[Log] Aizen, Gin
Title: Happy Birthday, Apple Pie! (Part 1)
Characters: Sousuke Aizen (lcpdragonslayer), Gin Ichimaru (formative)
Timeline: May 29, 2007
Rating: G
Summary: Gin tries to do something special for Aizen's birthday.
What was supposed to be a busy but pleasant afternoon had turned into a medium-sized disaster. Aizen’s kitchen was a complete mess. A dented and slightly damaged can of tomatoes was constantly dripping its contents on the floor; the lump of meat looked like it had been attacked by horde of toothless squirrels, mushrooms littered the floor, a lobster and a fish were sharing the sink - they seemed to get along quite well.
Gin was nowhere to be seen. After an hour of wrestling with the knife and the can opener, it had finally hit him that nothing worked properly because everything was designed for a left-handed person. A quick glance at his watch told him he still had a few hours before Sousuke came home. Dropping everything, the publicist had run out to buy normal kitchen equipment.
Another two hours passed before the publicist finally returned. The can of tomatoes had successfully emptied its liquid contents into a puddle on the floor and the sea creatures in the sink were probably planning their wedding reception.
This - all of this - would have been so much easier if Gin had told Aizen to meet him at his apartment! But for some odd reason, the other man didn’t like the blond’s neighbours. Apparently, they were ‘strange’.
Cursing under his breath, Gin scooped up the mushrooms to wash them again and eyed the meat. It didn’t look too healthy any more. Well, no meat today, then.
The blond still had a little over an hour before the birthday child arrived and figured that it would be enough time to prepare the sea creatures. Why had he bought them alive again? Dumping the mushrooms in a bowl, he bent over the sink and stared at the animals.
“Hello fishy. Time to say ‘bye bye’ to the wifey, eh?”
The fish bubbled.
Today was just like any other working day, with appointments, meetings, paperwork and an endless chain of e-mails to reply to. Some days had lighter workloads than others, but everything seemed to even out somehow in the grand scheme of things.
The telephone rang while Aizen was in the midst of composing an e-mail, and he ignored the incessant ringing tone until the e-mail was proofread and sent. If it was really that important for it to be a direct call to his line, whoever was calling could wait.
Reaching over for the receiver, he tucked it between his shoulder and ear, shuffling through various documents on his desk as he spoke. For some reason, people seemed to think that Aizen had the answer to everything. Perhaps it had to do with the relatively swift, calm responses the CEO provided, even for questions meant for another department to answer.
He glanced over at the clock hanging on his wall briefly before reaching up for the receiver, holding the phone in one hand and talking properly as he leaned back in his seat a little.
Lori came into his office to pick up files which he had not yet signed, and he had to ask his caller to hold on for a few minutes, placing the phone on the desk while he sorted through that with her before resuming his call.
No - today was just like any other day. Gin did, however, take the day off, putting up only minimal information on Lotus Notes. Aizen had wondered what the mischievous little fox was up to intermittently through his busy day, but decided in the end that it was just Gin being Gin. Perhaps, if Gin was free tonight, they could do something impromptu.
Stupid bubbling fish had bubbled and bubbled at the publicist until he had to turn away and decided to peel the potatoes first. “Just you wait,’ he growled at the sink, “I’m gonna slice yer belly open, ya stupid, slimy, bubbling thing, but first I’m gonna make ya watch how I stick a metal rod through yer wifey’s pretty little tail into her brains.”
Gin dropped the potatoes into a pot with water, added some salt and put it on the stove. The mushrooms were next. Hm, he’d intended to serve them with the meat but since they weren’t going to have any… He chopped them up anyway. Maybe they’d come in handy later. Once they were done, he waltzed out of the kitchen and made his way towards the living-room.
The blond flopped down onto the couch and picked up the phone to ring Lori.
“Hello, Lori~,” he chirped. “How’s our lord and master doin’ today? Yeah, he’s always busy. Think ya can deliver a message from me? Tell him, I’ll meet him at his place after work - normal people’s ‘after work’, ‘kay?”
Rolling off the couch, Gin returned to the kitchen. “Kiss yer wifey goodbye, fish!” he sing-songed and pulled the lobster out of the sink. Now, where was that metal rod?
A soft jingle indicated that a new e-mail had arrived in his inbox, and Aizen read the message while giving a one-worded reply to a long monologue from the other end of the phone line.
So, Gin was at his place. That was interesting, for a day off...
He cast a gaze over at the clock - there was still a bit of time to go before it reached 'normal people's 'after work'', which was apparently what Lori said Gin had said.
"That's fine. Could you give me the account and invoice numbers and I will have my accounts department look into it?" Aizen said, leaning over his desk for a pen and retrieving a stack of post-it notes to write it on.
"Alright. We will get back to you tomorrow morning," he said, replacing the cap over the pen and slipping it back into the pen holder.
"To you as well. Goodbye."
Hanging up, Aizen leaned back against his seat, his gaze lingering on the phone for a moment before he reached over for the receiver, dialling the number to his home phone.
The lobster was lying on its back, kept straight by the thin piece of metal that human had inserted, pondering on whether this was how all lobster lives ended and whether lobsters believed in reincarnation. If they did, this one wanted to be reborn as something that didn't end up with a stick in its belly and wouldn't be thrown into boiling water alive.
While the lobster tried to fill the last moments of its life with meaningful thoughts, Gin was poking the potatoes with a fork, humming softly to himself as he added a handful of herbs into the water and wiped his hands.
The phone rang. Still humming, the publicist sauntered to the living-room and picked it up without thinking. There was a short moment of silence in which he wondered what to say. Well…
"Hello, caller! Please, listen before you speak. This is the Aizen residence. Mister Aizen is not available right now. If it is urgent, please call again tomorrow. There will be no beep and no one will take a message. Therefore, do not, I repeat, do not leave a message. You'll just make a fool of yerself. Have a nice evening, caller," Gin piped and hung up. Grinning in a satisfied manner, he strolled back into the kitchen. He had a lobster to boil and a fish to gut.
Aizen was chuckling to himself after Gin had spoken and hung up on him. So he was not going to get any information as to why Gin was in his house, and what Gin could possibly be doing over there. He replaced the receiver, his gaze lingering on the phone for a moment.
With a soft sigh, he got back to work, opening the file. He would find out what the fox was up to soon enough. If he was going to get home on time though, he would have to finish the work he had to do.
The CEO twirled the pen between his fingers idly as he read through the document. There were still a few minor details that needed to be clarified, refined and/or added before he could sign this.
A glance at the watch triggered the frowning at the pots. The better part of an hour had passed since the phone call. Water was not boiling which meant that either Aizen's stove was broken or the heat was not turned on. The latter was true and whose fault was that? Spidery fingers drummed a rapid, aggressive rat-a-tat-tat on the counter as pale blond brows were drawn together.
This was not going according to plan at all.
At least, nobody knew about this little surprise. With a light shrug and a sigh, Gin switched the cooker on and bent over the sink, propping his chin up in his hands. "Let's get this over with quickly, shall we?" he chirped and plunged his hands into the water to catch the fish. Holding it in a tight grip, he lifted it out of the sink and slammed its head onto the chopping board.
"Lucky, lucky fishy. Ya get to die 'fore yer wifey 'n don't have to hear her screams when she's bein' boiled alive. Though, ya sea creatures can't scream, can ya?" The blond reached for a large pointy knife. "Now, hold still. This ain't gonna hurt a bit."
Pointing the tip of the knife at the fish's throat, the publicist pushed it inside and sliced the soft belly open. A squirt of blood caught arm and part of his t-shirt. He should have bought an apron, too. Oh well, too late. Reaching inside, he curled his fingers around the entrails and pulled them out, wrinkling his nose at the squishing noise it made.
