[Log] Aizen, Gin

[lcpdragonslayer]

Title: I'm Not Jealous - Really...
Characters: Sousuke Aizen (lcpdragonslayer), Gin Ichimaru (formative)
Timeline: June 6 2007
Rating: G
Summary: More 'unorthodox' tactics are required when trying to coax Gin Ichimaru.

Gin had spent the day running across town. Emergency after emergency had come tumbling down, leaving his nerves frazzled and his body drained by the end of the workday. He’d considered going back to H. Records but he’d already been so close to Aizen’s place that it was easier to just wait there instead of falling asleep on the big man’s office couch.

The publicist was sprawled out on the floor in front of the TV surrounded by rumpled up burger wrappers and empty cartons. He was watching some documentary about some kind of red furred wild dogs. They had chased a deer into a lake and the top dog was swimming after it, trying to drown it while the rest of the pack stood by the shore and watched.

“Go get it!” he cheered for the dog and popped a green M&M into his mouth, munching away happily.

This was the second or third documentary and the blond briefly wondered where Sousuke was but knowing the workaholic tendencies of the other man, it was safe to assume that he was still at work.

'Work' for a CEO entailed a myriad of duties - from sitting behind a desk and doing paperwork, answering e-mails, phone calls and faxes and holding meetings to rushing about from one side of Manhattan to the other, or flying halfway across the world every month, to entertaining clients and having 'business' talks over 'business' dinners when in reality the 'business' component only lasted for a few minutes and the rest of the time was spent on idle, light banter.

On this particular night, however, there was a cause for celebration for one of the companies that had been formally acquired by H. Records, and that somehow involved dragging Sousuke Aizen to some sort of nightclub/karaoke bar. Narrowly avoiding what must have been the most wonderful opportunity to get on stage and sing by having to attend to a non-existent phone call, instead Aizen found himself having to laugh at painfully tasteless comments and jokes, and playing idly with the hair of the woman who made herself comfortable poured over him.

Just when the night felt as if it would never end, the party was over. After a long kiss and graciously turning down the offer to spend the night at a hotel, Aizen found himself at the backseat of a taxi on the way home.

He sighed quietly, covering his eyes with his hand, leaning back in the seat for a moment.

What a long day.

Gin clapped his hands when the dogs successfully drowned and devoured the deer. Animals were wonderful. The next programme was about arctic foxes.

“Why hello there, kinsmen,” the blond chirped, shifting around a little to relieve the pressure on his left hipbone. He eyed the sofa cushions but decided that he was too lazy to reach for them.

A skinny hand dove into the bag of M&Ms and came up with mainly blue ones. The publicist knew that they didn’t taste different from the other colours but somehow… Maybe if he closed his eyes, he could make himself believe they weren’t blue?

Sighing softly, Gin popped them all into his mouth before he rested his chin on his folded arms and squinted at the screen. He would never admit it but he kind of missed the sound of typing and quiet talking, the humming of the fax machine - the usual background noises Aizen generated when they watched TV ‘together’.

Paying the fare - and awarding the unsuspecting driver a generous tip - Aizen disembarked from the taxi and crossed the road to his townhouse. He reached into his pockets and fished out his keys, shuffling through them until he found the one to his door.

Sliding the key in, he twisted it and pushed the door open, almost stumbling in, using the doorframe for support. Retrieving his keys, he stepped out of his shoes and pushed them over to one side before closing the door behind him.

Sounds of the television running echoed down the stairwell. Must be Gin. Did he tell the blond that he was going to be out late tonight? He could not remember at the moment.

Not paying it much mind, he headed up the stairs, his movements a little slower than usual. It would be nice to just head straight for the bedroom and catch what little sleep he could before waking up early for that conference call tomorrow, but since his publicist was here, a second round of entertaining would probably be required before he could even think about hitting the sheets.

Reaching the top floor, Aizen tossed his keys over the kitchen counter, stifling a small yawn.

"Still up, Gin?"

Rolling onto his back, Gin sat up when he heard Aizen return and stretched before he got to his feet. No more lying on hard floors, he decided and rubbed his hipbones as he padded towards the other man’s voice.

“Was watchin’ animals ‘n stuff,” the publicist explained with a sheepish grin. “Kinda lost track of-”

Pale blue eyes widened when they took in the CEO’s appearance.

“Whoa, ya look half-dead!”

It wasn’t very tactful but it was true.

Half-dead? Really? Aizen did not really have the time to go and appraise himself in the mirror, nor did he bother to tidy up his appearance since he was already home.

"It's been a long day," he said, though how much of an explanation that might have been was debatable. "I don't remember if I informed you about what was happening today..."

"That penguin documentary again?" he asked, leaning to the side and tilting his head a little to see what was on television.

