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Life became pretty much what it had been after Utsuro died. Kagura and Shinpachi, who–to his surprise–had started growing faster and faster each day, had helped him numb the pain of losing his best friend and teacher on the same day (once again), helping him with the odd jobs he kept taking care of.
On Saturdays, he helped Shinpachi run his father’s dojo by training some kids who wanted to become samurai, and the rest of the week he did absolutely nothing unless work came to his door–which didn’t really happen that often. On the other hand, Kagura and his family had long made peace, so it wasn’t weird for her to take little trips with Umibozu and Kamui and come back with treats Gintoki really enjoyed.
Everything was pretty boring, no more drama than a bunch of Amanto wanting to mess around or some people wanting him to help with a missing cat, but it was comfortable.
But still, every time the day wore off and his head was pressed against his pillow, he could still see Takasugi in his arms, feeling how his body grew heavy in his arms, realizing how his gaze became blurry with the tears that were leaving his eyes as Takasugi’s life slipped from his fingers.
Gintoki hated that part of his day.
His mind was already dreading what was going to happen as he walked into his home, slipping out of his smelly combat boots and walking directly into his room.
Kagura was gone on another trip with Umibozu–which still made his belly churn with a weird sensation of jealousy and a need to protect the now-teenager–and Shinpachi was too focused on talking with his new online girlfriend to spend more time with Gintoki.
You know what? He takes back what he was thinking, his life was miserable and he was back to being all alone.
Gintoki knew he couldn’t blame the kids, they had a life and a family besides him and they were growing, so keeping them under his wing would only hurt them, but it still sucks!
The steps towards his room were heavy, he didn’t want to go to sleep, but it seemed everyone was too busy with their new lives to spend time with him. Even Katsura, who was known for doing absolutely nothing, started doing something after the death of Utsuro, could you believe that!?
Finally, he opened the door of his room only expecting his sad futon, messy and cold, as he never bothered to fold it, thrown on the floor.
But to his pain, that wasn’t the case.
The silver light of the moon seeped through his window, now fully open, and illuminated the room like a soft kiss; with that, a silhouette seemed to bleed out of his dreams (or nightmares?) and be plastered into his room.
Gintoki’s breath hitched, and he could only stare at the man sitting on the window.
Takasugi sat with one of his knees hooked up, his purple yukata dancing with the soft whispers of the wind, which only made him look more like a ghost. The pale smoke of his kiseru drifted lazily into the night sky and his eyes were fully closed, as if he was tired of waiting for him. But still, it was soft–the softest Gintoki had ever seen him in a while.
“You’re not real… Are you?” His voice came in a whisper, small and pathetic, fearing that if he raised his voice just a little Takasugi would disappear.
He could see how Takasugi shifted just slightly, smiling oh-so-dreamily, just how he used to do before the war.
“That look on your face does not suit you.” He said instead, bringing the kiseru to his lips and giving it a long drag, just before blowing the smoke in Gintoki’s direction.
Takasugi’s green eye was now fully open, staring solely at Gintoki with a shining gaze, making him feel every emotion at the same fucking time. Was it really him? He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but the smoke felt real; it smelled like the herbs whose names he could never memorize, yet his brain could clearly remember how the smell clung to his skin and clothes, how he always complained about it but never cared.
He took a step forward, but his legs felt as if they didn’t belong to him anymore. Is he breathing? He thought, reaching out with a trembling hand. He wanted, no, he needed to touch Takasugi, because if his hand passed through smoke, he could go back and keep being miserable at night, but if he touched and felt flesh…
His foot caught on the edge of his yukata, betraying him and making him fall straight to the floor with a dull thud that echoed through those four walls. Gintoki didn’t care about the pain, it didn’t even register inside his brain when he was already scrambling forward on his hands and knees, dragging himself until he was kneeling right under Takasugi, giving him a pathetic, desperate look of hope.
Gintoki had seemed to forget how to breathe properly, his breath coming in rapid gasps. He slowly lifted his hands, his hands hovering just inches away from the fabric covering Takasugi’s knee. He was terrified, truly consumed by the desire for him to be real and the pure horror of it being an illusion.
It felt ironic, how he lived hell through his whole life, fighting demons yet still shaking at the prospect of touching air.
“If you’re a ghost.” Gintoki choked out with barely any air left in his lungs. “Just leave… Please… Don’t do this to me. Not when I’m alone in this stupid house.”
But the figure didn’t vanish, nor did the smile that was plastered on Takasugi’s lips. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, bringing his trembling hand to Takasugi’s knee, pressing gently against thin fabric, feeling the warmth of skin that should be cold.
His eyes widened, and he could only grip the fabric tighter to anchor himself, his knuckles turning white as his head dropped to touch Takasugi’s leg with his forehead, feeling how a loud sob escaped his throat, finally leaving after years of holding it back.
It’s not a dream, it’s real, he’s real. The mere thought made Gintoki whimper against the purple yukata that rapidly grew darker with his tears. He couldn’t believe it, he really couldn’t, his hand flew to his arm, his nails digging under his skin to ground himself, or just to try to wake up from the dream he thought he was trapped in, but when the pain hit him, his whole body felt as if giving up.
Destiny had been such a bitch with him, but it suddenly felt as if he had hit the biggest jackpot in Pachinko.
Gintoki just stood there in what felt like an eternity, drinking in the taste of Takasugi’s warmth against his face. He could feel like breathing again, the lump in his throat finally settling down enough to allow him to talk without the feeling of choking, but when he opened his mouth to ask how, a silky, deep voice cut through the mess of his thoughts once again.
“You’re making a mess of my clothes, Gintoki,” His voice cut through every noise around them, silky and sarcastic, dragging the syllables in his name in the way only Takasugi did.. “I don’t know why I thought you could at least have some decency to offer me a drink before pathetically falling at my feet.”
His face snapped up when he heard the words leaving Takasugi’s mouth, surprised to hear him talk once again.
The man stared back at him with a small smirk, just as if waiting for Gintoki to realize something, his head tilting just enough for the moonlight to capture the left side of his face.
