mine."
"Oi." Ichigo shoved him. "What am I? Chopped liver?"
"You're a medical student, don't make that joke."
"Jesus - "
They continued bantering for another half an hour. Their laughter was occasionally interrupted by kissing or the odd more intimate touch, and by midnight their mouths and hands were thoroughly worn out. Toshiro ended up rolling back over so that Ichigo could hold him from behind, and with a last few fleeting whispers and tired chuckles, they went to sleep. Ichigo still didn't know the answer to his question, but by that point it'd become irrelevant; he'd decided he didn't need to know how they'd met, for they'd done so, stuck together like super glue, and that wasn't something incredibly difficult to pull apart.
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Ichigo/Toshiro
Rating: Very light T
Warnings: None
Summary: "I was just wondering - you know - like, how did we meet?"
Notes: Domestic. Pillow talk. Fluff. Enough said.
A toothbrush wasn't a conventional prompt for an epiphany. Ichigo realised this, but he still found himself staring artlessly at the wiggling bottom of his boyfriend as it disappeared back into the en-suite bathroom, Toshiro mumbling around their electric toothbrush something that he should no doubt be listening to. A minute later Toshiro wandered back into the bedroom, clad solely in a t-shirt and boxers and apparently comfortable with it, and Ichigo was struck by how domestic the scene was. Heedless to the spell of realisation dawning across the other side of the room, the half-dressed white haired young male continued flowing through his pre-bed (and potentially pre-sex) routine, until he finally slipped under the duvet beside his partner, his pale nose already stuck into his current favourite novel.
A page turned before Ichigo's silence was questioned.
"Can I help you with something?" Toshiro glanced down briefly, momentarily appraising the expression on his boyfriend's face; a red-faced surprise - Ichigo had thought the novel had sufficiently sucked Toshiro into a different world, and so his blatant fixation had been unnoticed. It seemed it hadn't - he really should give Toshiro's perception more credit.
"What're you reading?"
Toshiro wasn't one for mindless chatter, but he complied and showed Ichigo the front of the book - maybe he'd realised the question was just a diversion, and Ichigo mused that he probably had. "I'm getting to the good part," said Toshiro flatly - only the best of books could make his tone waver. "Or the climax, I suppose - Slaughter always puts lots of action in her novels."
"I don't know how you can read crime fiction before bed," Ichigo grumbled, shifting so that he was gazing up at the ceiling.
Sounding amused, Toshiro replied, "Would you rather I read 'The Boy in the Striped Pajamas' again?"
"No - God no." There had actually been tears with that book. While they'd been together for a few years at that point, they'd only been living together for a few weeks, and Ichigo hadn't been expecting - when he returned from lectures that afternoon - to sit locked out of the bathroom for the best part of forty minutes as his distraught boyfriend drowned himself in the bath. "You're never touching that again."
"You're over-reacting."
"Toshiro, you were so upset you let me run you a bubble bath."
Toshiro smacked lightly him on the shoulder. Ichigo responded by grabbing his ankle and sliding him down the bed so that he disappeared under the duvet. Toshiro squawked in outrage. Laughing, Ichigo shimmed himself down and leaned across his partner, tilting the book plastered across his face up to reveal the icy scowl.
"You're so easy to man-handle," he said. Toshiro snatched the novel and clobbered him around the head.
"Child-abuse, child-abuse!" Ichigo shouted, catapulting back up the bed to escape.
Toshiro threw the duvet at him as he untangled himself, sitting back on his knees and wielding the novel like a sword. "Child-abuse?" he echoed, scandalous. "You're twenty-three!"
"Wow am I really?" asked Ichigo, chuckling when his boyfriend leveled him with a glare. He held his hands up in surrender, and Toshiro, crawling over awkwardly, put the book on their bedside table, looking remarkably tempted to continue knocking some sense into him with it. "Have we really been together for that long?" the ginger prompted as they settled back down.
A sigh - he wasn't sure how to interpret it. "Four years isn't that long."
