"So~~~usuke--" Summon issued from within the Captain's chambers behind layers of sliding doors and translucent paper mounted within each cell of the larger panel. With enough light seeping through, one can make out a vague shadow behind the paper doors. Until the doors slide open, and Shinji is lying on the couch, sideway, surrounded by and buried in packages of chocolates and homemade cookies, some of which balanced on his person not unlike how one would balance pieces of treats on a pet for it to "stay" or "wait." It is unclear how the Captain of the Fifth managed to stack them all onto himself, all by himself. A mystery that will be left unsolved.
He watches Sousuke in the doorway, from his clearly self-inflicted predicament. "Congrats, Sousuke, yer fans were outta control again this year! I took the liberty o' hidin' them tributes outta sight t' avoid any emotional damage t' our less well-loved squad mates. Yer Welcome. An' please take responsibility."
He gestures again at the various packages; miraculously does not cause any of them to fall from his person. There are many. And, of course, with enough of them separated from any notes or cards that might've originally been attached, it would be much more difficult now to discern if any of them comes from the captain himself at all.
( a very late answer to a valentine's ask. )
he knows the calling drawl of his name very well, especially when it comes out from that lilting voice. it is enough to make him follow the summons from where he's finally slipped back to the office, having vanished early this morning with whatever paperwork he could grab before he promptly disappeared. every year, on this day, he makes a point of vanishing, going off somewhere that was never disclosed to quite simply hide. it was a tradition and barring those times when he was being forced to remain in the fourth as a result of getting between shinji and whatever attack was aimed at him? he was ever in the office at any other time.
the pile of chocolates and cookies and whatever other confectioneries have been made and created is not a surprise for him, not since this tradition started. he was sure that he'd shocked shinji when he had first disappeared on that day, some years after he had become his lieutenant. before that point, he had had to suffer through confessions and gifts of such nature, letters and more that would be given to him with hopeful eyes beaming at him, hopeful emotions written on those faces. how many had proffered their confessions to him over the years?
there'd even been some who would suggest they meet somewhere, haikus well written and some more blatant; the poetry was more often what some chose when it'd gotten out that he liked calligraphy and poetry alike, though. yet always, always, those who would gaze at him with hope in their faces, hoping that he would accept them and what they yearned for. it had been like this since his days in the academy. he had given out a few kisses here and there, attempting to see if that would help with the way his mind worked, his life worked -- but his eyes had always been elsewhere. they had been on a spill of golden hair and he had followed that vibrant banner that had so called to him. he had chosen to follow him. and he was the one that aizen wanted. he always wanted him.
but it wasn't their eyes that he wanted to turn away from. he had never asked for this to happen, year after year. he'd been left awkwardly floundering his way through rejections when he'd been in the academy but now he'd become much smoother about it. all the same, it was the one day every year when he would disappear. it was not exactly a secret either that he would find some place for himself and hide there until the day was more or less over. he had never asked shinji what he thought of it, of these gifts from his admirers as his captain put it. every year there always seemed to be a bit more. every year there were always more cards, more candy, things of that nature. it was a good thing, he thought ruefully as he did every year, that he was known to be rather frugal. white day was perhaps the one time of year where he had to actually open his wallet up more than a little.
whatever the case, he moved towards the couch as he regarded his captain and then looked slowly over the cellophane packages, the bundles wrapped in cloth, those that were without names attached; he preferred the anonymous gifts the most. those were ones that comforted him. he would quietly pass out the excess chocolates to members of the squad as he always did to those in the rukongai, taking such treats to those who could eat the food and enjoy it. he'd never asked his captain if he knew aizen did that either. oh yes, the finer chocolates would likely go to his quarters to be tucked into his small fridge or kept in an icebox of some kind, but aizen did not find any reason not to keep those that he liked. and he would, gladly, let shinji pick through the small hoard of goodies to take whatever he wished too.
❝ i feel like this pile grows larger every year, ❞ he murmured quietly. ❝ perhaps i should make some efforts at doing something to take the shine off of everyone's eyes where i'm concerned. ❞ was that a faint trace of sarcasm biting into his words? it might have been. it'd been years upon years since this had begun and he wondered absently just how shinji had done that. probably started at his feed and worked his way up along his own body, he was sure. that was how he would have done it.
all the same, he shifted a few packages aside with his feet and moved to crouch so he could meet those eyes while a smile curled his mouth before he was slipping a hand into his sleeve and pulling out a package of his own to casually plant a small bag able to fill those narrow hands atop shinji's head while he smiled to himself. it was simply done, the treats perhaps made by himself -- or he'd opened his wallet to actually get these and had worked on keeping them fresh some time ago. perhaps somewhere on the other side of the seireitei, but then again -- gossip could flash quickly through these streets. whatever the case, he was careful to balance the bag.
no, he did not want to see the man turn his eyes away. aizen had ever gently turned down those who made confessions to him, had learned to gently shake his head. somehow, even when he let those who were interested in him down, he could ever manage to make them smile and still hope but accept that he simply could not do so. duties to his division, he said. loyalty to his captain. how loyal he was and he could not forego his duties right now. it was not unheard of for shinigami to be married, no -- but aizen was not ready or willing to commit to such things at this point in time. and ever did he gently let it be known.
yet he was still very sure that that pile grew larger each and every year.
❝ happy valentine's, hirako-taichou, ❞ he murmured before he was leaning in to steal a small kiss from him before the older man could make a move to dislodge what he'd covered himself with. and if his hand slipped to snake beneath those layers to press one large hand, warm as could be, upon shinji's chest as if to brand him -- that was his own doing and purposefully so.