Gintoki’s hand moved instinctively, his thumb gently grazing against Takasugi’s temple, brushing away the bangs that covered his left eye. Of course, he expected nothing, just the same closed lid he got used to seeing, but as the dark strands slipped past his fingers, the lights that seeped into his room caught a second green eye fixed entirely on him. The breath left Gintoki's lungs in a sudden rush, and he found himself smiling. His teary gaze looked fondly up at the man on the sill. It felt absurd to feel happy for a silly thing like that, but at the same time, it felt as if everything he’d fought for had finally bloomed.
Takasugi didn’t pull away, instead, he leaned into the touch, his hand coming up to cup Gintoki’s. His hand was incredibly soft and warm, not the calloused hand that used to grip his sword as his life depended on it, but it felt familiar enough to feel like he was heading home.
“I’m real, as much as it pains me,” Takasugi whispered, the sarcasm dying out of his voice just to be replaced by raw vulnerability. “It seems not even Hell wanted me.”
“You sure took your time,” Gintoki muttered under his breath, the words finally coming back to his tongue. “You missed all the drama. My kids are all grown up now.”
Takasugi let out a huffed laugh, which only made Gintoki’s smile grow bigger at the familiarity of it. He reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding Gintoki’s and ran his fingers through his silver hair.
“I thought you preferred the quiet, you always got grumpy when Sakamoto was extremely loud,” He mumbled, his gaze dropping to Gintoki’s lips before meeting his eyes once again. “But the shadows in the streets told me you were quite lonely…”
“Maybe I was.” Gintoki simply replied.
And as much as Gintoki loved to argue, he couldn’t, not when he was pathetically kneeling in front of the man who tried to gut him alive multiple times, the very same guy who was now caressing his hair as if he was petting a puppy. He was doomed, and he knew it really well, so before Takasugi opened that sharp mouth to twist the knife he stabbed deep within his guts, Gintoki pulled his slender figure into a crushing embrace, hiding his face in the crook of Takasugi’s neck, so desperate to drown the rest of the world, so desperate to feel Takasugi’s pulse against his skin and nothing more.
The arms around that thin waist squeezed so hard it should be painful, but Gintoki didn’t really care, he needed to feel those resistant ribs, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and fuck, even the faint smell of incense and that weird tobacco he smoked that clung to his clothes and skin. He needed all of his senses to realize that Takasugi was right there with him, not just a memory his brain created to cope with the loss.
Takasugi let out a soft oof as the air was pushed out of his lungs, but his arms wrapped around Gintoki’s back anyway, letting his hands rest on his broad shoulders.
Gintoki loved how Takasugi felt against his body, always so small and delicate despite how dangerous he appeared to be. Of course, he would never say that out loud; he was better off having his body whole.
He pulled back just a little, just enough to look back at him, his hands sliding to cup Takasugi's face. His expression was incredibly soft, looking at him tenderly, and Gintoki couldn’t even laugh at him, because he probably was in the same situation, with his teary gaze fixed in the shadows of his face, his own eyes red and swollen from crying like a baby, but you know what? Screw it, he was exactly where he wanted to be. He leaned against Takasugi, closing the small gap he created and finally sealing their lips with a kiss.
And Takasugi responded immediately, because of course he did, his hand sliding from Gintoki’s shoulders to his nape to hold him there, leaning down the windowsill to meet him halfway.
His tongue slid easily into Takasugi’s mouth, the man always took everything Gintoki wanted to give him without much fuss, well, almost everything. Gintoki couldn't help but remember the few times he'd tried to shoot his release right on Takasugi's face, an offense that consistently earned Gintoki a swift kick to the knees and a freezing cold shoulder for three weeks straight. But right now, there was no fighting it. As Takasugi pushed his body closer, craving the friction, Gintoki shifted his hands from his cheeks down to Takasugi’s waist and with a firm tug, he hauled Takasugi completely off the windowsill, bringing him both down onto the dusty floorboards.
It wasn’t something he’d never experienced before, he had kissed Takasugi more times than he could remember, back in the Shoka Sonjuku when they were just little kids trying to imitate the grown ups, or in the Joui war when they just “wanted to relieve themselves from the stress”, and even when they were too mad at each other to express their feelings correctly, when they wanted to stab their sword against each other’s ribs and didn’t know what else could hurt the same but having an old lover and enemy giving kisses that would bruise for weeks.
The difference this time is that there wasn’t any excuse now, they weren’t students nor rebels anymore, they were just Sakata Gintoki and Takasugi Shinsuke.
Gintoki’s lips slid from Takasugi’s to his bony cheek, giving it a soft peck before pulling away. He looked painfully handsome like that, his cheeks were slightly flushed and the hair he pulled out of his face had covered his eye once again.
They sat in a quiet silence for a while, just staring at each other with eyes filled with unnamed feelings. It felt cozy, and if you asked Gintoki, he would probably say he’d enjoy doing that for the rest of his life.
But sadly, there still were a shit ton of questions he needed answered, so even if he didn’t want to, he still opened his mouth.
“I want to know how…” Gintoki broke the silence, his voice low. “Uh… You know… I saw you die, Takasugi, you were like, completely dead.”
Takasugi blinked at him, a tired, faint smile playing on his lips, as if he’d anticipated the question but still wasn't entirely sure how to articulate the answer. “The Altana is a fickle thing, Gintoki. It seems the universe wasn’t done with me, or maybe the Gods knew the peace of the afterlife wasn’t something I should enjoy after everything I did.”
“Stop trying to sound like a moody teenager, it doesn’t suit you anymore,” Gintoki muttered, his fingers pushing once again that stubborn fringe over Takasugi’s ear, uncovering his green eye once again. “If Gods existed they wouldn’t let all of this mess happen in the first place.”
Takasugi’s smile widened just a fraction of a second, leaning against Gintoki’s body until he was able to press their foreheads together. Gintoki closed his eyes, inhaling the warm breath that smelled faintly of that bitter tobacco.