It had been a long day, but apparently the CEO’s had been even longer than his publicist’s.

“Nah, this one’s ‘bout…” Gin stopped to take a peek over his shoulder and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear unconsciously. A white-furred vixen scurried across the screen in search of food.

“Arctic fox.” Turning his head back again, blond closed the distance between them. He was about to slip his arms around his lover’s waist when he noticed a small red smudge on the older man’s collar and a strange scent. It smelt vaguely familiar. He knew that scent. He just couldn’t place it.

Gin stretched his lips into a broad smile and inhaled deeply. ‘Come now, don’t be shy~,’ he thought and it obliged. Le Feu D’Issey, his former favourite escort’s favourite perfume. What the fuck?

“I was out all day,” he said, letting his eyes graze the red smudge on white cotton again. The smile turned a tad sharper. “Running around to fix certain things. So what happened?” The intensity of his usually soft drawl had lessened considerably, making the publicist sound more like the East Coast native that he was which was slightly menacing.

Arctic foxes... very interesting.

Unfortunately, not interesting enough to hold Aizen's attention for too long. The desire to sleep was draining his energy and after what he was hoping would be a short conversation with Gin.

"Was in the office for a while, and then I had to attend a celebration party." He was sure he had informed Gin of this - or at least, informed his secretary to inform Gin's secretary of it.

"It ran on for far too long, involved far too much alcohol and had too much stupidity. You were fortunate not to have been invited."

“Fortunate? I guess… Alcohol and stupidity kind of go hand in hand.” Gin hid his hands, which were twitchy and in the process of balling into fists, in his pockets and shrugged nonchalantly. The smile was beginning to hurt his jaw but he kept it on.

Tell me more, sweetheart. Tell me that a woman bumped into you, soiled your pristine white shirt with her filth and splashed that open bottle of perfume she was carrying all over you. Lie to me.

“You should shower and get some rest. Don’t let me keep you.” Stretching the grin impossibly wider, the publicist turned away abruptly and stalked towards the pile of rubbish on the floor. He knelt down and shoved the wrappers into boxes and then crumpled them up.

“When the snow melts, however, and nature awakens again, the arctic fox’s protective colouring turns against it,” the voice on TV said and the blond glared at the screen.

“No really? Thanks for the info,” he muttered. “The hell am I doing?” Cleaning could definitely wait. He was watching that documentary, after all!

Gin dropped everything and got up, slumping belly first onto the beanbag. Like he cared about food wrappers and cartons and random whores and cheating bast-

Aizen was somewhat glad that his publicist was understanding and being relatively considerate at the moment.

Or so he thought.

Gin's emotions and temperament were the most difficult to discern because of that perpetual smile on his face, but after spending enough time with the blond, Aizen had learned how to differentiate between the virtually non-existent genuine smiles and the oh-so-painfully-fake-it-hurts type of smile, and was able to fit everything Gin displayed on that scale.

The current smile on the blond's face was dangerously close to the latter end of the scale.

The fact that Gin had not bothered to physically shove him off - or touch him at all, for that matter - only supported the cues that were already present.

And now he was slumped on the lime green beanbag. It surely was a sign.

The CEO sighed. Not this again...

"Gin..."

Gin had no idea why he was so annoyed. So Aizen had a little fun with some woman. It shouldn’t be that big a deal. So what if Aizen had a monopoly on every single minute of Gin’s free time and it didn’t go both ways? There was a huge difference between being an owner and being owned.

The blond knew that.

Still, the thought of somebody capturing Sousuke’s attention and interest - things that the publicist secretly considered rightfully his and his alone - made his gut twist itself into painful knots. Wrapping his thin arms around the protruding part of his lime green seat, he stared stoically at the TV while he tried to dispel the irrational feeling of jealousy eating away at him.

Not mine. Not mine. Never mine…

“What?”

Go away already.

Setting everything down, Aizen shrugged his jacket off and threw it over one of the seats by the kitchen counter. He unbuckled his watch and left that on the counter as well.

The TV was on and the documentary was still running, but the moving images and the narrator dictating the events were all just in the background.

The CEO crouched down behind his publicist, and laid a hand on the top of his head, ruffling up a little bit of blond hair.

"Don't be like this..." Aizen did not say it, but Gin knew that if he could have it any other way, he would have.

Gin was determined to ignore Aizen but when he felt a warm hand on his head, he automatically leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. The other man sounded even more tired than he looked and it sent a pang of guilt through the blond.

Inhaling softly, the publicist turned around on the beanbag. “I just…” He folded his hands in his lap and stole a glance at Sousuke from behind his bangs. “I don’t like... Ya spoilt me too much. Sorry. I’m stupid.” A soft sigh escaped him.