"Dis-gust-ing," he sighed as he wiped his hands on his already soiled shirt and continued to clean the fish. He could borrow some clothes from Aizen later - after a shower…
Time had a tendency to dwindle away when one was busy, and nothing could be truer for the CEO. It was a good quarter of an hour past what was considered ‘normal going home time’, but finally everything that needed to be done was all taken care of.
He tidied up his desk a little and sent some last e-mails out. It was not until about ten minutes later that Aizen switched the computer off and gathered up a few of his personal items in preparation to leave.
Blackberry, wallet, keys, memory stick... that seemed to be about it. He picked his jacket up and headed out the door, closing and locking it behind him.
“Going home now?” asked his surprised secretary. She was usually long gone by the time he knocked off.
“Yes. I will see you tomorrow - unless you would like a lift home?”
“Oh no no no! I still have some things to finish up here - you go ahead.”
He nodded and made his way over to the elevators. It was not yet peak hour but traffic would still be congested at this time...
For the first time in Aizen-and-Gin-history, the blond was actually hoping that Aizen wouldn’t make it out of the office on time.
He had successfully gutted the fish but he’d made a big mistake when he scraped off the scales. Stuffing it into a plastic bag would have been a good idea. It definitely would have prevented those scales from flying into all directions. Some stuck to the wall and the floor; some clung to Gin’s face and hair. It was pretty unpleasant. However, fishy was all smooth and clean now.
The publicist chopped the head off and separated the flesh from the bone. Perfect. He dusted the filets with some salt and pepper before he moved towards the lobster. Judging by the feeble movements of its legs, it was still somewhat alive.
“Poor thing. Didn’t mean to make ya wait so long.” Gin stroked its belly gently. “But yer hubby was a real pain, ya know?” Lifting it from the counter, he dangled the crustacean over the pot. With a cheerful grin he dunked it headfirst into the boiling water and let go. “Bye bye~,” he said, wriggling his fingers in the air a couple of times.
As soon as the lobster was a nice shade of red, the blond emptied the contents of the pot into the sink, dousing their dinner with cold water. Placing it next to the remains of her hubby, he repeated the procedure with the potatoes, only this time he put a colander into the sink first.
Half an hour later, not only fish scales were decorating the wall and counter but also small pieces of lobster shell. The tender lobster tail had been sliced in half and distributed on two plates, curled around two pretty little piles of lobster-potato-salad.
Gin covered the plates and put them into the fridge along with the fish filets. He washed his hands and began to chop up some garlic and onions. Since the canned tomatoes were more or less useless now (he still had to clean that mess up), he’d decided to serve the fish with pasta in a light white wine cream sauce. Yes, that sounded alright. It could wait, though.
First, the blond needed to take a shower. Having a smelly dinner companion, dressed in a fish blood shirt, was certainly not high on Sousuke’s list of things he wanted to do before he died. After work traffic would hopefully grant him another ten to fifteen minutes.
“Cause everybody wants ‘n everybody needs,” he sang happily, as the knife steadily reduced the garlic to mush. “Everybody asks for one more piece. Everybody wants to hear someone say please...”
Chop. Chop. Chop.
He drummed his fingers over the steering wheel idly as traffic inched along. There were taxis and annoyed motorists everywhere - it really was an interesting sight. Aizen was by no means frustrated; on the contrary, it was a most amusing spectacle to watch.
A song that he recognised came on, and his gaze shifted down to the radio. It was a debut album released under his label, and the song had remained on the top of the charts for five weeks now. He was supposed to be sorting out reviews to her contract next week.
It was not too bad a song, really. Catchy tune; definitely had appeal to the youth and perhaps some middle-aged people as well.
Getting stuck in a traffic jam was a waste of time, though. The CEO had enough time to fiddle with his blackberry and reply to an e-mail before having to focus on inching forward a little. He was duly reminded why he often did not go home at this time, even if there was little to do in the office.
But of course, he had to get there in time to make sure Gin had not burnt the house down, or anything.
Having finished all dinner related chores, Gin glanced around, wondering what to do now. He could clean up the kitchen, he supposed, and remove that bright red puddle from the floor.
Squatting down, the blond poked his finger into the thick liquid and swirled it around a little. A wicked little idea blossomed in his head. He pulled his finger out of the puddle and dragged it across a clean spot on the floor. Two vertical lines connected by a horizontal one. Dipping his skinny finger into the puddle again, he drew another two lines which had the same starting point and joined them with a horizontal line, too.
This went on for a while and when the publicist was finished, he had a broad and very satisfied smile on his face. ‘Bet no one’s ever done that for ya, dahlin’,’ he thought, chuckling softly to himself. Right. Now that that was done, he should definitely clean himself up.
Just as he was about to rise to his feet, however, Gin heard the entrance door open and close downstairs. Huh. Birthday child was home already...
What now?
He didn’t have time to think; he had to improvise. The blond stretched out on the floor on his belly, arms flung out, and lowered the side of his head into the puddle of tomato sauce.
Right next to his head was his little piece of art. It said: Happy Birthday!
A contented sigh escaped his lips once Aizen closed the front door behind him. Home at last, after all that traffic. He stepped out of his shoes and pushed them off to one side, noting that Gin's shoes were present as well, and he smiled a little as he made his way up the stairs towards the living room.
There was definitely commotion in the kitchen, and Aizen could smell food cooking, which was a pleasant surprise. His kitchen was hardly ever used except for the odd miracle of a night or two where he could cook at home. And even on those nights, he tended to eat whatever he bought from the supermarket that day and accompany it with something instant from his pantry.
It was all a pleasant surprise, of course, until he made it to the top of the flight of stairs and saw Gin lying down on the floor in a puddle of red. Aizen's eyes widened and he nearly dropped his briefcase, with documents and his laptop inside. Taking a couple of cautious steps forward, he noticed that there was a morbid-looking 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' written on the floor in crimson liquid.
Well...
Wow. He had never seen his kitchen so used - or perhaps abused - before. Gin seemed to be busying himself messing the entire place up right until he... was sprawled out on the floor. Thankfully, and somewhat miraculously, none of this mess got onto the carpeted area.
"Gin?" the CEO said, prodding the body on the floor with the tip of his socked foot tentatively.
Gin? Just ‘Gin’ and a prod with his foot?
The blond surely deserved better than that after working hard in the kitchen all day? Cooking food, trying to do something nice, something no one had ever done for Aizen before. Well, he’d definitely achieved that, what with messing up the pretty and shiny kitchen…
Lifting his head, Gin peered at Sousuke, an impish grin on his face, tomato juice dripping from his hair and chin.
“Welcome home~”
Oh. Okay. So the blond was alive. Aizen crouched down and smiled at his pubilcist, reaching over to pat Gin on the... cleaner side of his head, ruffling up the blond strands a bit.
"You're alive," he said.
"...What are you doing, besides trying to possibly claim your non-existent life insurance, burn the place down and messing up my kitchen?" Aizen asked, in a manner that suggested that he was more amused by this scene than annoyed.
It appeared like a scene from a typical, horrendous, dragged-out melodramatic television series where the unsuspecting housewife was killed while cooking dinner when a burglar or murderer broke into the house.
"Why don't you get yourself cleaned up?" Aizen suggested as he slowly got to his feet again. This was not going to be a calm, peaceful night with nothing much to do after all.
“H-hey, I was tryin’ to do somethin’ nice for ya!” Gin pouted as he pushed himself into a sitting position, revealing his ruined t-shirt and rubbed his nose. “It would’ve worked too, if yer kitchen weren’t so evil.”