“I spent most of my life trying to destroy things,” Takasugi whispered, his voice strangely soft and awkward. “I think… I’d like to stay here with you for a while and watch you grow lazier. Just if you let me.”
His hand slid from Gintoki’s neck, his thumb tracing the strong jaw before settling down in the line of his collarbone. It was weird to see Takasugi that vulnerable, and if he hadn’t pinched his arm tons of times before this conversation, he would definitely think this was a dream.
Gintoki shifted slightly, deciding to settle against the wall right beside Takasugi instead of being all over him. For just a moment he thought how much a pain in the ass would be if Kagura barged in just now, screaming how she’s back and looked at the position they were in, and how he would have to explain what happened before her umbrella was against Takasugi’s head, but he realized he didn’t care, because for tonight, the house belonged solely to the both of them.
“I just know you’re going to be a pain in the ass,” Gintoki whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of Takasugi’s ear. “I’m not sharing anything with you. Terrorists like you must have tons of money.”
“Sadly for you, I don’t have a single yen in my pockets,” Takasugi paused, looking down at his palms with a small twist on his lips. “It turns out the old sayings are true. You can’t take anything when you die, I just left exactly how I came.”
As soon as Gintoki heard that, he let out the most obnoxious, dramatic groan, throwing his head back against the wall with a loud thud. It couldn’t be! It felt like he lost his entire life savings in pachinko!
“Are you kidding me right now!? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Gintoki grumbled, crossing his arms around his chest. “After a shit ton of time, I finally have the Leader of the Kiheitai in my bedroom, stripped of any deadly weapon and he doesn’t have any money? I’m calling the Shinsengumi and living a comfortable life with the money your head will give me.”
Takasugi didn’t look bothered at all by his words, if anything, a soft laugh escaped his lips. “Instead of complaining about that, you should be reflecting on how your hospitality is non-existent. I’ve been sitting here for at least twenty minutes and you still haven’t offered me a damn drink.”
Gintoki stared at the man with his brows pressed together, profoundly offended by Takasugi’s words. He was an excellent host, thank you very much!
“Excuse me?” His tone grew sharp and annoyed. How could this guy have the absolute audacity to test him like this?! “You break into my peaceful house like a sick stalker and now you’re treating me like a servant? Drag your lazy ass to another place with pretty girls if you want to drink fancy sake.”
“I don’t want fancy sake, and I didn’t say anything about girls,” Takasugi replied smoothly, rolling his eyes at him. After that, his green orbs followed Gintoki’s, giving him a challenging smile. “Plain water would do just fine, but considering this is the Yorozuya, I assume you don’t even have tap water.”
“That’s enough! Our water is completely fine, you spoiled little brat!” Gintoki snapped, turning his back to Takasugi and pushing himself off the floor with an exaggerated groan. “I’ll make you some tea, but don’t complain if it’s too cheap for your fancy taste buds.”
“I already had your cheap tongue on mine,” Takasugi muttered behind him, which only made Gintoki stare at him with knives in his eyes before walking towards the kitchen, completely defeated.
His bare feet stomped against the cold wooden floor until he stepped into the dark kitchen. The room was barely illuminated by the distant lights of Kabukicho, just clear enough for him to find his old kettle, bringing it to the small, blue flames of the stove when he finished filling it.
And suddenly, everything was calm and silent again, just the quiet hum of the water heating up barely filling the space. It was the same exact routine he followed every single night to distract himself, but even with that, he still wondered if he made everything up, scared of turning his back and realizing Takasugi wasn’t there.
A faint rustle of fabric signaled Takasugi stepping into the kitchen, his feet barely making any noise. It felt somewhat reassuring, having the man wander around the kitchen until he leaned against the doorframe, watching Gintoki’s back.
Both of them stood in complete silence, Takasugi just staring while Gintoki searched for the tea leaves and his mismatched teacups, leaving them on the counter with a soft clink.
Gintoki realized how comfortable it was, just feeling the presence of his–whatever Takasugi was behind him, occasionally hearing the rustle of Takasugi’s yukata when he shifted his weight to the other side of his body, and he couldn’t help but wonder how his life would be with Takasugi in it. He imagined the sleepy face of the man, little yawns leaving his mouth as he walked into the living room, Shinpachi already waiting to train with him because Gintoki was way too lazy for that, or Kagura complaining of how Takasugi ate the last piece of meat.
Every scenario felt absurd and familiar for a man like Takasugi, but as the kettle started to whistle, Gintoki found that the thought didn’t feel too far away as he expected, and it felt really nice.
He lazily reached back and clicked off the stove, picking up the teapot and starting to pour the steaming water over the loose leaves. “Like what you see?” Gintoki was the first one to break the silence, a soft smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I do,” Takasugi let out a soft huff of laughter, the sound filling the silent room as his steps grew closer to Gintoki, happily closing the distance between them.
Gintoki didn’t know why, but the way Takasugi said those words made his cheeks color a pale pink. The honesty of his words was something he wasn’t used to–he never expected there would be a time when Takasugi was sincere instead of giving lies to hurt himself.
His thoughts subsided once again when Takasugi stopped right beside him, his hip resting against the counter just inches away. He didn't say anything else for a moment, just stood there in the dim lights of the kitchen, his green eyes tracking the scent of the green tea beginning to bloom in the pot.
Gintoki took his sweet time sliding one of the cups towards Takasugi, walking over to the pantry to pour insane amounts of sugar into his own cup. “There you have it, you don’t deserve any sugar.”
“I didn’t ask for any,” Takasugi murmured, his voice low. He wrapped his fingers around the warm ceramic, but he didn't lift the cup yet. Instead, he just tilted his head, watching the single-minded dedication Gintoki was putting into stirring his syrup. “I don’t want to die young for a second time.”
“Shut up, this is the only way I can relieve myself from stress.” Gintoki shot back, the spoon making a loud noise as he mixed the sugar with his tea, deciding to ignore the last part of his comment.
Because even if Takasugi was standing right in front of him, memories still lingered in the back of his mind, and it wasn’t something he felt he could joke about just yet.
