Disclaimer: No, I do NOT own Bleach (of course). If I did, I would be a genius by the name of Kubo Tite. Oh well...
A/N: This is by no means my first fic I've worked on (think it might be my second, though), but my first is still unfinished & waiting for a friend to do the latter half of it, as a collaboration. Look forward to it!
WARNINGS: Spoilers for anything past Soul Society arc (duhhhh), Gin: bit OOC, Ulquiorra: very, very OOC. (Everyone else…deadpan humor as always! Except Grimmy. Who may/may not be accurately portrayed while drunk.)
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Aizen Sousuke, formerly one of Soul Society's finest, yawned and stretched. It was yet another fun-filled Sunday morning in Hueco Mundo. He took one look out the window at the stagnant scenery and almost wanted to go back to sleep. Honestly, when Gin and Tousen were suggesting places to set up their base, they could have picked a decent vacation spot, or at least somewhere with a nicer view. The endless nighttime sandland with the occasional shrub or dead tree, always illuminated by the same crescent moon, had seemed homey enough at first. But now it was just old.
He poured himself his morning tea from a fresh pot one of the servants had just brought in—real tea, he wouldn't go anywhere near that Lipton nonsense. As he settled into his stone chair—heavy on the artiness, not so much on the comfort—he had already decided what kind of day it was going to be.
…A Makeover Day.
Not for him, of course; he managed to look impeccable with hardly any effort at all. His hair stayed the way it was with no gel whatsoever—all the shinigami had seen this with their own dumbfounded eyes as the three traitors had left for their current residence. All Aizen needed was a quick run-through with one hand each morning, and even the little droopy strand he was so fond of would stay in place all day.
Besides, if for some odd reason he had a catastrophe with his appearance, he could always cast Kyouka Suigetsu on everyone in Las Noches.
Not that he wanted to stoop so low, that is.
No, Makeover Days were when he lovingly attended to the outfits, hair, and sometimes makeup of several of his subordinates. Usually this was due to a bizarre mix of boredom and paternal love. Sometimes it was because he was having a personal crisis (others binged on chocolate, he gave makeovers. Go figure). When this was the case, everyone seemed a bit reluctant to consult with Aizen-sama.
He couldn't imagine why.
Taking a sip of tea and leaning back, he pressed a button on his chair that instantly turned on the massive, full-color holographic screen in front of him. There was only one man who could aid him in his grand endeavor today.
He needed Ichimaru Gin.
Simply by willing the screen to show the whereabouts of his silver-haired compadre, it was so. He happened to find the man in his own quarters, practicing extra-awesome-evil-super-demonic grins of death in front of the mirror.
Noticing after a second or two that he was being watched, Gin turned around hastily to the left wall of his room to see Aizen's magnified and rather unamused-looking face on his own high-resolution display. "Ehh, g-gomen yaa, Aizen-chaan," he drawled sheepishly. "What'd you pop up like that for, anyhoo?" A sweatdrop rolled slowly and uneasily down his face, frozen into the last expression he had been testing out.
Aizen put a hand on his forehead and let it slide down his face. "I'm not going to bother asking what that was about. Because I've decided already that today will be—"
"—aa, a Makeover Day, ne??" Gin finished eagerly. "…Ya wouldn't happen ta need my help then, would ya? Huh? Huh?" His face had lit up with—well, as much expression as one can have when one's eyes are constantly closed and mouth constantly smiling.
"Why, right you are," Aizen replied, contented. He could always put up with Gin's antics, solely because of the fact that he felt like Gin was one of the only people who truly understood him. Not his manipulative, megalomaniacal self, of course—everyone and their mother knew that by now.
He meant the kind of bond they shared when Gin was the only one whom he could have obsessive fangirlish chats about Will & Grace with. Where would he be without him?
"I'd like to begin work as soon as possible," he continued. "If you could meet me in my chambers in—"
"Done and done, commander," Gin replied playfully, giving a cheesy salute. "I'm on my wa--- AAHHH!"
"…Gin?"
"NO WAY!! NEW SHIPMENT? BROWNIE BITES?!?"
There was a crash. Aizen wished he could see what was happening outside the screen's field of vision.
"Uh, sir, you might want to be more cau….u…sir?!?!"
Another crash. "Mine! MINE! THEY'RE ALL MINE!! A-HAHAHAHAHAHHH!"
On second thought, there were some things Aizen would rather not have to sit through. He heaved a sigh and switched the screen's focus to his first candidate as he thought, I should have anticipated something like this…perhaps it's best I do this on my own, anyway.
"Stark," he called gently.
"Zzzzz."
"Sta-arrrk…"
"Mmphlhum'nahuhh?"
"STARK." He sent a wave of his own reiatsu into his narcoleptic subordinate's room.
Somehow, in under two seconds flat, Stark managed to stand up straight as a board from where he'd been collapsed like a stagnant blob on his divan. "Y-yeah, Aizen-sama? I mean, yes??"
"I've got a game for you…"
"…uhh..??"
"Guess what day it is."
"Whaaa…oh. Oh God…"
And again in under two seconds flat, the incredible sloth-Espada had already plopped back down and was in deep-REM sleep.
A mild twitch developed in Aizen's left eye. It looked as if no one was keen to cooperate today. He was starting to feel so dreadfully undervalued…
After all, he was God, for God's sakes! (Well…he would be before long, if all went as planned.) What more did they want...?
Ah, well, at least he could be confident that Stark was consistently getting enough beauty sleep. He just wished it would have a positive effect on the man's severe lethargy. Like a normal person. But then, Stark wasn't normal. Wait...there was no hope of finding 'normal' around here in the first place.
Giving another sigh and gathering up his hopes, he moved on to a new contender swiftly.
...Bah, normal was for sissies, anyway.
Next time...Aizen plays twisted mind games with two of the Espada you all know 'n love! (Well, definitely know at least; the rest is a matter of taste) Who will walk away emotionally scarred for all time? Who will defy the laws of physics? And who in the world has a hangover at mid-day? All this and more...in chapter 2!
A/N: Poor Aizen, off to a shaky start...Well, please go on to the next chapter or two (or three...etc.) and review if you can find it in your hearts[sniffles
Hint: If there's any big words you don't get, look 'em up. This is kind of being written through an Aizen's-brain-scope-lens-filter-mabob, and you know he wouldn't use low-brow vocab... (to him, which is normal-speak to us :P Those darned high-and-mighty evil masterminds!)