Red liquid from his face dripped onto his shoulder, forming little red dots there. Give it a bit longer and he’d have a hippie batik print shirt. The blond looked at Aizen, who was all clean and presentable looking like he just got read to go out, his head tilted to the side.
Suddenly, a spark lit up his pale blue eyes and he jumped to his feet. Flinging himself at the other man, he wrapped his arms around Sousuke’s larger frame and planted a kiss on the tip of his nose.
“Mmkay, I can get clean but ya gotta lend me somethin’ to wear,” he chirped. “Didn’t bring spare clothes cuz I didn’t expect the food to fight back so hard.”
“I noticed,” Aizen said absently. There was nothing in sight to show that Gin was trying to do something nice for him - unless the blond meant messing up the kitchen and trying to feint murder.
He did not know whether to hold Gin at length or to embrace him, but since washing one bloodstained shirt or two would make little difference, Aizen decided to go for the latter, careful not to dirty his jacket.
“I still have some of your clothes in my cupboard,” Aizen noted. He had reserved a section just for Gin’s clothes when the blond started coming over more often, and he added a couple of new shirts he had bought but never got the chance to give to Gin to that collection as well.
“They’re in my bedroom,” he said, pulling back from the embrace. “Why don’t you go get a shower - I’ll... try and clean the place up, I suppose.”
Gin had clothes at Aizen’s home? He must have forgotten them… how could he have left without them? Strange but quite convenient.
“Sweet.” The blond pulled off his shirt and wiped his face as he padded towards the hallway but stopped short of stepping out at the other man’s last words. Turning his head, he stared over his shoulder at Sousuke.
“Ya wanna what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Mister CEO wanted to clean up? “On yer birthday?”
Hm. Time really flies - it felt like only yesterday it had been an uneventful May 29th. In fact, his birthday had felt like any other ordinary day for the past number of years. Gin trying to do something for him... it was quite nice.
"Well I can't leave the place like this, can I," said Aizen as he made his way over to the living room, set his briefcase down and took off his jacket. There were red splotches on his shirt where Gin had hugged him, and he would have to get himself cleaned up as well.
"Unless you are volunteering to clean up your own mess?" Aizen suggested, smirking a bit.
Gin turned fully around and blinked at the battlefield. Of course, he hadn’t intended to leave it like that and he would have cleaned it up earlier if he’d had the time. Nibbling on his bottom lip, he approached the red puddle and dumped his shirt on it.
“Alright, alright. I’ll tidy it up. Ya can go fiddle with yer blackberry or make phone calls or somethin’.” With a long suffering sigh, the blond knelt down and began to wipe the liquid up. The cotton almost soaked it up completely. Good quality, he noticed absently as he got up to rinse it in the sink, watching red tinted water swirl down the drain.
It took him about ten minutes to return the floor to its previous clean state. Who would have thought that tomato juice could be so feisty once it had dried? He was a bit sad, though, that the birthday wish was gone. It had looked so pretty…
Dropping his t-shirt turned mop into the bin, Gin grabbed a handful of disposable kitchen towels and a sponge to work on the counter and wall. “So gonna do that at my place next year,” he mumbled to himself.
What makes you think you’ll get the chance to do something like this again, hm? It’s a miracle he hasn’t strangled you, yet.
“Shut up!” Gin hissed, leaning against the counter, stretching up to reach one particularly naughty fish scale on the wall and brushed a few damp strands of hair out of his face. It didn’t do him much good. Grumbling, he crawled onto the kitchen counter, careful not to overbalance and scrubbed at the wall furiously.
This was a truly brilliant idea! Got any more of those? If so, you should probably get rid of them as quickly as possible.
Great. Now his own brain was mocking him and laughing obnoxiously.
“Shut yer gob or I’ll schedule a lobotomy first thing in the mornin’.”
Aizen chuckled a bit as he made his way over to the couch, sitting down with a contented sigh as he rest the back of his head against the top of the couch, closing his eyes for a moment. It was more than just another day of monotony - of coming home, showering, having a quick dinner whilst doing something on the laptop, and having the laptop drain away the rest of his waking time. Gin was actually here - cleaning up, even, and here Aizen was, having never thought that a day would come when Gin would be cleaning his own kitchen.
“Wouldn’t do you any good to get a lobotomy,” Aizen said aloud in response to Gin who seemed to be talking to himself. “I would imagine that getting an ice pick driven through your eye socket and banging it around is not the most pleasant experience. It would be good to keep your frontal lobe intact. It has proven to be rather useful.”
The CEO got to his feet and walked over to the counter with his hands in his pockets, looking up at Gin.
“What can I do to ease your suffering?”
“Ice pick… through… my eye socket?” Thin slits of blue focused their attention on the dark-haired man. Sometimes, Aizen was a little… how should Gin put it? ‘Weird’ didn’t really apply and neither did ‘odd’. Whatever it was, it gave Gin the creepy crawlies - which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
The blond gave the wall a last swipe and hopped off the counter, dumping the towels on top of his shirt in the bin. “Not sufferin’ ‘n ‘tis rude to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, ya know,” he replied with a small grin before he grabbed a tea towel and wet it under the faucet to wipe the counter off one last time.
“Hungry?”
Oh. Sounded like Gin did not know exactly what was involved in a lobotomy… Either that, or he was referring to something different to what Aizen was thinking.
“Not really,” the CEO said. “It can wait until you’re done having a shower, I’m sure.”
He looked down at the splotches of crimson on his shirt. He should probably have a shower as well - would help to freshen up a bit, and he might get the stains out of this shirt after all.
“So,” he said as he pulled the tie off and unbuttoned his shirt. “What did you do on your day off, besides try to burn my place down?”
Gin rinsed the towel and wrung it out. “I wasn’t gonna burn down yer place. Can’t afford the insurance fee, ya know. I told ya I was doin’ somethin’ nice fer ya. Didn’t ya listen?” he sighed as he hung it over the tap. He had said it out loud, hadn’t he? “Is my voice so pretty that ya jus’ listen to its sound without hearin’ what I say, hm?”
“If ya must know, however, I…” The blond paused when he saw Aizen’s fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt and blinked. “I broke up a marriage of two lovely sea dwellers,” he continued, chuckling softly. “They’re both in fish heaven now, I guess.”
Pushing away from the counter the publicist strolled towards the fridge, brushing past Sousuke and took out the plates containing their starters to let them warm up a little. Ice cold food wasn’t very tasty.
“Voilá. Salade de pommes de terre avec homard,” he announced with a happy smile. “Now, ya gotta excuse me. Gonna clean myself up now so yer appetite won’t get spoilt by dirty old me.” Gin winked at the other man and sauntered out of the kitchen. "Want me to bring ya a shirt on my way back, dahlin'?"
Something nice, huh? Gin had yet to convince Aizen all this was something nice - breaking up a holy union between two fish did not sound like anything nice at all, really - that was, until the publicist brought out the food. Aizen’s reaction was merely blinking at it.
Gin had made that? By himself? In this kitchen? Potato salad with lobster?
“I’m impressed,” the CEO said, smiling at Gin as he walked up to the display. He was going to say he did not think Gin knew how to cook, but…
Nevermind.
“Alright,” he called out a little to Gin. A new shirt would be nice - he wouldn’t want to eat in a bloodstained shirt, and Gin probably didn’t want to eat with someone who was wearing a bloodstained shirt.
“Where did you learn that?” Aizen asked. Whether he referred to the food or the French was purposefully left ambiguous.
“Learn what?” Gin yelled from the guest bathroom as he kicked off his jeans and turned the water on. The cooking? The French? He looked into the mirror and laughed a little at the faint red streaks on his face and his sticky hair, imagining what it must have looked like before he’d wiped it off.