“Good thing I didn’t come here for your hospitality, because it seriously lacks,” Takasugi whispered with his cup already halfway to his lips, taking a slow sip of the plain tea. He paused, letting the flavor settle on his tongue before sliding his gaze towards Gintoki, and he found himself staring at every movement.
Gintoki tilted his head as their eyes met, a soft, knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he slipped closer to Takasugi, just until he could barely feel the heat radiating from his body.
“Then tell me, what are you here for?” Gintoki surprised himself with how gentle his tone was, deciding to nudge his shoulder against Takasugi’s just to add a bit of triviality. “Because if you wanted some cheap tea, you could’ve just bought it yourself.”
“Stores don’t have you keeping me warm,” Takasugi replied smoothly, his voice low and calm, as if confessing such a thing wasn’t hard for him.
And the worst part of it is that Takasugi didn’t look away as he said it. His beautiful green eyes, both of them, kept staring at his face, just barely smiling as Gintoki’s breath hitched, knowing the power he held over him.
Slowly, Gintoki set his over-sweetened cup down on the counter behind him, the ceramic softly clinking against it. He wanted to tease Takasugi, to tell him those words were weird coming from him, but the words melted instantly on the tip of his tongue as his heart ached with yearning, desiring nothing but the man beside him. Instead, he moved until he was in front of Takasugi and leaned in until his silver curls brushed softly against his neck, inhaling the soft scent of herbs, taking the warmth of his body and feeling the firmness of his flesh.
Takasugi was still for a moment, maybe surprised, maybe just considering what to do, but after a moment, Gintoki heard once again the clinking of the ceramic against the counter, and the warmth of Takasugi’s arms wrapping around his hip, fingers curling into the fabric of Gintoki’s yukata.
Gintoki let out a low, shaky exhale against the skin of Takasugi’s neck, the breath fluttering softly over his collarbone. He buried his face deeper into that crook, his hand rising almost instinctively to cup the back of Takasugi’s neck, his fingers tangling into those dark purple locks. He held him tightly, as if double-checking that the flesh beneath his grip wouldn't scatter into dust or fade into another nightmare.
His body felt perfect against Gintoki’s, like puzzle pieces finally put together. Takasugi’s body was warm and soft, and alive, incredibly alive! He still couldn’t grasp the complexity of it, but for now he couldn’t do anything else but be egotistical and enjoy every single piece of him.
After just a couple of seconds, Gintoki pulled away just enough to look at the emeralds in Takasugi’s eyes, drinking in the sight of the man in front of him, with his gaze fixed on him and an expression he didn’t want to name, but seemed like pure fondness, or love, or whatever name he felt like putting.
And without a word, Gintoki closed the remaining distance–even if there wasn’t any to begin with–and tilted his head just enough to capture Takasugi’s lips in the second kiss of the night.
Takasugi’s body melted right away into his, as if he was already expecting this outcome, and parted his lips just enough to deepen the kiss, one of his hands slipping from Gintoki’s hips to rest firmly against the back of his neck.
His thumb traced the lines of Takasugi’s jawline, tilting his head just a fraction more just to pull him–even–closer, just as if doing so he could absorb the man completely. Takasugi didn't fight the pull, leaning into it completely, his fingers tightening in Gintoki’s silver curls, anchoring them both right there in the dim, warm stillness of the kitchen.
Just like the first time, his lips tasted like heaven, now combined with the bitter aftertaste of his unsweetened tea, devouring Gintoki with the same hunger as him.
He could feel Takasugi’s hand tightening its grip on his waist, clinging against his body as if his life depended on it, and Gintoki didn’t say anything because, why would he?
Gintoki’s hands flew from Takasugi’s jaw to his lower back, pressing his fingers into his clothed flesh. A soft, drowned gasp was pulled from the back of Takasugi’s throat, which arched his back as Gintoki’s fingers dug into his skin. It felt as if his body was on fire, tasting Takasugi’s lips wasn’t enough, he wanted to drown him, to take every single bit of the man and greedily take it for himself and just himself.
He didn’t stop even when their lungs gave out and the hot puffs of Takasugi’s breath hit his face, Gintoki kissed everywhere, from Takasugi’s cheeks, to his neck, to his collarbone, to his lips once again, every part where his skin was exposed a kiss was placed.
Takasugi couldn’t do much but throw his head back as Gintoki’s lips traced fiery kisses down the line of his throat, leaving pretty reddish marks for them to bloom.
“Gintoki—” Takasugi was the first to break the silence, his tone breathless and deep as Gintoki grazed his collarbone with his teeth. His grip tightened on his curls, and Gintoki wasn’t able to protest when he was dragged back up and his lips collided once again with Takasugi’s.
The kiss was bruising, sharp canines biting until the metallic taste of blood overpowered the cheap tea. Takasugi’s hand–the one that wasn’t holding Gintoki in place–slipped under the hem of Gintoki’s kimono, tasting the clothed, warm skin.
He met the violence of the kiss with his own greedy intensity, his hands digging harder into the small of Takasugi’s back, pressing him so tight against the edge of the counter that the wood groaned behind them. He wanted every mark, every bite, every inch of contact to burn itself into his memory so deeply that no nightmare could ever convince him this wasn't real.
When Takasugi finally pulled away to gasp for air, he didn’t give Gintoki an inch of space, resting his forehead against Gintoki’s, his breath coming in hot, ragged gasps against his lips. “Take me back to your bedroom.”
Gintoki could feel his breath hitching, a scorching heat pooling into his guts as Takasugi opened his mouth to sing those words with that sultry, low voice he did when they pretended to be lovers, looking directly at him as if he was his prey–and maybe he was.
He knew Takasugi wasn’t fond of being manhandled; he loved being in charge, fighting with nails and teeth every time he felt he lost dominance, but this time, having his firm legs wrapped around his waist as hot kisses attacked his throat, he found himself really enjoying Takasugi’s weight all over him, surprisingly light compared to other times.
