Prompt: "Don't Play With Your Food!" from calm_isolation from the drabble meme requests.
Word Count: 487 (yeah, I *know* I'm pathetic about the length of drabbles)
Summary: Gin gets breakfast in bed from Kira
A/N: Set before the Soul Society Arc, just a little... Gin-style fluffy(?)ness. This has nothing to do with my other fics. I wouldn't normally pick Gin, but he decided this one was his story. *grins* So thanks, calm_isolation
Gin hid desperately amid the fissures in the rock, trying to pull the darkness over him, when Aizen's fingers slid in through the rock itself. It must have been an illusion like everything else in his world. The cruel hands closed around his arm and hauled him into raging lava. The heat seared his lungs, his throat. He fought trying to scream, but unable to make a single sound.
Gin woke with a hard start, breath short and fast, hands clenched around sweat-wet sheets.
The room was golden with sunshine, a simple vase of flowers, and a worn, warm coverlet, quilted from old kimono silks of all colors. He could hear Izuru whistling in the kitchen, and the scent of pancakes. The blond so loved his pancakes.
Gin breathed out a slow, shaking breath, the aftermath of the nightmare still running through his blood. He was still caught, still trapped, but he didn't have to take Izuru down with him.
Sometimes he hated how straight, how proud, how innocent Izuru was. Izuru had been brought up by loving parents. Gin had been raised in blood and death by Aizen, and even as Gin's own moods and murderous humors twisted at the dutiful blond, some core part of him prayed that the young man would never actually break has he'd broken, kill as he had killed with a smile, the blood sticky and hot against his hands and face.
He shuddered quietly under the covers, and then heard footsteps padding gently into the bedroom and the smell of pancakes grew sweeter. Gin sighed and peeled back the covers to see pale blue eyes watching him.
"Breakfast in bed," Izuru stated and waited patiently as Gin hauled himself up blearily and put a pillow behind his back before he sat up. Izuru then placed the tray across Gin's hips and sat down and watched him.
Gin picked up the fork and poked a little at the pancakes, not feeling hungry yet after the flood of fear from his dream.
"Don't play with your food!" Izuru said, mock sternly, and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached over, plucked the fork from Gin's fingers, cut a bite, and then brought it gently to Gin's mouth.
Gin, feeling foolish, opened his mouth and took the bite and chewed. The pancakes were sweet with syrup and rich with eggs, and suddenly hunger roared to life in his stomach. He grinned up at Izuru who looked a little uncertainly back at him. He took the fork and ate a few more bites before feeding one to Izuru as well.
"Heya. Thanks," he said. "Thanks for tha' sweetness, Izuru."
Izuru stared at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted a second head. Gin shrugged. "Get me some morea that syrup, right?"
Gin shook his head as Izuru went off again. No, no way he'd be taking his little bit of sugar with him when he went down his own road to hell. No way.