[Log] Gin Ichimaru, Sousuke Aizen

[formative]

Title: Escalation ~ Interlude
Characters: Gin Ichimaru (lcpdragonslayer), Sousuke Aizen (formative)
Timeline: 6 December 1939
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In which Aizen and Gin share a quiet moment with each other and plan a party for good old Antonio.


Three weeks had passed. Three weeks which had been spent putting a good face on the matter, listening and pretending to buy the crock he’s been fed by Antonio. Three weeks searching for the Irish bastards who’d dared to make an attempt on Aizen’s life because they were the true culprit behind the attack. Sometimes the stupidity of his partner hurt. Physically.

The Concavo shut the door a little bit too forcefully and brushed the snow off of his coat, glancing at the men guarding his home. He didn’t like having his house full of people but it was measure he’d been forced to take to protect it. To protect what was in it.

Assuming that Gin was probably sleeping, Sousuke wandered into the living-room to pour himself a drink before he went upstairs to check on his recuperating fox. The younger man had lost a lot of blood but the bullet had fortunately not hit any vital organs and the doctor had assured him that they would not have to worry about any after-effects. So far, he’d been right.

The dark-haired man found Gin asleep in his bedroom and smiled softly as he approached the bed, leaning over to pull the blanket over those bony shoulders.

Gin couldn't remember much of what had happened. He remembered being shot at, he remembered the vase and the flowers and running out, and he remembered chasing after Aizen through the streets.

There were bullets flying everywhere the next minute, and then... then...

Blank.

He could remember waking up with these people standing around him, feeling exasperated, half screaming for Aizen, and half screaming to be let go. It took him a while to register that he was, in fact, at home, and he had to be told that he had been shot, but Aizen was fine.

Aizen was fine... and really, that was all that mattered.

He had also been told on numerous occasions that he was lucky, even though he didn't see how being shot at and then actually being shot moments later constituted as lucky. After all the operations were done, he insisted that he was fine and wanted to go out, but the doctor would have none of it, and neither would Aizen.

He had anticipated being stuck in the house doing nothing would be boring, and it was - when he was awake.

Gin had always been a light sleeper; something that he had been used to as a child and never really changed over these years, so when he heard the door to his room creak open, he forced himself awake. If it had been an assassin, it was far too late to do anything, but it was only Aizen.

He remained still as the older man approached, only shuffling around when the blanket was pulled up over him.

"Yer home just in time fer the party," Gin said. He wasn't used to having the house overrun with minions either.

The hand holding the blanket stilled when Gin turned around. Aizen hadn’t meant to wake the younger man but he took it as a sign that Gin was another step closer to his former self. Good.

“Ah, but nobody brought cake. It’s not a real party when there’s no cake, is it?” he replied with a soft chuckle and released the blanket. Shrugging out of his coat, Sousuke draped it across the foot of the bed before he settled down on the edge.

“You look better, Gin.” Warm brown eyes, a little dull from weariness, looked at the pale face. “Are you feeling better, too?” Aizen asked as he reached out to brush a stray strand of silver hair away and ran the back of his fingers lightly across Gin’s cheek.

Cake? Well, Gin didn't really mind cake... so long as there were cookies. There was always someone who brought cookies along to parties - and the silver fox probably spent more time hanging and snooping around the chocolate chip cookies than actually making conversation.

He found himself relaxing instinctively at Aizen's touch, and he made a soft, content purr.

"I dunnoe. I guess so," he said. It still hurt, sometimes, when he moved around, but it wasn't bleeding as much anymore, and it felt a lot better than it did last week, or even a few days ago.

"Am just happeh ya ain't hurt," he added a little softly, averting his gaze. He didn't really enjoy admitting it, but he wouldn't know what to do if Aizen had gotten hurt. Or killed.

Happy that I’m not hurt?

Aizen’s smile faded, leaving a blank mask behind. They hadn’t talked about what happened that night, yet, and maybe it would be wiser to leave it that way.

As soon as it was clear that Gin would live, the shock had turned into relief and then given way to anger. Slow boiling, seething anger at the younger man for throwing away his life so carelessly. He’d pushed it away, locked it up; disregarded it as irrational and foolish - Gin had saved him from a bullet, after all - but it was still there, lurking, threatening to resurface.

