#**response

1

     Ichigo is rather infuriating. There’s no way around it. The first time they met in fact was an awkward clash of interest that ended in a fight. Admittedly at the time though, Matsukawa was immediately taken with the other with bright orange hair and angular features. The brown eyes that seemed pained but sparkled with amusement and irritation interested him too. His own eyes, a warm chocolate brown that displayed irritation but nothing beyond that was simple compared to. Same dull shades, different stories.

     Unconsciously, he had leaned forward to study those but his eyes caught sight of the other’s lips which seemed a little chapped and a smidge bloodied; enticing. He’d barely met the guy and he wanted to press his lips there and see what it’d feel like, taste. Instead he shook his head and pinched the other’s cheeks. Absolutely not, not right now.

2

     It’s odd that they’re cuddling but he’s not about to just shove the other off especially not when they’re both so comfortable. The slight height difference made for some shifting of pillows for more comfort but it didn’t matter much; somehow it worked. Ichigo’s sunset hair tickling Matsukawa’s nose, his own the victim of ruffling. Yeah it worked. 

     A yawn escaped them both and with it soft laughter and prods to go to sleep. It became a competition, who would stay up the longest? Neither really felt like playing but it became a thing without them noticing. At some point however, Mattsun had lost concentration and had somewhat dozed off, making Ichigo the winner. In his half asleep state however, he ended up looking at the pout the other sported, a cute little thing with endless possibilities. Pulling the slightly shorter towards him, he averted the kiss to the forehead rather than the lips and murmured a good night, fall sleep as he laced his fingers with the other’s rather calloused and roughened ones.

3

     What the hell? Storming in here and starting a shouting match was not what he had expected at all but here they were, screaming insults that were more childish than actual insults, which was somehow more insulting than the insults themselves. They hadn’t quite resorted to physical fighting but he could see the other edging into it, clenched fist and tensed posture. The initial argument was lost and forgotten. 

     He said something particularly biting, sending Ichigo off the edge and rearing a fast punch back. Reflexively, Matsukawa’s arm shot out and pinned one hand to the wall while the other, slower but still fast enough, pushed the other’s shoulder into the wall. This came mostly from break up Oikawa and Iwaizumi but it worked else wise. Spitting fire, the not so much weaker as furious one struggles in the grip, growling and hissing like a feral cat. The sexual tension is palpable but it’s only the two of them in the room. What’s that method they use in movies to shut someone up? Kiss them? He wonders briefly if he should but he wasn’t careful enough and gets socked in the stomach, enough to make him flinch and retract his grip, grabbing the nearest thing (a pillow strangely enough) and hold it up as a shield. Damn.

4

     The faint yet lingering scent of alcohol tips him off. Legally they’re not supposed to drink. Legally speaking, this is illegal. But if they don’t get caught, it’ll be okay. Nothing is illegal if you don’t get caught, right? Whatever the case, he’s begun to stack the empty beer cans lying around into a little tower and it keeps expanding. He’s worried for the other’s liver at this point though he’s tuned out what the ongoing rant is about. Snatching away an unopened can from Ichigo’s hand, the middle blocker glares half heartedly in an attempt to get him to stop groping for the can. In exchange, he feels his face flush with color as something else gets groped. 

     Instantly, discomfort blooms faster than light hits the eyes and his hand is tossing the can over his shoulder and pushing the drunk’s hands off. He mumbles that Ichigo should really go to bed and stop drinking which is responded to with a long, high pitched whine of need and protest. Sighing, he stands and the other shoots up but that was a terrible idea and down he goes-- or not since Mattsun catches him. The momentum is a litlte bit too much however and they both fall, Mattsun taking the impact and getting the wind knocked out of him. Followed by continued high pitched whine squeaks as Ichigo leans down and attempts to press his lips to Matsukawa’s, an attempt that just so unfortunately fails because even though he would likely greatly enjoy kissing the tangerine haired man, he won’t do it drunk. Humming, he lulls the other to sleep and then groans immediately after-- Just kill him now would you?

5

    They’re sharing dinner because Matsukawa once said he could cook and Ichigo absolutely demanded to taste it. He wouldn’t stop pestering so in the end, the taller cooked a simpler meal and served it and now they were eating. Or rather Ichigo was eating, Matsukawa was just snacking. He nibbled on a rice cracker, not particularly hungry but at least the other seemed to enjoy it which was definitely a perk. He looked very happy.

     Actually he’s been watching for a while now and how Kurosaki laughed as he ate and sometimes talked with his mouth full. Still, it was somewhat endearing. Chuckling himself, he leaned over the table and brushed a napkin across the other’s mouth and tsked, commenting on the messy eating. A pout appeared, as cute as the first time he’d seen it and he chuckled, patting his cheek endearingly. Sitting back, he smiled and observed the way a grin would light up Kurosaki’s face as he chattered on without allowing Mattsun time to respond. He noted that his manner of speaking caused his mouth to form very specific ways; it’s be easy to read his lips should Issei ever go deaf. He turned away slightly, a pink dusting his cheeks like stardust floating on the wide expanse of the galaxy. He’s so gay.

6

     It’s not entirely clear how this happened. It seems like a lot of their interactions are vague mysteries that end up in a lot of awkwardly homosexual things and this is no exception. It’s overly warm and that’s because two people are squished into one futon and honestly speaking, Ichigo’s caught a cold with fever and all. Matsukawa has edged out slowly but he’s more or less trapped because of the clutching on his arm.

     Turning slightly, he can see the red flush, decorated with shining beads of sweat that hang from his forehead. Brushing his fingers by the other’s he can feel the heat and sighs. He’s going to get so ridiculously sick doing this (he can feel it) but he leans in close enough and presses his lips to the other’s, not a particularly long kiss but firm and loving, almost. Almost lovingly. Platonically lovingly? He’s heard about how transferring cold and blah blah blah so maybe this will cure Kurosaki. If it doesn’t then there’ll be two sick morons in the house and someone is going to have to take care of them. Might call Iwaizumi for that, or Hanamaki; either or he chuckles at the surprised expression masking the other’s face. Nuzzling him, he pecks his lips once more again and mutters that they should probably go to sleep.