The blond stared down at his own hands, wishing that this whole ordeal didn’t affect him as much as it did. “Next time… tell me to go to my place or that yer outta town or something so I can pretend not to know?” He lifted his gaze and smiled weakly. “Please?”

"No - never."

He ruffled up the blond's hair a little more before lowering his hand to his side.

"I wouldn't lie to you if I could help it, Gin. I want you to know that."

He straightened with a sigh, flexing his knees a little before stifling another yawn.

"I'm going to take a shower - enjoy your documentary, and feel free to join me in my bedroom when you're tired enough to want to sleep."

No? And not only ‘no’ but never?

“Oh… Well, this is really flattering and makes me feel mighty special but that’s not the point, Sousuke!” Gin almost yelled, feeling dizzy from the sudden blood rush to his head as he pushed himself out of the beanbag and grabbed Aizen’s arm to prevent him from leaving.

“When we started this, ya said I could get anythin’ I wanted. That all I had to do was ask ya fer it. I’m askin’ you to lie to me! It’s not that big a deal and it’s not something that’d put you or me in a difficult position - we do that every day!” he hissed, his voice quavering a little and glared at the older man.

“‘Sides, it ain’t really lyin’ when I know yer lyin’.”

The blond knew that somewhere during his outburst - or maybe even before that - logic had taken a wrong turn and vanished. It wasn’t that unusual but it certainly made things messy - eh, messier.

Reaching out to grip Gin's chin, Aizen leaned over and pressed his lips against his publicist's, sucking lightly against the blond's lips, running his tongue over the small gap.

The CEO pulled away, though his grip only tightened on Gin's chin, holding it firm, holding it still. His voice dropped to a low, almost sultry murmur - the kind he only really used very sparsely.

"Know your place, Gin. Don't ask me to do the impossible."

He smiled in a manner that mimicked the blond's, and slipped his hand back into his pocket. Making his way over to the stairs, he made his way back down and towards his bedroom.

"Good night, Gin," he called out.

"Don't stay up too late."

Whatever temporary insanity had seized Gin was driven out instantly by a firm grip, a kiss and the tone of Aizen’s voice. He stood motionless, speechless and a just a little aroused at the centre of the living-room and stared at the other man’s retreating back.

The publicist exhaled softly and flicked his tongue across his bottom lip before he sucked it into his mouth. It tasted faintly of Sousuke and only Sousuke. Running a hand through his hair, he laughed softly at himself.

Yer such a stupid brat.

Pale blue eyes glanced at the mess on the floor. He’d better clean that up before he went to bed and while he did that, he could think of a good way to apologise come morning. The documentary was almost over, it seemed, and the dirty brownish summer fur of the arctic fox was really ugly.

Gin switched off the TV and tidied up the room, wondering what on earth had driven him to behave like an imbalanced jealous jerk. A small frown creased his forehead as he wandered down the stairs and stepped into the bedroom.

The shower was still running when the blond sat down on the bed. He wasn’t jealous, was he? It wasn’t something he carried around in his small repertoire of emotions because it seemed so useless. People in love got jealous and he’d never…

“Oh, fuck...”

Hands made quick work of the buttons on his shirt as Aizen stepped into the bathroom. It was probably better to throw the shirt away; it was... quite dirty. Everything else went into the empty laundry basket.

The feeling of nice, hot water pouring down through his hair and over his skin was welcome and refreshing. He lowered his head and sighed quietly, droplets of water dripping from the tips of his hair.

The sound of the shower echoing through the bathroom drowned out everything else, just as the water was soothing and calming, and the CEO had to force himself to get out of the shower before he fell asleep in it.

He stepped out and back into the bedroom with his hair semi-dry and a towel wrapped around his waist.

"You're already here. Nothing else to watch on TV?"

Gin started, looking a little pale around his nose, when Aizen entered the room and shook his head lightly.

“Nah, snow melted ‘n the fox turned ugly ‘n the hamsters did the same ‘n there was green grass so they could hide better ‘n then ‘twas over,” he offered as an explanation and fumbled around with the string on his sleeping pants.

“They weren’t pretty anymore…” The blond lifted his gaze, plastering a small smile onto his face and looked at his… his…

“Sorry ‘bout earlier. I wasn’t…” Gin paused and nibbled on his lower lip. “I didn’t mean to sound like some crazy woman. So, sorry...”

Aizen shuffled through the clothes in his cupboard as he listened to Gin's... interesting explanation. It at least was concise and sounded like it covered all the main details, except... where did the hamsters come from?

Picking out a set of pyjamas without much deliberation, they were tossed onto the bed and the wardrobe door was closed.

"You don't have to be worried about not being pretty," the CEO said, picking the top up and shaking it out, undoing the buttons.

"I think you're beautiful at any time of the year."

He threw the shirt on over his back, slipping his arms through the sleeves and doing the buttons back up again.