It doesn’t matter. He didn’t die. He did not die.

“Sometimes I really don’t know what to do with you. Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours,” Sousuke said, keeping his voice low and cupped Gin’s face, tapping the silver-haired man’s temple lightly, “and draw a blank. It’s almost vexing.”

Sliding his hand into Gin’s hair, Aizen leaned forward with a smile and curled his fingers into a tight grip. “Tell me, Gin. What were you thinking?” he purred. “I told you to go down, didn’t I? Even shouted it at you if memory serves me right. Yet, you chose to gamble with your life.” A hint of anger flickered in his eyes.

“Never do that again. Never. Understood?”

Gin winced and tensed up considerably, his fingers curling into the sheets as Aizen’s vice-like grip sent the pain echoing through his body. He swallowed, trying to turn away, only to induce more pain. He gasped softly.

He felt helpless and vulnerable, like this, subject to Aizen’s scrutiny, to Aizen’s anger. He couldn’t even remember what happened that night. He probably didn’t think - probably wasn’t thinking, when he did what he had done…

But he would do it again, regardless of what Aizen said, regardless of what Aizen did to him. If Aizen’s life had been in danger, did he really expect Gin to just stand there and watch him get hurt, or watch him get shot, or watch him die? What did that make Gin? He promised Aizen that day that he would follow him, and Aizen had taken care of him. He went out of his way to look after Gin - bought him clothes, food, gave him a room - this room - gave him a life that he could have never have dreamt of, gave him anything and everything he wanted…

Aizen had been, in some respect, like a father to him. A father that he never had. A man that he could rely on, a man that had always been there, a man that he admired… so much… and a man that… cared about him.

Aizen was so much more than a man. He was like a god - looking down at that little boy in the dirty alleyway, smiling, crouching down to talk to him at more-or-less eye level, patting his head… He had taken that little boy out from his meaningless existence, and he made Gin feel like he was capable of doing something.

Somehow, the silver fox managed to loosen his white-knuckled grip on the sheets, and his pale, skinny arms emerged from under the thick, warm blanket. He slipped his arms up and around Aizen’s neck, holding himself up to and close to the older man, disregarding the grip in his hair. Aizen could do whatever he wanted to. Gin didn’t care. He just wanted… he needed…

“Thank you…”

Loosening his grip on Gin’s hair, Aizen cupped the back of Gin’s head and slid his other arm around the narrow back. Although he would never admit it, the younger man had scared him that night, made him feel helpless. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience and he had no interest in a repeat performance.

“Always keep your life,” he murmured and rubbed the slender back gently. “I need you to live, Gin.”

All his life, Sousuke had judged people by how useful they could be to him. He’d kept them around as long as they served his needs and discarded them as soon as they lost their purpose.

Gin, however, had managed to break through that pattern. The work he did for the older man wasn’t anything that couldn’t have been done by someone else and maybe it would have been sensible to get rid of the silver fox but he didn’t want to. Something inside him rebelled against a life without his little troublemaker, who made him laugh, who kept surprising him and who made him feel… more than merely content with his life.

“If you leave me alone with those morons, I’ll go insane.” Aizen pulled back a little and looked at the younger man. The anger had drained from his eyes, leaving only warmth and a hint weariness behind.

“I’d never forgive you for that,” he added, lips curving into a small smile.

Aizen was warm, and the warmth was soothing, spreading through his body, making Gin feel at ease in a way no one else could. A quiet, contented sigh escaped his lips, and even though he didn't want to let go, his arms slipped away, bare without Aizen's neck to cling on to.

Aizen had been the second person in his life that he actually seemed to mean something to. No one else cared whether he lived or died - no one else cared about him. And that - That alone...

"I made you worry," Gin said softly, noticing how worn Aizen looked. Did he really mean that much to the older man? Gin had been around long enough to notice that most of the people Aizen made use of lasted only a few years or so, and he was well aware that he was already past shelf life. The silver fox expected to be discarded sometime in the near future - he wouldn't know what to do, but somehow he would make things work.