“LEARN WHAT?” the blond yelled again, waiting for the water to heat up. He hated vague questions.
Correction: he hated being on the receiving end of vague ambiguous questions.
“Nothing~” Aizen replied, raising his voice a little so he could be heard. Although he did not really know if Gin could hear him over the water in the shower or not. The CEO continued to examine the lobster on potato salad. He had been with Gin for almost a year now yet he never knew that Gin could cook.
Well, at least. It looked edible… whether it really was or not was… well, they would soon find out.
The home phone rang from behind him, and Aizen looked over his shoulder at the phone with the intermittently blinking red light. He walked over to the couch and sat down before picking up the receiver.
“Hello? Oh - hello… Yes, I just got home,” he said, reaching over for his briefcase. He unzipped it a bit awkwardly with one hand and pulled the laptop out, switching it on while he chatted idly on the phone. Birthday or not, it seemed as if the corporate world waited for no one.
Gin had to wash his hair twice and made a note that while lying down in the puddle had been fun, he’d better never do that again. Several yelps escaped him when he tried to thread his fingers through his hair and accidentally ripped some of it out. And Aizen hadn’t seemed terribly impressed, either.
Turning off the water, the publicist shook his head, sending water flying and stepped out of the shower. He towelled himself dry, slung it around his waist and snatched his pants from the floor. On his way to the master bedroom, he could hear Sousuke talking on the phone. The older man’s voice was low-pitched and even - business call.
“Switched it off in Rome but can’t bring yerself to do the same today?” he muttered softly as he flipped through his clothes. The CEO’s phone hadn’t rung once during their weekend in Italy, had remained silent for two days. For Gin. Upon their return they’d discovered that Aizen’s not being available was not something the company could handle. The dark-haired man had been busy dealing with the minor catastrophe for the rest of the week and Gin had walked around with a funny feeling in his stomach.
Bony fingers stopped when they came across a few shirts that didn’t belong to the blond but were his size, and therefore, couldn’t be Aizen’s, either. Not paying any attention to it since it was none of his business Gin slipped into a pair of dark-grey slacks and put on a pale green shirt, snatching a black one - he liked black on his boss - for Mister Aizen.
The question to whom those pieces of clothing belonged, kept nagging at him, though, as he padded towards the living-room, rolling his sleeves up.
Not only was the older man talking on the phone, he was also ‘laptopping’. Not a quick call, then. The blond reminded himself to be good on this special day and carefully deposited the fresh shirt on the armrest before he sat down next to Sousuke. Crossing his legs, he folded his hands on his knee and settled for watching his CEO’s hands fly across the keyboard.
“Yes, but I had it sent out last Friday, on the… 25th.”
His gaze lifted in time to see Gin walk in, and the CEO smiled briefly before dropping his gaze back onto the screen. He slid his finger over the touchpad, moving to open up another window and awkwardly type up something with one hand. Where was his headpiece when he needed it?
“I do not own USPS. I cannot be held accountable for their inefficiency.”
He reached into his briefcase and shuffled around until he found what felt like his earpiece. Retrieving it, he clipped it onto his ear and fiddled with his phone for a few seconds before pulling up his inbox on Lotus Notes.
“Yes, well. I am not God. How am I supposed to know where it is if I do not have the tracking number?”
Funny. He never noticed how high-pitched and nerve-grating Doug’s voice was.
“There is nothing I can do about that right now, since I am at home. I can, however, print out and send a fax of the invoice if you can give me the invoice number.”
Aizen noted the number down on a notepad document, and proceeded to pull it up through the company’s server.
“Will do… yes… goodbye…”
He sighed audibly as the printer downstairs churned out the invoice.
“Accountants can be so demanding…”
Gin’s hands twitched lightly when Aizen said he wasn’t a god. ‘Always so humble,’ he thought and giggled softly to himself. He twiddled his thumbs backwards and forwards, unlaced his fingers and let them dance across his knee.
Be patient. Patient.
Uncrossing his legs, the publicist slid into a sprawl and let his head fall back. He raised his arms above his head and stretched. Boredom was reaching out, ready to grab the blond and choke him. He could feel its spindly fingers curl around his neck when Aizen - awesome, brilliant, impeccable-timing-Aizen - hung up and… complained about accountants?
“Awwh, poor Mista Aizen.” Gin drawled and threaded his fingers through the soft hair at Sousuke’s nape.
“I keep tellin’ ya yer too nice to the minions. Ya should lemme deal with ‘em. No one would ever call again. Ya’d have more time fer fun things, ya know?” he added, smiling sweetly and leaned in to rest his chin on the other man’s shoulder.
No one would ever call again - and the company would probably collapse in a matter of two weeks. Ever since Gin had become the publicist for Hougyoku Records, there was a list of extra contacts Aizen had to liaise with since they refused to communicate with Gin.
“I am sure you can handle them, Gin, but what would I do with all the spare time?” he asked. He tapped Gin on the nose lightly, smiling.
He stood up slowly, the weight of Gin’s head slipping off his shoulder. He had that fax to send, and - oh, Gin brought a clean shirt for him to change to. Black again?
“A fetish for black shirts?” Aizen asked casually as he slipped out of his bloodstained shirt and unbuttoned the fresh one. He left the tie and the dirty one on the floor for the moment as he slipped into the black shirt, buttoning it back up.
“Right. Ya wouldn’t know what to do with yerself.” Gin sighed exaggeratedly and shook his head sadly. “Forget I offered.”
If the publicist had known about the additional workload his lack of manners had caused Aizen, he would have hunted those sniveling ninnies down and ripped them a new one for running to big daddy to cry their little eyes out. However, the publicist hadn’t noticed, or if he had, he didn’t care that some individuals, who made his head hurt, had ceased to call.
“It looks pretty on ya.” The blond shrugged lightly as he stepped around the other man and patted his ass affectionately. “Takes off that mild-mannered-nice-guy coating of yers that people are so fond of. ‘S kinda sexy.” Chuckling he slipped his hands into his pockets and strolled out of the living-room to take care of their dinner.
“’Allo, salade avec homard. Ready to fulfill yer purpose?” Gin chirped and brushed his fingertips across the edge of the plate to check the temperature. "Don't disappoint me, eh?"
“Oh? And what is this ‘mild-mannered-nice-guy coating’ of mine that you speak of?” the CEO asked, smiling almost innocently as if he was unaware of how disarming he could be - had to be, at times, in his line of work. “I have never been particularly relenting when it comes to work.”
Smoothing the shirt out, he followed Gin to the kitchen, eyeing up the display of food. A small part of him was still wondering whether Gin really made the entire dish from scratch, and whether this was edible or not.
“Alright; I’ll be back in about five minutes then. I have to send that fax.”
Aizen was halfway down the stairs when he called out to Gin.
“You should try on those new shirts in the wardrobe. They are your size but they might not fit you well.”
He picked up the printout of the invoice sitting on the printer and took a few steps over to the fax machine, surfing through his blackberry for a little while before finding the number to fax the invoice over to.
Gin saw that odd look Aizen had given the plates and wondered what that was all about. Aizen wasn’t worried that Gin was trying to poison him, was he? That’d be utterly ridiculous, not to mention quite offensive.
The publicist knew didn’t have any visible wow-that’s-so-amazing-skills and he tended to mess things up sometimes because he got distracted - or bored - but he would never mess with food. He was attacking a bottle of white wine with a cork screw when the other man suggested he try on the ownerless shirts in his closet. They were for Gin?
“What, now?”
Spidery fingers tightened around the slender bottle neck while the publicist’s other hand tried to get that damn screw into the cork. Meanwhile his eyes were darting around, searching for a nice solid edge that would chop off the bottle’s neck without making too big a mess.