"And you don't have to apologise. Attending those are not exactly the highlight of the job - not for me, anyway."

“Huh, coulda fooled me,” Gin muttered under his breath.

Aizen thought he was beautiful…

What that had to do with anything was beyond the publicist’s understanding. It was nice to hear it, though, and also kind of weird.

“I ain’t worried about not bein’ pretty,” Gin said pertly, annoyed with how much the compliment pleased him, and scowled at Sousuke from behind his hair. “The fox in the documentary turned ugly’s what I said. ‘N don’t talk about me like I’m some paintin’ or worse some woman ya need to sweet-talk.”

Grabbing the pair of pyjama pants, he threw it at Aizen, growing more agitated again. “‘Cause I ain’t! I don’t harbour any foolish fantasies ‘bout you ‘n me ‘n a shiny future ‘n I ain’t gonna leave - s’not like I could even if I wanna which I don’t - until ya decide you’ve had enough of me ‘n dump me ‘n it’ll be fine - just don’t fire me, please, or if ya do, write me an excellent letter of recommendation, otherwise I ain’t gonna get to work ever again.”

The publicist knew he was rambling and not making much sense but he felt the need to talk - not to Sousuke but at him - without saying what was really on his mind, hoping that would ease the pressure on his chest.

“We’re jus’ havin fun times, you ‘n I. S’not anythin’ like love…” Gin’s voice broke, putting an end to his babbling. Running a hand through his hair, he cleared his throat.

“S’not love, right? It can't be... just fun…” he added softly, sounding and looking like a small heap of misery on Aizen’s bed.

The CEO listened quietly to everything Gin had to say, even if some of it came out disjointed. It made sense when the gaps were filled in, when Aizen thought about it seriously. He knew what Gin was trying to say, he knew what was bothering the blond - he knew exactly what his publicist meant and was thinking, though his responses may indicate otherwise, though he might not always say what the blond wanted to hear.

It was not something that particularly applied to the blond, but it seemed to have more profound effects on the both of them.

The towel became a lump on his head as he moved to put his pants on.

"It does not have to be love, if that is what upsets you," Aizen said, though that was probably not what Gin wanted to hear. "This is anything you want it to be, Gin. I can give you anything and everything you want within my means, and you can accept or refuse my offers. You can walk away at any time, and I will not stop you, even if I wanted to."

"What you mean to me is irrelevant in your life; it is what I mean to you that matters. I would like to keep you by my side for as long as possible, but we do not always get what we want in this world, in life. This very moment is what you make of it - nothing more, but certainly nothing less."

He stopped fussing about with his clothes and his hair, if only to regard Gin with his serious expression for a while.

"I can only tell you that I do love you, and that I do enjoy every moment we spend together, regardless of what we happen to be doing at the time, and I would like for you to stay around for as long as possible." There were many things Aizen had done and sacrifices that he had made that would not have happened if this was simply a fling. That and he would never toy with Gin's emotions - not like this and not with Gin, anyway.

Although Gin was fixated on the drawstring of his pants again, he was paying close attention to Aizen’s words and soaked every single one up like a dry sponge. Although, what he’d expected and what was said didn’t match at all, he felt some of the tension ease away.

It was a relief to hear Sousuke say that he, the publicist, was still free to choose, that he wasn’t expected to just suck up and choke on whatever was tossed at him. The reality was, of course, that there was very little the blond wouldn’t go along with, but it was good to know that he could say ‘no’ and walk should he ever feel the need to.

The blond looked up when his CEO paused. Sousuke Aizen, most powerful man in the music and soon entertainment industry, in his pyjamas and a towel lump on his head was certainly not something other people could see on a regular basis. Gin did.

Pale blue eyes widened a little when Aizen went on. How could he say those things like it was as easy as breathing and not sound like a complete sap? If Gin tried that… well, he’d better not try.

Sliding off the bed, he padded towards the older man and wrapped his arms around Aizen’s waist, resting his pretty but apparently completely screwed up head against his lover’s shoulder. He didn’t know what to say except maybe ‘thank you’ which seemed so trite.

“I like it here,” Gin finally said.

Aizen continued to ruffle up his hair with the towel as if they had just been talking about work, business or something that was completely unrelated to their relationship.

He knew fully well what he could do - he knew Gin's limits and how much he could squeeze, bend and play with the toy until it broke. The idea of making someone submit, though, of taking away their free will and making hollow eyes enamoured with every aspect of him - it was not feasible for the CEO.

Love meant nothing if there was no free will, if there was no matter of choice, if there was no room to defy or breathe.

It was why God gave men free will, and Aizen was no different.

He wrapped his arms around Gin loosely, returning the hug, rubbing his hand over his publicist's back a little.

"Stay as long as you like, then."