But these things Aizen kept doing... these things he kept saying - and, more importantly, the things Aizen didn't say... Gin didn't know if the older man meant it, or if it was just a cruel little game, intended to string him along.

He wanted to believe - he wanted to trust Aizen, and he wanted to trust those words, but he didn't know if he was hurting himself more in the process.

But I won't leave you, Mista Aizen... Not until you don't want me anymore. I won't leave you alone. I'll always be here, like you've always been there for me... And even though I can't do anything for you, even though I can't do anything right, I'll keep trying... I'll keep trying for you, Aizen.

"Have there been any other attempts?" Gin inquired. The house had been busy with people everywhere bustling about, but Gin hadn't heard anything while he was awake. It must have caused quite the commotion, and Aizen probably didn't like having his usual work interrupted because of this...

And he wished he could do more - as it was, he was the heaviest burden, the biggest problem, as usual - but all he could do was lie here and weigh everyone down.

Aizen let his hand linger on Gin’s head a bit longer before he released his hold on the slender frame completely and reached for his drink on the nightstand. “No. No more attempts. Those cunning Irishmen are very good at hiding,” he replied, smiling wryly and took a sip from his glass.

“We’ve been combing the city for the past weeks. No luck so far. Interesting, isn’t it?” The dark-haired man chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “But, at least, we’ve settled our differences and Toni’s doing everything he can to dig out those bastards for us. He’s very concerned and he’s been inquiring about your health. Sends greetings and hopes you’ll feel better soon.”

Sousuke resisted the urge to roll his eyes and sighed as he shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his tie. Something made a rustling sound as he placed the jacket on the bed. “I almost forgot. Mrs Kandinski made you cookies,” he said, pulling out a small bag from the pocket and placed it into Gin’s lap. “To help you recover more quickly.”

“Say, Gin. Shouldn't we give Antonio something nice for Christmas as a thank you for the effort he’s making?”

Irishmen… Yes, Gin had heard about the story that Antonio had spun to cover the botched attempt. He didn’t get why Aizen was wasting money and resources combing the city if Antonio had offered so kindly to help with the search. They had more than enough reason and definitely enough resources to take care of Antonio and his crew.

He looked down at the oddly-shaped paper bag and his smile widened. He liked Mrs. Kandinski’s cookies - she made them with the chocolate chips that were not bitter, and condensed milk. Rolling the bag’s top open, he stuck his hand inside and pulled one out, nibbling on it.

He grabbed his bag of cookies and shuffled over, closer to wall to give Aizen room to sit, or even possibly lie down, if the older man so wished.

“Concerned about my health, huh. That’s real interestin’, coming from Mista Antonio,” he said, taking another nibble, trying his best not to get crumbs everywhere.

“Yeh - s’rude not ta thank ‘im fer ‘is well wishes, after all. How’s a one-way ticket fer ‘im n’ ‘is entire family to the bottom of the Hudson River sound?”

“That’s not very nice, Gin. It’s too cold to take a swim. Besides, I don’t think he can swim and it’s so impersonal.” Aizen laughed softly as he stretched his out legs and leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. He sighed when he felt the muscles in his back relax.

This whole business had to end soon.

“A small party would be nice. Antonio, his family, you, me.” The Concavo cast an amused glance at the younger man. “We could set it at the old factory. Add a tree and pretty lights. I’m sure they’ll love it.”

Gin fished out another cookie when he had finished his first and pushed the bag of cookies over a little, just so Aizen could reach if he wanted one.

A party, huh...

Yeah, that would be nice.

He took a small bite out of his cookie, lowering his hand to his lap as he leaned over towards the wall, resting his head against it. It felt cool against his skin.

"I'll bring the wrap n' the tape," he offered, smiling lightly as he cast a glance over to Aizen.

They had been working together for quite some time, but they didn't always have the opportunity to sit - or lay down, as it were - like this and talk. Aizen couldn't spend time with him the way they did when they met on the streets anymore, and while it was a shame, Gin came to cherish the time they did spend together.

"Ya look almost in worse shape than me," Gin said, wondering how much sleep Aizen actually got over the past few weeks - or food, for that matter. He looked like he had lost some weight.

