Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or any of the Bleach characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

The Unmentionable

He was sick of the games, the cryptic notes, and the giggling that would commence each morning when he walked into his office. It wasn't hard to see that his lieutenant was trying to teach him, a child in his own right, how to have a little bit of fun. His idea of fun and excitement, however, had nothing to do with hers. For Matsumoto, a good time started with getting stone drunk with Captain Kyoraku whilst bar-hopping, only to end with her collapsing on the couch in his office, making the place smell like it needed to be doused in Fabreze.

Sadly, this was, once again, one of those mornings.

The absence of her smiling face was welcome, while the stench was nearly enough to make him drop to the floor. Toshiro covered his face with a hand, wrinkling his nose as he crossed the room to hover over the couch. He had half a mind to throw something at her, preferably the pitcher of sake that she'd vomited all over his floor. A tempting notion, but, were he to go through with it, there would be no getting work done for the rest of the day.

The young captain shook his head, hopping over the spots on the soiled carpet as he made his way around the desk, grimacing at the mound of paperwork that sat waiting for him. Suddenly feeling nauseous, Toshiro darted around the room, yanking the windows open so as to allow some fresh air to fill his lungs. If he had to endure Matsumoto's hellish snoring, then he at least deserved to breathe in clean air rather than her toxic stench.

Slipping into his chair, Toshiro grabbed the first few papers that were within reach. His blue eyes scanned over the page, barely taking in half of what he was reading. There was a strange feeling as he read over the document, almost as if he'd seen it somewhere before. He moved to look at the date stamp in the upper left corner, his hands balling into fists as he realized that this was the same report he'd filed three days prior. To add insult to injury, his signature at the bottom had been covered with white-out.

Matsumoto's idea of a joke for sure.

He stood, glowering at her sleeping form on the couch, moving quickly in hopes of strangling her. There was a moment of weightlessness as his foot caught on something, sending the captain tumbling to the floor with a loud thud. The paperwork, which had been sitting on the edge of the desk, cascaded over his back, making the captain hate his lieutenant even more. Crawling out from beneath the new mess, he shifted through the papers, eyes wide when he found exactly what he'd tripped over.

Rather than angry, Toshiro was shocked and disgusted, wishing that he hadn't run across such a thing. Drawing his sword, he poked at the object with its tip, lifting it off the floor so as to hold it over Matsumoto.

"Wake up, idiot," he hissed, giving the couch a good kick.

She stirred slightly, opening her eyes with that trademark smile. "Morning, Captain," she said, sitting up to stretch. "You wouldn't know it by looking at him, but I'll tell you, Captain Kyoraku sure knows how to dance."

"I don't care about what you did last night, thanks for not asking! I want to know what the hell this was doing on my floor!" The colored object was thrown promptly into Matsumoto's face, the captain's own about as red as a freshly picked tomato.

The woman's eyes widened slightly, a laugh escaping her lips as she nearly fell off the couch. "Oh, you found them!" Matsumoto giggled. "I was wondering where my panties went. Haven't seen them since we hit that last bar. Whoo! What a rush! I really thought that I'd lost them."

Toshiro felt himself gag, a hand shooting to his mouth. "Matsumoto," he grimaced, backing towards the door, "you'd do well to keep your unmentionables out of sight and out of mind."