Characters: Sousuke Aizen (lcpdragonslayer), Gin Ichimaru (formative)
Timeline: May 29, 2007
Rating: G
Summary: Gin tries to do something special for Aizen's birthday.
What was supposed to be a busy but pleasant afternoon had turned into a medium-sized disaster. Aizen’s kitchen was a complete mess. A dented and slightly damaged can of tomatoes was constantly dripping its contents on the floor; the lump of meat looked like it had been attacked by horde of toothless squirrels, mushrooms littered the floor, a lobster and a fish were sharing the sink - they seemed to get along quite well.
Gin was nowhere to be seen. After an hour of wrestling with the knife and the can opener, it had finally hit him that nothing worked properly because everything was designed for a left-handed person. A quick glance at his watch told him he still had a few hours before Sousuke came home. Dropping everything, the publicist had run out to buy normal kitchen equipment.
Another two hours passed before the publicist finally returned. The can of tomatoes had successfully emptied its liquid contents into a puddle on the floor and the sea creatures in the sink were probably planning their wedding reception.
This - all of this - would have been so much easier if Gin had told Aizen to meet him at his apartment! But for some odd reason, the other man didn’t like the blond’s neighbours. Apparently, they were ‘strange’.
Cursing under his breath, Gin scooped up the mushrooms to wash them again and eyed the meat. It didn’t look too healthy any more. Well, no meat today, then.
The blond still had a little over an hour before the birthday child arrived and figured that it would be enough time to prepare the sea creatures. Why had he bought them alive again? Dumping the mushrooms in a bowl, he bent over the sink and stared at the animals.
“Hello fishy. Time to say ‘bye bye’ to the wifey, eh?”
The fish bubbled.
Today was just like any other working day, with appointments, meetings, paperwork and an endless chain of e-mails to reply to. Some days had lighter workloads than others, but everything seemed to even out somehow in the grand scheme of things.
The telephone rang while Aizen was in the midst of composing an e-mail, and he ignored the incessant ringing tone until the e-mail was proofread and sent. If it was really that important for it to be a direct call to his line, whoever was calling could wait.
Reaching over for the receiver, he tucked it between his shoulder and ear, shuffling through various documents on his desk as he spoke. For some reason, people seemed to think that Aizen had the answer to everything. Perhaps it had to do with the relatively swift, calm responses the CEO provided, even for questions meant for another department to answer.
He glanced over at the clock hanging on his wall briefly before reaching up for the receiver, holding the phone in one hand and talking properly as he leaned back in his seat a little.
Lori came into his office to pick up files which he had not yet signed, and he had to ask his caller to hold on for a few minutes, placing the phone on the desk while he sorted through that with her before resuming his call.
No - today was just like any other day. Gin did, however, take the day off, putting up only minimal information on Lotus Notes. Aizen had wondered what the mischievous little fox was up to intermittently through his busy day, but decided in the end that it was just Gin being Gin. Perhaps, if Gin was free tonight, they could do something impromptu.
Stupid bubbling fish had bubbled and bubbled at the publicist until he had to turn away and decided to peel the potatoes first. “Just you wait,’ he growled at the sink, “I’m gonna slice yer belly open, ya stupid, slimy, bubbling thing, but first I’m gonna make ya watch how I stick a metal rod through yer wifey’s pretty little tail into her brains.”
Gin dropped the potatoes into a pot with water, added some salt and put it on the stove. The mushrooms were next. Hm, he’d intended to serve them with the meat but since they weren’t going to have any… He chopped them up anyway. Maybe they’d come in handy later. Once they were done, he waltzed out of the kitchen and made his way towards the living-room.
The blond flopped down onto the couch and picked up the phone to ring Lori.
“Hello, Lori~,” he chirped. “How’s our lord and master doin’ today? Yeah, he’s always busy. Think ya can deliver a message from me? Tell him, I’ll meet him at his place after work - normal people’s ‘after work’, ‘kay?”
Rolling off the couch, Gin returned to the kitchen. “Kiss yer wifey goodbye, fish!” he sing-songed and pulled the lobster out of the sink. Now, where was that metal rod?
A soft jingle indicated that a new e-mail had arrived in his inbox, and Aizen read the message while giving a one-worded reply to a long monologue from the other end of the phone line.
So, Gin was at his place. That was interesting, for a day off...
He cast a gaze over at the clock - there was still a bit of time to go before it reached 'normal people's 'after work'', which was apparently what Lori said Gin had said.
"That's fine. Could you give me the account and invoice numbers and I will have my accounts department look into it?" Aizen said, leaning over his desk for a pen and retrieving a stack of post-it notes to write it on.
"Alright. We will get back to you tomorrow morning," he said, replacing the cap over the pen and slipping it back into the pen holder.
"To you as well. Goodbye."
Hanging up, Aizen leaned back against his seat, his gaze lingering on the phone for a moment before he reached over for the receiver, dialling the number to his home phone.
The lobster was lying on its back, kept straight by the thin piece of metal that human had inserted, pondering on whether this was how all lobster lives ended and whether lobsters believed in reincarnation. If they did, this one wanted to be reborn as something that didn't end up with a stick in its belly and wouldn't be thrown into boiling water alive.
While the lobster tried to fill the last moments of its life with meaningful thoughts, Gin was poking the potatoes with a fork, humming softly to himself as he added a handful of herbs into the water and wiped his hands.
The phone rang. Still humming, the publicist sauntered to the living-room and picked it up without thinking. There was a short moment of silence in which he wondered what to say. Well…
"Hello, caller! Please, listen before you speak. This is the Aizen residence. Mister Aizen is not available right now. If it is urgent, please call again tomorrow. There will be no beep and no one will take a message. Therefore, do not, I repeat, do not leave a message. You'll just make a fool of yerself. Have a nice evening, caller," Gin piped and hung up. Grinning in a satisfied manner, he strolled back into the kitchen. He had a lobster to boil and a fish to gut.
Aizen was chuckling to himself after Gin had spoken and hung up on him. So he was not going to get any information as to why Gin was in his house, and what Gin could possibly be doing over there. He replaced the receiver, his gaze lingering on the phone for a moment.
With a soft sigh, he got back to work, opening the file. He would find out what the fox was up to soon enough. If he was going to get home on time though, he would have to finish the work he had to do.
The CEO twirled the pen between his fingers idly as he read through the document. There were still a few minor details that needed to be clarified, refined and/or added before he could sign this.
A glance at the watch triggered the frowning at the pots. The better part of an hour had passed since the phone call. Water was not boiling which meant that either Aizen's stove was broken or the heat was not turned on. The latter was true and whose fault was that? Spidery fingers drummed a rapid, aggressive rat-a-tat-tat on the counter as pale blond brows were drawn together.
This was not going according to plan at all.
At least, nobody knew about this little surprise. With a light shrug and a sigh, Gin switched the cooker on and bent over the sink, propping his chin up in his hands. "Let's get this over with quickly, shall we?" he chirped and plunged his hands into the water to catch the fish. Holding it in a tight grip, he lifted it out of the sink and slammed its head onto the chopping board.
"Lucky, lucky fishy. Ya get to die 'fore yer wifey 'n don't have to hear her screams when she's bein' boiled alive. Though, ya sea creatures can't scream, can ya?" The blond reached for a large pointy knife. "Now, hold still. This ain't gonna hurt a bit."
Pointing the tip of the knife at the fish's throat, the publicist pushed it inside and sliced the soft belly open. A squirt of blood caught arm and part of his t-shirt. He should have bought an apron, too. Oh well, too late. Reaching inside, he curled his fingers around the entrails and pulled them out, wrinkling his nose at the squishing noise it made.