"Was a waste of my effort takin' that bullet fer ya if ya keep goin' like this..."

Aizen’s eyebrows flew up and he blinked at his little fox as if he wasn’t sure if he’d heard right. Part of him wanted to smack Gin for taking the stunt he’d pulled so lightly, another part was glad to see that Gin’s good spirits had returned. The latter part won.

Lying down, he folded an arm behind his head and closed his eyes. “Taking bullets is always a bad idea,” he replied loftily. “I could have told you that but you never believe anything you hear anyway and always need to try things out yourself...” Cracking an eye open, Sousuke peered at the silver-haired man and chuckled. “Feeling regret yet?”

The weight of the past weeks was finally slipping away. His second was alive and kicking, the preparations for reorganising the board were completed and for the first time since the attack, he could feel the coil in his stomach unwind.

“We’ll make our move as soon you’re completely recovered and we’ll have to move quickly. Once Antonio’s gone, the board will go and then we’ll have to deal with the parasites and leeches on the bottom.” The Concavo tilted his head and looked up at Gin with a very serious expression on his face.

“You won’t be able to sit around all day and indulge in your paper plane folding obsession for a long time, I’m afraid.”

Gin chuckled lightly, grinning.

“No, no regrets. Y’know, they say there’s always a first time fer everythin’… n’ it’s unpleasant, but it coulda been a lot worse.”

He looked out the window, watching the snow descend like a light rain falling from the skies. He had come to like the snow, when only three years ago winters were bitter and harsh, admiring how pretty it made everything look. Despite all this going on, the snow was indiscriminate, and in the dark, gruesome world he lived in, to be able to experience something so pretty…

It really was a treat.

He had been lying here for three weeks now, and while he was living in Aizen’s house, with Aizen’s men running around everywhere, he felt oddly detached from the world. He hadn’t had to kill anyone, go down to wharves to supervise shipments, carry out drug deals, run money across town… He hadn’t forgotten - no, he could never forget… but it seemed too long a break. Gin Ichimaru was just a tool, a tool which now had Aizen’s purpose - and tools that weren’t put to use would rust and be obsolete.

Getting rid of Antonio and his crew was only the beginning. There’s no way everyone would sit still and take the news lightly. A lot of families were going to be put out of business. A lot of people were going to die.

He looked over to Aizen, the light smile never wavering.

“S’not an obsession. S’a pastime. Ya didn’t hire me ta fold paper planes. ‘Sides, I enjoy seeing it rain blood more.” Crimson rain was… definitely prettier than the snow. It occurred too rarely, but when it did, it was… gratifying.

Is that how you see yourself? As someone I hired?

Aizen didn’t remember hiring Gin at all. He remembered picking up a kid from the streets and taking him home; very much like one did with a stray kitten that one had taken a fancy to. Of course, Gin wasn’t a kitten; he was far more interesting and captivating and, so far, Sousuke hadn’t regretted his decision.

To think that he’d almost lost him...

“Well, I believe you’ll be able to enjoy plenty of those in the near future.” The smile on the Concavo’s lips widened, turning into that of a hungry tiger. Knowing that he wouldn’t have to sit still and keep it cool much longer filled him with a deep sense of satisfaction. Perhaps even joy.

“I’ve always thought that red suits you rather well. You look more alive.”

"Really? Ya think so?" Gin asked, his smile widening as he took another bite of his cookie. It really didn't get much better than the feeling of fresh, warm blood on his hands, on his face, tainting his hair as if it were tainting snow. He couldn't remember a time in his life without violence, without blood - it made him feel... at peace. The crimson liquid had intrigued him from the very beginning, bringing a sparkle to dull blue irises, and it was truly amazing, to watch life drain away from someone in such a real, physical manner.

And even those times when his own blood had been shed, he found himself unable to resist the urge to lick the blood off, to taste the metallic liquid in his mouth, to taste, in essence, his lifeforce.

It gave him a high akin to drug-induced highs, and like a drug, it became something he needed. He definitely felt more animated, bathed in crimson.

"Can't explain it," Gin said, a thoughtful expression on his face. Couldn't explain why it made him feel hazey, why he felt entranced with the taste of blood on his lips, with the feeling of blood on his fingers.