The door of his bedroom was almost broken in half as he pressed their full weight against it, which earned him a sharp slap in the back of his head as Takasugi looked at him with daggers in his eyes.
But soon enough, Gintoki ended up with Takasugi sprawled on top of his futon with a half-full bottle of lube and two or three condoms–Gintoki didn’t count them, his brain was too mushy to think of anything else. Takasugi’s yukata was loose around his body, not covering much after being thrown around, moon-kissed skin seeping through the dark shades of soft fabric, making him look like an angel as the outside lights illuminated his figure.
His hair was messy and wasn’t covering his forehead, making him appreciate those delicate yet masculine features–the sharp line of his jaw soft in the pale glow, and those striking green eyes that burned holes in his soul.
The obi that kept Takasugi’s yukata closed flew across the room, leaving him only with his fundoshi covering his half-hard cock as purple fabric pooled under his body.
Everything about Takasugi was perfect, from his legs welcoming him to the slight arch in his back, inciting him to touch every part of him.
And Gintoki was greedy, he was sure about it, because as soon as he undressed Takasugi, his head flew between those silky thighs, pristine and lacking any scars.
“You sure took care of this body,” Gintoki said with a smirk, his fingers tracing every part of skin where he remembered scars were plastered on. “I don’t even remember the last time you felt this smooth. Maybe when you were that little rat-kid?”
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Takasugi rolled his eyes with annoyance, closing his legs in a firm grip around Gintoki’s head. “You sure know how to annoy me.”
Gintoki could only laugh at that as his hands slowly eased Takasugi’s legs to free himself from his grip. He always loved pressing Takasugi’s buttons, playing with him until he was on his knees begging for mercy as Takasugi roughed him up. He knew Takasugi secretly loved it–the man always engaged with his teasing even when it was easier just to ignore him, and he came to realize that won’t change even now.
His tongue lapped from his inner thigh to his crotch, feeling Takasugi’s cock twitch in interest against his tongue. He looked as if he was bored, just as he always looked when Gintoki was working himself off between his legs, but the slight flush on his cheeks and the dark engulfing his irises always gave him away.
“I hadn’t sucked your dick in ages, you surely miss Gin-san’s mouth,” Gintoki said with a lazy smile, and as he was about to place a kiss on Takasugi’s navel he was interrupted as the man pulled his head back until a deep groan left Gintoki’s throat.
“My God, Gintoki, just shut the fuck up,” Takasugi grumbled, and to Gintoki’s surprise, he was completely flustered.
Adorable. Takasugi was the most adorable thing when flustered–not that he saw him like that often,Takasugi stopped showing vulnerability from a very young age, so it was very rare for him to have his ears glowing in a pretty red.
He didn’t dare to say anything else, not because he didn’t want to, but to save himself from being kicked out of his own home, so he just distracted himself by taking off the last piece of cloth that covered Takasugi’s skin, leaving him completely bare.
Did Gintoki already say how much he loves Takasugi’s body? The man always presented himself like a reward instead of shying away. He was gorgeous, and Takasugi himself knew that damn well, carrying himself with the grace of a prince. How he looked; how he moved; how the curves of his body shifted on top of the silky yukata–everything he did felt as if he was conscious of the name behind him.
His hands traveled to Takasugi’s hips, holding him in place, tasting the soft skin with the roughness of his hands before his lips wrapped around the pinkish tip of his cock, moaning around it as if he was tasting the most tasty dessert.
Takasugi didn’t make much of a sound, he never did when his dick was being sucked, but the sigh that left his mouth was enough for Gintoki to bob his head until his nose bumped against his pubic bone, moving his tongue around the thick, pulsing veins of his cock before pulling it out of his mouth.
Gintoki looked up through his lashes, taking in every detail of the sight above him. Takasugi was still trying to maintain that cool composure of his, but he wasn't fooling anybody with the pretty flush of his skin, spreading from his cheeks to his ears, as his chest rose in shallow hitches, looking down at him with those green gems he had for eyes.
He gripped Takasugi's hips a little tighter, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh right above his hip bones to keep him pinned flat to the futon. Takasugi stayed mostly still, his jaw locked tight, refusing to give Gintoki the satisfaction of a plea or a loud moan.
So, Gintoki took his sweet time.
He dragged his mouth down Takasugi's length with agonizing slowness, letting his tongue trace the heavy vein on the underside before pulling back just enough to swirl around the wet tip. He didn't take him deep; he just teased him, breathing hot air over the hypersensitive skin until he felt Takasugi twitch beneath his hands.
A sharp, quiet huff escaped Takasugi's lips–the only sound he permitted himself to make. His fingers tangled into Gintoki's silver hair, tightening just enough to hold him there, but he didn't thrust up. He simply lay there, exposed and beautiful in the pale moonlight, enduring every slow, torturous slide of Gintoki's lips with a burning intensity.
“Look at you,” Gintoki murmured against the tip of his cock, letting the low vibration of his voice rumble straight into it. “Acting like you aren't completely enjoying Gin-san's hard work.”
He felt Takasugi stiffen, his hand giving Gintoki's hair a quick, sharp tug in retaliation, but Gintoki only grinned against his skin. He pressed a lingering kiss to the tip of his cock before wrapping his lips back around him, swallowing him into the heat of his mouth.
Gintoki wanted nothing more than to enjoy Takasugi, tasting him with the time they didn’t have when they were young.
He brushed the thoughts out of his mind as he hollowed his cheeks and slurped, creating a loud, wet noise that echoed through the room and made Takasugi sigh softly, which only incited him to take him messily. If Takasugi liked it that way, who was he to deny him that pleasure?
So Gintoki hummed against him, the low vibration trembling through Takasugi’s length as he deliberately picked up the pace just a fraction. He kept his rhythm steady, swirling his tongue over the sensitive tip before drawing him back in, taking him as deep as his throat would allow.
The knuckles of Takasugi’s hand turned stark white where his fingers remained tangled in Gintoki’s silver hair. He didn't pull away, nor did he push him down; he simply held on for dear life, his knuckles buried in those familiar curls as his hips twitched in a minute, involuntary shudder. His eyelids fluttered, dark lashes casting long shadows over his flushed cheeks while he swallowed down another desperate breath.