"Dis-gust-ing," he sighed as he wiped his hands on his already soiled shirt and continued to clean the fish. He could borrow some clothes from Aizen later - after a shower…
Time had a tendency to dwindle away when one was busy, and nothing could be truer for the CEO. It was a good quarter of an hour past what was considered ‘normal going home time’, but finally everything that needed to be done was all taken care of.
He tidied up his desk a little and sent some last e-mails out. It was not until about ten minutes later that Aizen switched the computer off and gathered up a few of his personal items in preparation to leave.
Blackberry, wallet, keys, memory stick... that seemed to be about it. He picked his jacket up and headed out the door, closing and locking it behind him.
“Going home now?” asked his surprised secretary. She was usually long gone by the time he knocked off.
“Yes. I will see you tomorrow - unless you would like a lift home?”
“Oh no no no! I still have some things to finish up here - you go ahead.”
He nodded and made his way over to the elevators. It was not yet peak hour but traffic would still be congested at this time...
For the first time in Aizen-and-Gin-history, the blond was actually hoping that Aizen wouldn’t make it out of the office on time.
He had successfully gutted the fish but he’d made a big mistake when he scraped off the scales. Stuffing it into a plastic bag would have been a good idea. It definitely would have prevented those scales from flying into all directions. Some stuck to the wall and the floor; some clung to Gin’s face and hair. It was pretty unpleasant. However, fishy was all smooth and clean now.
The publicist chopped the head off and separated the flesh from the bone. Perfect. He dusted the filets with some salt and pepper before he moved towards the lobster. Judging by the feeble movements of its legs, it was still somewhat alive.
“Poor thing. Didn’t mean to make ya wait so long.” Gin stroked its belly gently. “But yer hubby was a real pain, ya know?” Lifting it from the counter, he dangled the crustacean over the pot. With a cheerful grin he dunked it headfirst into the boiling water and let go. “Bye bye~,” he said, wriggling his fingers in the air a couple of times.
As soon as the lobster was a nice shade of red, the blond emptied the contents of the pot into the sink, dousing their dinner with cold water. Placing it next to the remains of her hubby, he repeated the procedure with the potatoes, only this time he put a colander into the sink first.
Half an hour later, not only fish scales were decorating the wall and counter but also small pieces of lobster shell. The tender lobster tail had been sliced in half and distributed on two plates, curled around two pretty little piles of lobster-potato-salad.
Gin covered the plates and put them into the fridge along with the fish filets. He washed his hands and began to chop up some garlic and onions. Since the canned tomatoes were more or less useless now (he still had to clean that mess up), he’d decided to serve the fish with pasta in a light white wine cream sauce. Yes, that sounded alright. It could wait, though.
First, the blond needed to take a shower. Having a smelly dinner companion, dressed in a fish blood shirt, was certainly not high on Sousuke’s list of things he wanted to do before he died. After work traffic would hopefully grant him another ten to fifteen minutes.
“Cause everybody wants ‘n everybody needs,” he sang happily, as the knife steadily reduced the garlic to mush. “Everybody asks for one more piece. Everybody wants to hear someone say please...”
Chop. Chop. Chop.
He drummed his fingers over the steering wheel idly as traffic inched along. There were taxis and annoyed motorists everywhere - it really was an interesting sight. Aizen was by no means frustrated; on the contrary, it was a most amusing spectacle to watch.
A song that he recognised came on, and his gaze shifted down to the radio. It was a debut album released under his label, and the song had remained on the top of the charts for five weeks now. He was supposed to be sorting out reviews to her contract next week.
It was not too bad a song, really. Catchy tune; definitely had appeal to the youth and perhaps some middle-aged people as well.
Getting stuck in a traffic jam was a waste of time, though. The CEO had enough time to fiddle with his blackberry and reply to an e-mail before having to focus on inching forward a little. He was duly reminded why he often did not go home at this time, even if there was little to do in the office.
But of course, he had to get there in time to make sure Gin had not burnt the house down, or anything.
Having finished all dinner related chores, Gin glanced around, wondering what to do now. He could clean up the kitchen, he supposed, and remove that bright red puddle from the floor.
Squatting down, the blond poked his finger into the thick liquid and swirled it around a little. A wicked little idea blossomed in his head. He pulled his finger out of the puddle and dragged it across a clean spot on the floor. Two vertical lines connected by a horizontal one. Dipping his skinny finger into the puddle again, he drew another two lines which had the same starting point and joined them with a horizontal line, too.
This went on for a while and when the publicist was finished, he had a broad and very satisfied smile on his face. ‘Bet no one’s ever done that for ya, dahlin’,’ he thought, chuckling softly to himself. Right. Now that that was done, he should definitely clean himself up.
Just as he was about to rise to his feet, however, Gin heard the entrance door open and close downstairs. Huh. Birthday child was home already...
What now?
He didn’t have time to think; he had to improvise. The blond stretched out on the floor on his belly, arms flung out, and lowered the side of his head into the puddle of tomato sauce.
Right next to his head was his little piece of art. It said: Happy Birthday!
A contented sigh escaped his lips once Aizen closed the front door behind him. Home at last, after all that traffic. He stepped out of his shoes and pushed them off to one side, noting that Gin's shoes were present as well, and he smiled a little as he made his way up the stairs towards the living room.
There was definitely commotion in the kitchen, and Aizen could smell food cooking, which was a pleasant surprise. His kitchen was hardly ever used except for the odd miracle of a night or two where he could cook at home. And even on those nights, he tended to eat whatever he bought from the supermarket that day and accompany it with something instant from his pantry.
It was all a pleasant surprise, of course, until he made it to the top of the flight of stairs and saw Gin lying down on the floor in a puddle of red. Aizen's eyes widened and he nearly dropped his briefcase, with documents and his laptop inside. Taking a couple of cautious steps forward, he noticed that there was a morbid-looking 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' written on the floor in crimson liquid.
Well...
Wow. He had never seen his kitchen so used - or perhaps abused - before. Gin seemed to be busying himself messing the entire place up right until he... was sprawled out on the floor. Thankfully, and somewhat miraculously, none of this mess got onto the carpeted area.
"Gin?" the CEO said, prodding the body on the floor with the tip of his socked foot tentatively.
Gin? Just ‘Gin’ and a prod with his foot?
The blond surely deserved better than that after working hard in the kitchen all day? Cooking food, trying to do something nice, something no one had ever done for Aizen before. Well, he’d definitely achieved that, what with messing up the pretty and shiny kitchen…
Lifting his head, Gin peered at Sousuke, an impish grin on his face, tomato juice dripping from his hair and chin.
“Welcome home~”
Oh. Okay. So the blond was alive. Aizen crouched down and smiled at his pubilcist, reaching over to pat Gin on the... cleaner side of his head, ruffling up the blond strands a bit.
"You're alive," he said.
"...What are you doing, besides trying to possibly claim your non-existent life insurance, burn the place down and messing up my kitchen?" Aizen asked, in a manner that suggested that he was more amused by this scene than annoyed.
It appeared like a scene from a typical, horrendous, dragged-out melodramatic television series where the unsuspecting housewife was killed while cooking dinner when a burglar or murderer broke into the house.
"Why don't you get yourself cleaned up?" Aizen suggested as he slowly got to his feet again. This was not going to be a calm, peaceful night with nothing much to do after all.
“H-hey, I was tryin’ to do somethin’ nice for ya!” Gin pouted as he pushed himself into a sitting position, revealing his ruined t-shirt and rubbed his nose. “It would’ve worked too, if yer kitchen weren’t so evil.”