"It's... a rather unhealthy obsession."

“Is that what you think?” Rolling onto his side, Aizen propped up his head in his hand, studying Gin’s face. They both had what could be considered unhealthy obsessions.

It was a bit strange that they were most alive when they were surrounded by death. Not that they were lifeless in their daily lives. It just felt different; more like functioning like a machine.

“There are much worse habits, Gin. At least, this one doesn’t cause permanent damage to your health?” he added, smiling wryly and brushed a few crumbs off the sheet. A small piece of chocolate stuck to his fingers. He stared at it, uncertain how to handle it for a moment, before he licked it off.

“We all need a little joy in our lives; whether we find it in cookies or blood doesn’t really matter,” he sighed, “as long as it makes you happy.” A small frown creased his forehead. Was he still making sense or was that the exhaustion talking?

"But I'm always happy," Gin said in his usual tone of voice, and his deceptive, perpetual smile made it nearly impossible to tell whether he was speaking the truth, or whether it was a blatant lie.

He rolled up the open end of the bag of cookies, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he squirmed around to try and lie back down again. It was a little crammed, with Aizen on his bed as well, but he liked having Aizen around, having Aizen close to him.

"You, on the other hand..."

He cast a gaze towards Aizen as his voice trailed away, looking up, over at those brown irises, and his smile widened as he looked away again.

It felt like he was melting into the mattress, now that he was lying down again. Just the softness underneath the fox was enough to make him feel a little tired, a little sleepy. It was good weather for sleep, too.

“Are you? That’s good.” Aizen replied evenly as he watched Gin squirming around, a small smile on his lips. He wondered if the younger man really believed it or if it had been said for his benefit. Did it matter?

What about me?

Sousuke waited for the silver fox to finish his sentence but when he saw how sleep slowly embraced the younger man, he chuckled softly and let it be. It probably wasn't that important.

Reluctantly he sat up, trying to shake off the heaviness in his bones and swung one of his legs over the edge. “I should let you get a bit more rest now. I have kept you up long enough.”

"Going so soon?" Gin asked softly, unable to conceal that expectant tone in his voice. He hadn't meant to drive Aizen away. He could only see the man's back from his current position.

"You should get some rest," he added, deciding it wasn't his place to ask Aizen to stay behind. He didn't want to waste any more of Aizen's time, anyway. "S'not everyday ya get the chance ta catch some sleep while hundreds of people look after the place fer ya."

It was starting to feel empty and cold again, now that Aizen wasn't lying next to him. He curled up under the thick blanket, sighing softly.

At the sound of Gin’s voice, Aizen turned around, a hint of concern ghosting over his face when he saw the other man curled up under the blanket, looking small and lost. Reaching out, he placed his hand on the silver head and smiled softly.

“Don’t worry about me. You’re the one who needs rest,” he replied quietly but made no move to get up. Well, he could stay a bit longer he supposed. At least, until the younger man had fallen asleep. He really didn’t feel like moving around anyway.

The dark-haired man settled back against the headboard and leaned his head against the wall, his hand never leaving those soft strands of silver.

Aizen's fingertips were cool against Gin's head, and Gin purred contentedly. Aizen's hand... it had been the hand that plucked him out of his old life, the hand that saved him, the hand that hurt him, but the hand that, at the end of the day, patted him on the head, reassuring him that everything would be alright.

That hand was soothing, growing warm against his head. Gin had never felt any safer than this, lying here in Aizen's presence, and slowly, the tension in his muscles seeped away, his lax body sinking, melting into the sheets.

It didn't take long for the weary Gin to fall asleep with a light smile on his face, as if he had not a care in the world, warm, comforted and at peace despite everything going on around them.

Although he could hear that Gin had fallen asleep, Aizen didn’t leave. He kept threading his fingers through his little fox’s hair gently and listened to Gin’s even breathing.

Never intended to keep you for this long. Never expected you to stay this long, either. I guess we’ve tamed each other. But which one of us is the prince?

The dark-haired man chuckled softly and closed his eyes. He wanted to hold on to the calm and tranquillity of the moment a little longer - just a little bit - and promptly fell asleep.