AN: No clue where this came from…should be sleeping, or working on this damn research paper that is literally half my grade, s

AN: No clue where this came from…should be sleeping, or working on this damn research paper that is literally half my grade, sigh. Anyways, enjoy this strange little one-shot.

Matsumoto Rangiku was exhausted. Between whipping the new recruits into shape earlier that day and the guys convincing her one more round wouldn't do her any harm, she was ready to crawl under her covers and sleep for a week. She was distracted as she slid her front door open and didn't notice her uninvited guest until she stepped into the room.

"What are you doing here?" She absently slid the door shut as her other hand trailed to her zanpakuto.

"Ah, Ran. Is that how ya greet a friend?" Gin was leaning beside her open window, his ever-present smirk firmly in place. "I even brough'cha somethin'." He nodded towards the sake bottle sitting on her low table. A crooked silver bow was tied around the bottle's neck.

Rangiku raised a skeptic eyebrow. "Hn." She reached tentatively for his reiatsu, surprised to find his reaching for her. She blinked as an array of emotions flitted through the connection. Anxiety hid beneath amusement and longing hid beneath arrogance.

His face was as unreadable as ever as he stepped forward and lifted the bottle from its place. "It's ya favorite." He offered the bottle with a little shake.

She sighed and crossed the room to take the bottle. She snorted once she felt the weight. "It's half gone."

Gin shook his head. "Nah, it's half full."

"Ever the optimist."

He shrugged and tilted his head to the side. "I try."

Rangiku sighed and fiddled with the bow on the sake bottle. "Why are you here?"

His smile dimmed and he turned his gaze to look out of the window. "Do you 'member that night?"

"You will have to be a tad more specific," she said dryly and set the bottle on a shelf.

"The night of the ice storm."

She tensed. "I try to not remember. Not one of my favorite memories."

Gin turned back from the window and she was startled to see the edge of his crimson iris peering from between his lashes. "It's mine."

"Yours?" she was confused at what he meant.

"My favorite memory. Tis a shame I can't 'member it too well."

Rangiku let out a humorless chuckle. "Well you were nearly unconscious for most of it."

"Tell me."

Rangiku started to refuse until she felt that sudden stab of longing filter through his reiatsu once again. Sighing, she crossed the room to the open window, well aware of his gaze on her back.

"It all started because you were a stupid brat, " She started.

"Me? A brat? Much less a stupid one…" Gin scoffed teasingly.

She mock glared over her shoulder at him. "I'm the one telling this story."

Gin held his hands our placating. "Ah, alright. So I was being a stupid brat…"

She nodded and turned back to window. "Yes, you were being a stupid brat and decided to take on ten grown men with nothing but that rusted little dagger."

"I beat 'em din' I?"

She didn't even bother turning around. "Yes and got beaten into a pulp for your troubles. I knew it was time to move on, so I loaded your half conscious ass on my back and headed for the woods. I figured we could get far enough into the woods that the friends of the men you killed wouldn't be able to get to us and once you healed some we would move on to the next village.

But then it got colder." She shivered even though the night air was warm. "I could smell the rain on the wind and knew if I didn't get you to shelter before the storm hit…" she trailed off.

"I don't know if it was luck or fate that we stumbled upon that shack. I had a feeling that whoever was enjoying the warm fire I could see flickering through the cracks wouldn't be to happy to see us, but I was out of options. I tucked your dagger under the sash at my waist. Trying to hide it I guess, in the hopes that whoever opened the door would just think us poor urchins and have pity on us."

She sighed. "I knew the second the door swung open that we should've tried our luck out in the storm. The man was scarred, lean and smelled strongly of sake. I recognized the look in his eyes." She shuddered. "Lust. I couldn't outrun him, not while carrying you. I wouldn't leave you and I wasn't going to let him…" She chewed her bottom lip in agitation.

"Of course not." She jumped slightly as his voice ghosted by her ear and he snaked his thin arms around her waist. She caught his expression out of the corner of her eye as he rested his chin on her shoulder. Gone was his signature smile to be replaced with a contemplative expression.

She felt an emotion akin to affection filter across their connection. The warmest emotion she had felt from him since he became captain. She swallowed thickly.

"I was out of options. When he grabbed my arm I slid you off my back and reached for the dagger at my waist. He was either too drunk with sake or lust but he never saw it coming." She brought her hands up to hook her fingers around his wrists. "I didn't have any other choice. It was the first time I ever took a life," she said quietly.

"You could've dropped me an' run."

She scoffed. "Right. Leave you to be killed…or left out in the cold to die from the storm."

She caught a small sincere smile out of the corner of her eye. "That's why it's my favorite memory."

"What?"

A barely audible sigh blew her hair and his arms tightened around her. "Ya coulda run and left me, but ya din' do that. Instead ya killed fer me. Nicest gift anybody's ever given me."

"You have strange taste is gifts. Though you did give me a half empty bottle of sake."

"Half full." Gin reminded her.

"Ah yes, half full."

"Did I ever thank ya?" Gin asked, his joking smile back.

Rangiku laughed softly. "No, I don't think so."

"I will." He pulled his arms free and his presence disappeared from behind her.

She didn't turn around to watch him leave. Once she was sure he was gone she left her spot by the window and headed for bed.

Three weeks later when the negacion box cut off his reiatsu from her senses she couldn't tell if the words he spoke were sincere or mocking. His mocking smile haunted her dreams and she couldn't help but mutter, "You never said thank you, you bastard," each time she woke.