Red liquid from his face dripped onto his shoulder, forming little red dots there. Give it a bit longer and he’d have a hippie batik print shirt. The blond looked at Aizen, who was all clean and presentable looking like he just got read to go out, his head tilted to the side.
Suddenly, a spark lit up his pale blue eyes and he jumped to his feet. Flinging himself at the other man, he wrapped his arms around Sousuke’s larger frame and planted a kiss on the tip of his nose.
“Mmkay, I can get clean but ya gotta lend me somethin’ to wear,” he chirped. “Didn’t bring spare clothes cuz I didn’t expect the food to fight back so hard.”
“I noticed,” Aizen said absently. There was nothing in sight to show that Gin was trying to do something nice for him - unless the blond meant messing up the kitchen and trying to feint murder.
He did not know whether to hold Gin at length or to embrace him, but since washing one bloodstained shirt or two would make little difference, Aizen decided to go for the latter, careful not to dirty his jacket.
“I still have some of your clothes in my cupboard,” Aizen noted. He had reserved a section just for Gin’s clothes when the blond started coming over more often, and he added a couple of new shirts he had bought but never got the chance to give to Gin to that collection as well.
“They’re in my bedroom,” he said, pulling back from the embrace. “Why don’t you go get a shower - I’ll... try and clean the place up, I suppose.”
Gin had clothes at Aizen’s home? He must have forgotten them… how could he have left without them? Strange but quite convenient.
“Sweet.” The blond pulled off his shirt and wiped his face as he padded towards the hallway but stopped short of stepping out at the other man’s last words. Turning his head, he stared over his shoulder at Sousuke.
“Ya wanna what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Mister CEO wanted to clean up? “On yer birthday?”
Hm. Time really flies - it felt like only yesterday it had been an uneventful May 29th. In fact, his birthday had felt like any other ordinary day for the past number of years. Gin trying to do something for him... it was quite nice.
"Well I can't leave the place like this, can I," said Aizen as he made his way over to the living room, set his briefcase down and took off his jacket. There were red splotches on his shirt where Gin had hugged him, and he would have to get himself cleaned up as well.
"Unless you are volunteering to clean up your own mess?" Aizen suggested, smirking a bit.
Gin turned fully around and blinked at the battlefield. Of course, he hadn’t intended to leave it like that and he would have cleaned it up earlier if he’d had the time. Nibbling on his bottom lip, he approached the red puddle and dumped his shirt on it.
“Alright, alright. I’ll tidy it up. Ya can go fiddle with yer blackberry or make phone calls or somethin’.” With a long suffering sigh, the blond knelt down and began to wipe the liquid up. The cotton almost soaked it up completely. Good quality, he noticed absently as he got up to rinse it in the sink, watching red tinted water swirl down the drain.
It took him about ten minutes to return the floor to its previous clean state. Who would have thought that tomato juice could be so feisty once it had dried? He was a bit sad, though, that the birthday wish was gone. It had looked so pretty…
Dropping his t-shirt turned mop into the bin, Gin grabbed a handful of disposable kitchen towels and a sponge to work on the counter and wall. “So gonna do that at my place next year,” he mumbled to himself.
What makes you think you’ll get the chance to do something like this again, hm? It’s a miracle he hasn’t strangled you, yet.
“Shut up!” Gin hissed, leaning against the counter, stretching up to reach one particularly naughty fish scale on the wall and brushed a few damp strands of hair out of his face. It didn’t do him much good. Grumbling, he crawled onto the kitchen counter, careful not to overbalance and scrubbed at the wall furiously.
This was a truly brilliant idea! Got any more of those? If so, you should probably get rid of them as quickly as possible.
Great. Now his own brain was mocking him and laughing obnoxiously.
“Shut yer gob or I’ll schedule a lobotomy first thing in the mornin’.”
Aizen chuckled a bit as he made his way over to the couch, sitting down with a contented sigh as he rest the back of his head against the top of the couch, closing his eyes for a moment. It was more than just another day of monotony - of coming home, showering, having a quick dinner whilst doing something on the laptop, and having the laptop drain away the rest of his waking time. Gin was actually here - cleaning up, even, and here Aizen was, having never thought that a day would come when Gin would be cleaning his own kitchen.
“Wouldn’t do you any good to get a lobotomy,” Aizen said aloud in response to Gin who seemed to be talking to himself. “I would imagine that getting an ice pick driven through your eye socket and banging it around is not the most pleasant experience. It would be good to keep your frontal lobe intact. It has proven to be rather useful.”
The CEO got to his feet and walked over to the counter with his hands in his pockets, looking up at Gin.
“What can I do to ease your suffering?”
“Ice pick… through… my eye socket?” Thin slits of blue focused their attention on the dark-haired man. Sometimes, Aizen was a little… how should Gin put it? ‘Weird’ didn’t really apply and neither did ‘odd’. Whatever it was, it gave Gin the creepy crawlies - which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
The blond gave the wall a last swipe and hopped off the counter, dumping the towels on top of his shirt in the bin. “Not sufferin’ ‘n ‘tis rude to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, ya know,” he replied with a small grin before he grabbed a tea towel and wet it under the faucet to wipe the counter off one last time.
“Hungry?”
Oh. Sounded like Gin did not know exactly what was involved in a lobotomy… Either that, or he was referring to something different to what Aizen was thinking.
“Not really,” the CEO said. “It can wait until you’re done having a shower, I’m sure.”
He looked down at the splotches of crimson on his shirt. He should probably have a shower as well - would help to freshen up a bit, and he might get the stains out of this shirt after all.
“So,” he said as he pulled the tie off and unbuttoned his shirt. “What did you do on your day off, besides try to burn my place down?”
Gin rinsed the towel and wrung it out. “I wasn’t gonna burn down yer place. Can’t afford the insurance fee, ya know. I told ya I was doin’ somethin’ nice fer ya. Didn’t ya listen?” he sighed as he hung it over the tap. He had said it out loud, hadn’t he? “Is my voice so pretty that ya jus’ listen to its sound without hearin’ what I say, hm?”
“If ya must know, however, I…” The blond paused when he saw Aizen’s fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt and blinked. “I broke up a marriage of two lovely sea dwellers,” he continued, chuckling softly. “They’re both in fish heaven now, I guess.”
Pushing away from the counter the publicist strolled towards the fridge, brushing past Sousuke and took out the plates containing their starters to let them warm up a little. Ice cold food wasn’t very tasty.
“Voilá. Salade de pommes de terre avec homard,” he announced with a happy smile. “Now, ya gotta excuse me. Gonna clean myself up now so yer appetite won’t get spoilt by dirty old me.” Gin winked at the other man and sauntered out of the kitchen. "Want me to bring ya a shirt on my way back, dahlin'?"
Something nice, huh? Gin had yet to convince Aizen all this was something nice - breaking up a holy union between two fish did not sound like anything nice at all, really - that was, until the publicist brought out the food. Aizen’s reaction was merely blinking at it.
Gin had made that? By himself? In this kitchen? Potato salad with lobster?
“I’m impressed,” the CEO said, smiling at Gin as he walked up to the display. He was going to say he did not think Gin knew how to cook, but…
Nevermind.
“Alright,” he called out a little to Gin. A new shirt would be nice - he wouldn’t want to eat in a bloodstained shirt, and Gin probably didn’t want to eat with someone who was wearing a bloodstained shirt.
“Where did you learn that?” Aizen asked. Whether he referred to the food or the French was purposefully left ambiguous.
“Learn what?” Gin yelled from the guest bathroom as he kicked off his jeans and turned the water on. The cooking? The French? He looked into the mirror and laughed a little at the faint red streaks on his face and his sticky hair, imagining what it must have looked like before he’d wiped it off.