Gintoki lifted his eyes just enough to catch the sight–Takasugi, stripped of his sharp edges, undone on the futon, submitting to the agonizing pleasure Gintoki was pouring into him. Gintoki slid one hand up to cover Takasugi’s stomach, feeling the trembling heat of his muscles under his palm, and at that exact moment, he couldn’t help but realize how much he loved Takasugi.
It wasn’t like they were in the most romantic scenario, with Takasugi’s cock deep down his throat as Gintoki swallowed it greedily, he couldn’t exactly say he was in a position of declaring his love for the man, so instead, he decided to release him.
He didn’t waste a single second before crawling up Takasugi’s body like a starved man before pressing his full weight over him, hearing him huff at the unexpected action. His hand came to rest on Takasugi’s jaw, tilting his head back just to capture his lips in a hot kiss.
A surprised gasp left Takasugi’s mouth, not expecting Gintoki’s sudden outburst, but he still took it, just like he took everything Gintoki wanted to give him. Takasugi opened his mouth to the kiss, his tongue meeting Gintoki’s once again in a soft dance, letting him trace the silhouette of his teeth.
And when Gintoki finally decided to pull back, he rested his forehead against Takasugi’s feeling how hot his whole body was. His thumb softly brushed the hairs that covered his face away, stroking oh-so-gently the high line of Takasugi’s cheekbone.
“Takasugi, I want to make love to you,” Gintoki muttered against his lips, surprising himself with how mushy his voice came out. “Like, really bad.”
Takasugi’s eyes blinked open, heavy-lidded and hazy with arousal. A faint, exasperated huff of air escaped his nose, though he didn't pull away. Instead, he raised a hand, his long fingers trailing up to press against Gintoki’s temple, brushing a stray silver curl aside.
“You’re way too old to be saying you want to ‘make love’, to someone, Gintoki,” Takasugi whispered in that tone of his, saying his name like a soft purr as he looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky.
Gintoki knew how disingenuous Takasugi’s words were, not only because of the tone he used when reciting them, but also in the way his body followed him like a magnet when he kneeled once again in between his legs and started untying his own obi, smiling when those slender fingers wasted no time on taking his pale yukata off, tasting the fabric with the tips of his fingers before throwing it away, doing the same with his undershirt.
And Gintoki couldn’t help the low, fond chuckle that escaped him as Takasugi’s hands moved over him, greedy despite his slow, languid pace. The contrast was intoxicating–Takasugi’s mouth spitting fond scoffs while his body clung to Gintoki’s every movement, demanding his closeness without uttering a single explicit request.
It wasn’t long until Takasugi stripped him bare to his strawberry-themed underwear. He sat there for a while, staring at the ridiculous piece of clothing before looking back at him. Instead of making fun of him or straight up insulting him, his long fingers traced the broad expanse of his chest, the tips slowly tracing over the thick lines of old battle scars before settling right against the hard beat of Gintoki’s heart.
Under Takasugi's touch, Gintoki’s pulse was hammering like a drum, loud and completely undeniable.
“Were you acting like a tough guy to distract me from your shaking body?” Takasugi murmured, a faint, lopsided smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his eyes tracked the heavy rise and fall of Gintoki’s chest.
Gintoki didn’t bother himself with words, bringing instead the hand that was pressing against his chest to his lips and placing a loving kiss on the palm. Softly, Gintoki started pushing Takasugi until he was flat on his back once again.
He didn’t fight it, letting Gintoki’s gentle grip guide him down, as his hand, fresh from Gintoki’s lips, lingered near his shoulder, his fingers lightly brushing against his neck.
Gintoki leaned in close, his hot breath brushing over the sensitive curve of Takasugi’s ear as his hand slid down until his fingers rested light and heavy at the edge of his thigh.
“Oi, Takasugi…” Gintoki murmured, pressing a soft kiss on his neck before pulling away enough to look him in the eyes. “You want me to open you up? Or would you rather do it yourself?”
A flicker of genuine surprise crossed Takasugi’s face, catching Gintoki off guard for a second. It made sense, he could suppose. Back in the day, when they were younger and too damn impatient, asking for permission wasn’t exactly part of their routine, and even after the war, they just used to take what they wanted with a desperate hunger, not checking the bruises and blood they left behind.
For a long moment, Takasugi just stared up at him, his fingers still resting lightly near Gintoki’s neck as if trying to process the shift in tone. The faint flush on his cheeks deepened, spreading all the way to the tips of his ears.
Takasugi swallowed hard, turning his head slightly to the side to avoid Gintoki's direct gaze, though his hand never left Gintoki's skin.
“I can do it myself,” Takasugi finally answered, his voice surprisingly small.
His fingers grabbed the bottle of lube that Gintoki had set up beside the futon earlier, the tips of his fingers tracing the cool plastic for a while before popping the cap with his thumb.
Gintoki could only appreciate how he poured a generous amount of liquid onto his fingers, warming it up before reaching down between his thighs. His eyes flickered back to Gintoki, catching him looking at his movements with devotion.
“You look so gorgeous like this,” Gintoki found himself saying, admiring the work of art he had sprawled under him.
A quiet huff of air escaped Takasugi's nose, but the tension in his shoulders slowly melted away. He let out a slow, trembling breath and slid his slick fingers downward, opening himself up under Gintoki's watchful, adoring gaze.
Takasugi pushed two of his fingers right away, grumbling softly at the stretch. Gintoki knew Takasugi was a desperate man who loved a bit of pain, as much as he tried to hide it, most of the time he got a reaction out of the man when he inflicted pain on him.
“Don’t rush yourself, you idiot,” Gintoki whispered with no real bite, resting his hand and Takasugi’s hip and gently rubbing the skin in soothing circles as his
He could see Takasugi clenching his jaw, trying so hard not to make a single noise as he worked his fingers deeper. He was hypnotized how Takasugi’s hole swallowed those two digits greedily, making wet noises every time Takasugi slammed his fingers back inside.
