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Aizen didn't get drunk, or if he did he didn't show it.
That didn't stop Gin from trying, time and again, to see what a drunk Aizen might be like. He knew on some level he would never succeed, but this would hardly be the first hopeless mission he'd undertaken in his life.
It wasn't a completely unproductive use of his time, anyway.
Because while alcohol seemed to have no effect on Aizen, it certainly had an effect on Gin. And it was only when he was drunk that he could bring himself to kiss Aizen.
One hundred years was a terribly long time, especially when so much of it was spent in biding. When there was so little to do besides wait for Aizen's plans to come to fruition, and for the chance to bring his own blade to Aizen's throat, Gin had had to find ways to entertain himself throughout the years.
He was never shy about propositioning the man. Gin was dead sober the first time he slid into Aizen's lap and asked to be taught something new. More often than not, his mind was clear and unadulterated when he took Aizen's hands and led them to his own body.
Enticing warmth, or any genuine human reaction for that matter, from Aizen was like wringing blood from a stone; it always left Gin awash in a sinful sea of pride when he succeeded.
But even Gin had a set of morals he lived by.
Those morals allowed him to entertain himself with Aizen, to seek relief from boredom in Aizen's indulgent embrace. They didn't hold him back from availing himself to the pleasures he knew Aizen could bring him.
But they wouldn't allow him to offer Aizen his heart.
They wouldn't allow him to want Aizen's kiss.
Until he was drunk enough to forget where they would inevitably end. Until his mind was consumed by enough of a fog to allow a hidden truth, a deeply buried desire, to surface.
For every drink he poured Aizen, Gin poured one for himself. And when he'd had enough, Gin would find his gaze dipping towards Aizen's lips.
Aizen, of course, never kissed him first. Aizen was never the one to initiate anything with him at all. He didn't always indulge Gin, either. Though it was rare for him to rebuff Gin entirely, he would sometimes only sit and remain unresponsive as Gin made his advances, watching on with a look of thinly veiled amusement.
But sometimes, perhaps even often, Aizen let Gin kiss him and would even kiss Gin back. Aizen's answer was at times only a lazy, half-disinterested sort of kiss that left Gin wondering why the man bothered to indulge him at all. Other times, Aizen pulled Gin into his lap and drank the aftertaste of liquor from Gin's tongue, like it was sweeter than any drink that could ever fill a cup.
They didn't talk about these drunken kisses, just as they didn't talk about the secret truths they likely both knew. They didn't talk about the fact that Gin didn't truly drink with Aizen to see Aizen drunk.
For Gin, it was easier that way.
Lies crumbled much too easily when spoken aloud.