It was Ichigo's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Four years is ages. I'll be having my mid-life crisis soon."
"I had mine when I started dating you," Toshiro muttered despairingly.
"That explains the hair," Ichigo quipped.
Toshiro's lips quirked up into a smile. "You're a moron," he said softly, rolling onto his side so that he was facing away from Ichigo. Deciding that going to sleep was a good idea, Ichigo laid down behind him, and they shuffled for a few moments until they were comfortable, Ichigo half-draped over his lover's smaller form. "Are you going to turn the light off?" Toshiro deadpanned.
"Huh - oh." Ichigo clapped once and the room went dark. He was incredibly grateful for that ingenious piece of technology - he always forgot to switch the lights. The fact that he now didn't have to move from the bed to do so didn't exactly help rectify that, but at least it was good for something. "Sorry."
Toshiro said nothing - he was so quiet that Ichigo thought he'd already fallen asleep until, just a couple of minutes later, he whispered, "Are you going to tell me what you were thinking about earlier?" into the darkness between them. Ichigo frowned, his brain ticking. How early was 'earlier'? Toshiro sighed again and mumbled something under his breath (probably 'idiot'), and shifted so that they were facing each other. Resisting the urge to kiss him on the nose, Ichigo waited for an explanation to arise - 'vague' wasn't Toshiro's usual forte.
"You were staring into space when I was in the bathroom," Toshiro began, voice rich but gentle - the reason for such highlighted in his next sentence. "The last time you had that expression on your face you told me about your mother's death. Is there something you need to ask?"
Ichigo understood now, and he smiled, much to the other's surprise. "Nah, it's nothing like that," he reassured, brushing some of Toshiro's hair. "I was just wondering - you know - like, how did we meet? I know it was in my first year cause we started dating in my second, right? But you were doing Maths while I'm doing Medicine, and we weren't in the same college."
"I suppose that's why people were adamant that our relationship wasn't going to work," Toshiro muttered.
Ichigo clicked his tongue at the reminder. "Screw them. We made it work - I spent an abysmal amount of money on Costa after we met. And pizza - "
"- And those God-awful pop tarts you like so much -"
"- Hey! Don't diss the pop tarts. Friday night was our night, and I was allowed to eat whatever I want." He stuck out his tongue and Toshiro glared at him.
"You could have chosen something less disgusting though - "
They had argued over pop tarts many times before, and they never reached an agreement. This was unusual in their relationship ("We're a democratic." "There's two of us.") but since neither of them were likely to walk out over such a topic of disagreement, it had almost become a battle of wills between them.
"Well," Ichigo cut in, mock-pouting. "I could have chosen you - "
"That was Saturday - "
"Oh my god, do you remember Sex-Saturday? Ahh, we don't have that anymore."
"That's because we live together."
"Sex-Everyday," Ichigo laughed, and then he couldn't stop. Burying his scarlet face into his pillow didn't help - all that achieved was tear-stained fabric and the muffling of Toshiro's own laughter. The happy vibrations just spilled out of his mouth, and even though he tried to tell him that it wasn't that funny, every time he tried to stop Toshiro's quiet giggles set him off again. "I amaze myself sometimes," he gasped eventually, peering out from beneath the pillow.
Toshiro's eyes were bright and playful. "Your periods of ingenuity obviously aren't as frequent as mine."
"Oi." Ichigo shoved him. "What am I? Chopped liver?"
"You're a medical student, don't make that joke."
"Jesus - "
They continued bantering for another half an hour. Their laughter was occasionally interrupted by kissing or the odd more intimate touch, and by midnight their mouths and hands were thoroughly worn out. Toshiro ended up rolling back over so that Ichigo could hold him from behind, and with a last few fleeting whispers and tired chuckles, they went to sleep. Ichigo still didn't know the answer to his question, but by that point it'd become irrelevant; he'd decided he didn't need to know how they'd met, for they'd done so, stuck together like super glue, and that wasn't something incredibly difficult to pull apart.