Gintoki came to realize just now how horny he was, with his heavy cock twitching against the underwear that now felt too tight, just being able to watch helplessly how Takasugi touched himself. Why the hell did he ask Takasugi if he wanted to open himself up!? He was more than happy to do it himself!
“Shut up,” Takasugi choked out, his voice strained and brows pressed together as he managed to fit a third finger inside him.
That made Takasugi moan softly, who arched his back off the futon, as if following the pleasure provided by his own hand, and Gintoki had never been so jealous of a hand in his life like he was right now.
The thought was so absurd it almost made Gintoki want to cry, though what actually came out of his mouth was a pathetic whine. In no way in hell he was actually getting jealous of a stupid hand; hand that now was three fingers deep into Takasugi, pulling pretty sounds out of his mouth that Gintoki would have traded half of his soul just to hear.
Gintoki buried his face into the warm crook of Takasugi’s neck in a way to stop himself from staring, his teeth lightly catching the soft skin over his pulse point as he tried to keep his own mind from completely melting down. The wet squelch of those three digits working inside Takasugi echoed in the quiet room like a siren song, driving Gintoki’s own cock to throb so violently against the thin fabric of his underwear.
“Gintoki, ah–you’re drooling all over me,” Takasugi’s breathless complaint was accompanied by a faint laugh, as if mocking him for his thoughts.
He pulled away to check if it actually was true, and his eyes widened slightly at the shiny, wet patch glinting on Takasugi’s shoulder, feeling how his cheeks started to warm up as pure embarrassment pooled in his chest. Gintoki was completely mortified, how did he get so carried away by his own desire he forgot to close his damn mouth to keep himself from salivating?
Gintoki opened his mouth to spout some pathetic excuse–ready to start pointing fingers at Takasugi–but the words completely died in his throat. He was so utterly consumed by the heat crawling up his own neck and the humiliating sight of his own drool on Takasugi’s shoulder; he was completely sure the man was going to make fun of him for that, just like he did with the earlier things in the night, Gintoki could already hear him talk!
His brain didn’t even register how Takasugi’s fingers had already been pulled out, and were now working on hooking into the waistband of his underwear, and before Gintoki could process the sudden tug against his hips, Takasugi dragged the damp fabric down over his thighs in one smooth motion, stripping him completely bare.
The cool air of the room hit Gintoki’s skin for a split second before his heavy length snapped free, resting hot and throbbing directly against the smooth heat of Takasugi’s inner thigh. He hitched one pale leg slightly higher, his thigh shifting to drag Gintoki’s bare, aching length directly against his slick, heat-drenched entrance.
“Mhm–wait,” Gintoki wasn’t dumb–he knew what Takasugi was implying, and as much as every fiber of his body was aching to give in, his hand was already blindly reaching for the small foil packet he’d set out earlier.
Gintoki shifted his weight as he placed the condom in between his teeth and fingers, trying to rip it open at the same time he tried to keep as close as humanly possible to Takasugi, but before his teeth could tear through the plastic, Takasugi’s hand reached for it and dragged the condom out of his mouth, placing it with the others.
He was about to ask Takasugi what he was thinking, but the air was punched out of his lungs when he saw his expression. Takasugi was staring at him with those pretty green eyes of his who now were almost completely swallowed by the dark void of his pupils, looking at him not with just contained voracity, but with a trust he thought he’d lost.
“Don’t put it on,” Takasugi whispered, his voice cracking slightly with contained desire. “I want to feel you.”
Gintoki closed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose, pressing his forehead against Takasugi’s, his entire body shaking with the heat that was flowing through his veins. Every cell in his body was telling him to just sink in that sweet, rare trust Takasugi was offering to him on a silver platter, to greedily take every single thing Takasugi wanted to give him; he just wanted to drown in him.
When Gintoki opened his eyes again, he realized Takasugi’s gaze had never left him, waiting patiently for him to clear his mind.
“Alright,” Gintoki finally said with a soft sigh, his tone thick with profound affection.
He finally reached down to grab his leaking erection, which laid heavily in Takasugi’s inner thigh, sighing with the relief of finally having some friction on it and guided the tip until it was pressing firmly against Takasugi’s hole.
Gintoki took a moment just to appreciate the sight in front of him. Takasugi had his lips slightly open and his breathing was heavy, with his long, dark lashes fluttering over his flushed cheeks, waiting oh-so-patiently for him to finally move.
And when he finally pushed, he could feel a gasp leaving his throat as the softness of Takasugi’s heat welcomed him, sucking his cock deeper. The tight, velvety walls of Takasugi’s hole wrapped him tightly as he filled him to the brim, just as if his insides still reminded how he felt.
It was warm, incredibly warm, taking him fully and greedily clenching around him. Gintoki couldn’t feel more overwhelmed than he already was, the reality of the night finally sinking into him. He was no stranger, he was with Takasugi, his best friend–the guy he’d thought was dead.
Gintoki still wasn’t completely sure how he ended up in this situation, damn it, he wasn’t even completely if this was a dream or the real life, everything was just so surreal, intense and fragile that he was terrified if he blinked too hard, he’d wake up alone in an empty room with nothing but the cold Kabukicho wind pressing against his shutters.
His whole body froze right where he was, buried deep inside Takasugi, his trembling hands sinking into the futon on either side of his head. His chest rose and fell in ragged hitches as he stared down at the man beneath him. The ambient moonlight filtered through the shoji screen, catching the sharp line of Takasugi’s jaw, the dark, damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead, and the glistening track of sweat along his collarbone.
Takasugi was gorgeous, and real, he felt so happy he was real.
He could see Takasugi eyes fluttering open, that flame of pure arousal shining in the dim lights, staring at him as if he could read his whole mind. Takasugi didn’t offer him any words of comfort, instead, he reached up, his soft palm coming to rest flat against the side of Gintoki’s neck, his thumb tracing the jawline that had aged right alongside his own as he pulled him close enough until his lips brushed.