“LEARN WHAT?” the blond yelled again, waiting for the water to heat up. He hated vague questions.
Correction: he hated being on the receiving end of vague ambiguous questions.
“Nothing~” Aizen replied, raising his voice a little so he could be heard. Although he did not really know if Gin could hear him over the water in the shower or not. The CEO continued to examine the lobster on potato salad. He had been with Gin for almost a year now yet he never knew that Gin could cook.
Well, at least. It looked edible… whether it really was or not was… well, they would soon find out.
The home phone rang from behind him, and Aizen looked over his shoulder at the phone with the intermittently blinking red light. He walked over to the couch and sat down before picking up the receiver.
“Hello? Oh - hello… Yes, I just got home,” he said, reaching over for his briefcase. He unzipped it a bit awkwardly with one hand and pulled the laptop out, switching it on while he chatted idly on the phone. Birthday or not, it seemed as if the corporate world waited for no one.
Gin had to wash his hair twice and made a note that while lying down in the puddle had been fun, he’d better never do that again. Several yelps escaped him when he tried to thread his fingers through his hair and accidentally ripped some of it out. And Aizen hadn’t seemed terribly impressed, either.
Turning off the water, the publicist shook his head, sending water flying and stepped out of the shower. He towelled himself dry, slung it around his waist and snatched his pants from the floor. On his way to the master bedroom, he could hear Sousuke talking on the phone. The older man’s voice was low-pitched and even - business call.
“Switched it off in Rome but can’t bring yerself to do the same today?” he muttered softly as he flipped through his clothes. The CEO’s phone hadn’t rung once during their weekend in Italy, had remained silent for two days. For Gin. Upon their return they’d discovered that Aizen’s not being available was not something the company could handle. The dark-haired man had been busy dealing with the minor catastrophe for the rest of the week and Gin had walked around with a funny feeling in his stomach.
Bony fingers stopped when they came across a few shirts that didn’t belong to the blond but were his size, and therefore, couldn’t be Aizen’s, either. Not paying any attention to it since it was none of his business Gin slipped into a pair of dark-grey slacks and put on a pale green shirt, snatching a black one - he liked black on his boss - for Mister Aizen.
The question to whom those pieces of clothing belonged, kept nagging at him, though, as he padded towards the living-room, rolling his sleeves up.
Not only was the older man talking on the phone, he was also ‘laptopping’. Not a quick call, then. The blond reminded himself to be good on this special day and carefully deposited the fresh shirt on the armrest before he sat down next to Sousuke. Crossing his legs, he folded his hands on his knee and settled for watching his CEO’s hands fly across the keyboard.
“Yes, but I had it sent out last Friday, on the… 25th.”
His gaze lifted in time to see Gin walk in, and the CEO smiled briefly before dropping his gaze back onto the screen. He slid his finger over the touchpad, moving to open up another window and awkwardly type up something with one hand. Where was his headpiece when he needed it?
“I do not own USPS. I cannot be held accountable for their inefficiency.”
He reached into his briefcase and shuffled around until he found what felt like his earpiece. Retrieving it, he clipped it onto his ear and fiddled with his phone for a few seconds before pulling up his inbox on Lotus Notes.
“Yes, well. I am not God. How am I supposed to know where it is if I do not have the tracking number?”
Funny. He never noticed how high-pitched and nerve-grating Doug’s voice was.
“There is nothing I can do about that right now, since I am at home. I can, however, print out and send a fax of the invoice if you can give me the invoice number.”
Aizen noted the number down on a notepad document, and proceeded to pull it up through the company’s server.
“Will do… yes… goodbye…”
He sighed audibly as the printer downstairs churned out the invoice.
“Accountants can be so demanding…”
Gin’s hands twitched lightly when Aizen said he wasn’t a god. ‘Always so humble,’ he thought and giggled softly to himself. He twiddled his thumbs backwards and forwards, unlaced his fingers and let them dance across his knee.
Be patient. Patient.
Uncrossing his legs, the publicist slid into a sprawl and let his head fall back. He raised his arms above his head and stretched. Boredom was reaching out, ready to grab the blond and choke him. He could feel its spindly fingers curl around his neck when Aizen - awesome, brilliant, impeccable-timing-Aizen - hung up and… complained about accountants?
“Awwh, poor Mista Aizen.” Gin drawled and threaded his fingers through the soft hair at Sousuke’s nape.
“I keep tellin’ ya yer too nice to the minions. Ya should lemme deal with ‘em. No one would ever call again. Ya’d have more time fer fun things, ya know?” he added, smiling sweetly and leaned in to rest his chin on the other man’s shoulder.
No one would ever call again - and the company would probably collapse in a matter of two weeks. Ever since Gin had become the publicist for Hougyoku Records, there was a list of extra contacts Aizen had to liaise with since they refused to communicate with Gin.
“I am sure you can handle them, Gin, but what would I do with all the spare time?” he asked. He tapped Gin on the nose lightly, smiling.
He stood up slowly, the weight of Gin’s head slipping off his shoulder. He had that fax to send, and - oh, Gin brought a clean shirt for him to change to. Black again?
“A fetish for black shirts?” Aizen asked casually as he slipped out of his bloodstained shirt and unbuttoned the fresh one. He left the tie and the dirty one on the floor for the moment as he slipped into the black shirt, buttoning it back up.
“Right. Ya wouldn’t know what to do with yerself.” Gin sighed exaggeratedly and shook his head sadly. “Forget I offered.”
If the publicist had known about the additional workload his lack of manners had caused Aizen, he would have hunted those sniveling ninnies down and ripped them a new one for running to big daddy to cry their little eyes out. However, the publicist hadn’t noticed, or if he had, he didn’t care that some individuals, who made his head hurt, had ceased to call.
“It looks pretty on ya.” The blond shrugged lightly as he stepped around the other man and patted his ass affectionately. “Takes off that mild-mannered-nice-guy coating of yers that people are so fond of. ‘S kinda sexy.” Chuckling he slipped his hands into his pockets and strolled out of the living-room to take care of their dinner.
“’Allo, salade avec homard. Ready to fulfill yer purpose?” Gin chirped and brushed his fingertips across the edge of the plate to check the temperature. "Don't disappoint me, eh?"
“Oh? And what is this ‘mild-mannered-nice-guy coating’ of mine that you speak of?” the CEO asked, smiling almost innocently as if he was unaware of how disarming he could be - had to be, at times, in his line of work. “I have never been particularly relenting when it comes to work.”
Smoothing the shirt out, he followed Gin to the kitchen, eyeing up the display of food. A small part of him was still wondering whether Gin really made the entire dish from scratch, and whether this was edible or not.
“Alright; I’ll be back in about five minutes then. I have to send that fax.”
Aizen was halfway down the stairs when he called out to Gin.
“You should try on those new shirts in the wardrobe. They are your size but they might not fit you well.”
He picked up the printout of the invoice sitting on the printer and took a few steps over to the fax machine, surfing through his blackberry for a little while before finding the number to fax the invoice over to.
Gin saw that odd look Aizen had given the plates and wondered what that was all about. Aizen wasn’t worried that Gin was trying to poison him, was he? That’d be utterly ridiculous, not to mention quite offensive.
The publicist knew didn’t have any visible wow-that’s-so-amazing-skills and he tended to mess things up sometimes because he got distracted - or bored - but he would never mess with food. He was attacking a bottle of white wine with a cork screw when the other man suggested he try on the ownerless shirts in his closet. They were for Gin?
“What, now?”
Spidery fingers tightened around the slender bottle neck while the publicist’s other hand tried to get that damn screw into the cork. Meanwhile his eyes were darting around, searching for a nice solid edge that would chop off the bottle’s neck without making too big a mess.