“You can move, Gintoki,” Takasugi’s voice was thick with desire, completely oblivious of Gintoki’s internal turmoil.
Gintoki didn’t bother answering—not that words would have done any good anyway, instead, he slid one hand up from the side of Takasugi’s head, his thumb pressing down gently to part Takasugi’s lower lip, and keeping his crimson eyes wide open, locked onto Takasugi's, he leaned down to capture his mouth just as he dragged his hips back. With a single, smooth pull and a heavy thrust back in, he drove the air straight out of Takasugi’s lungs, making him groan softly.
The slap of the skin against skin was obscene and wet, echoing off the wooden walls as it shattered the quiet of the night.
Takasugi’s entire frame jolted at the impact, a sharp, choked noise caught right in the back of his throat. His inner walls clenched with a desperate, white-hot friction, wrapping around Gintoki’s length so hard it made Gintoki’s vision tilt at the edges.
Gintoki didn’t yield an inch, he kept his weight pressed down against Takasugi, his finger still hooked in Takasugi’s lower lip, keeping his mouth parted so no sound of his would be drowned in his throat.
He pulled back once again, dragging his cock out of Takasugi until just his tip was pressed against his hole and snapped his hips forward once again, pulling a deep moan out of their mingled mouths.
The wet, heavy rhythm took over, slow and deep. Every thrust drove the air straight out of Takasugi’s chest, turning his quiet groans into ragged gasps against Gintoki’s mouth. Takasugi’s legs locked tight around Gintoki’s waist, his fingers digging into silver hair, clinging to him as if Gintoki was the only solid thing left in the world.
Gintoki’s hips dragged in an agonizingly slow pace, taking his out cock just enough to push all his weight into slamming up into Takasugi, which only made him twitch helplessly under him.
Takasugi’s grip in Gintoki’s hair tightened until it bordered on pain, dragging Gintoki even closer, if that was even possible. A broken, trembling sigh fluttered over Gintoki’s cheek as Takasugi finally pulled his mouth free from Gintoki’s thumb, his head rolling slightly to the side against the futon.
“Gin… ah, Gintoki—” Takasugi rasped out, his voice completely stripped of his usual tone, moaning Gintoki’s name in a way that made his cock twitch. His green eyes were blown wide, glossy with unshed tears of sheer sensory overload as he stared up into the dim shadows of the ceiling, lost in the waves of pleasure.
Leaning down, Gintoki pressed a sequence of open-mouthed, bruising kisses along the sharp line of Takasugi’s jaw, down the hot column of his neck, right over the frantic pulse at his collarbone. His hands slid beneath Takasugi’s lower back, lifting his hips just an inch higher to alter the angle, before driving back in with a sharp, rolling push that hit direct and deep into his prostate.
Takasugi let out a high, shattered gasp, his back arching completely off the futon, his toes curling as his entire body shuddered around Gintoki’s length, holding him trapped in between his legs.
“God, you sure feel good...” Gintoki choked out, his voice a ruined, pathetic whimper against the hot skin of Takasugi’s throat.
Takasugi couldn't reply. His mouth remained parted in a silent, breathless pant, his throat working as he tried to swallow down the overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over him. Tears finally spilled from the corner of his eyes, tracking down his temple into his dark, damp hair. His fingers, still tangled in silver curls, dragged Gintoki’s head down, his brow furrowing in a look of sheer, agonizing bliss.
Gintoki pressed his face deeper into the curve of Takasugi’s neck, drinking in the sharp, heady scent of sweat and herbs, feeling the erratic flutter of Takasugi's pulse right beneath his lips, sucking the warm skin as he moaned with the energy of a pathetic dog before pulling away to glance at his tearful green eyes, dazed from the constant abuse of his prostate.
The view was fatal for Gintoki, who had little to no rational thought left in his mind, just the greedy desire to take Takasugi and make a beautiful mess of him.
His hand slipped from Takasugi’s hips down the slick plane of his stomach–where he could slightly feel the motion of his cock sliding swiftly into his insides–before firmly wrapping his palm around Takasugi’s neglected cock. The sudden contact of Gintoki’s rough fingers made him twitch helplessly under him, tearing a deep groan from his throat.
Gintoki didn't give him a second to adjust as he began to stroke Takasugi’s sensitive cock, his thumb swirling over the reddened tip to coat him in his own precum. At the exact same moment, Gintoki dragged his hips back and decided to match the movements of his hand with his hips, rolling them just like a rutting dog, hitting Takasugi’s prostate dead-center with every motion.
Takasugi’s moans started to fill the room–loud enough to seep through the open window–his head thrashing against the futon as dark hair clung in damp strands to his forehead and cheeks. Every roll of Gintoki’s hips was devastatingly thorough, driving deep and grinding mercilessly against that swollen, sensitive spot until Takasugi was practically sobbing under him.
“Agh…! Fuck!” Takasugi cried out, his voice raw from exertion. “I’m—“
He could feel Takasugi’s legs clamming around his waist with a crushing strength as his orgasm tore through him. Hot, white lines of his cum spilled over Gintoki’s hand and onto his own flat stomach, his inner walls violently contracting and pulsing around Gintoki’s length in frantic squeezes.
Gintoki let out a loud whimper as Takasugi’s hole milked the last of his own restraint. He buried his face in the crook of Takasugi's neck as he drove in one final thrust, bottoming out completely as his own release hit him like a truck. He poured himself inside, filling Takasugi to the brim with hot spurts of his own cum, his broad frame shuddering violently over the smaller figure.
His whole body collapsed on top of Takasugi, ignoring the soft oof that left Takasugi’s lips as he was trapped under his heavy weight. He could feel his ears ringing and his head spinning, dizzy from the orgasm he’d just experienced. When was the last time he’d even touched himself? It must’ve been a long time ago if he was that weak after it. His bones felt heavy under his skin, feeling the exact same way he felt whenever he came back home after a fight: he was exhausted.
He was about to close his eyes, ready to fall asleep as he felt gentle fingers rubbing soothing circles on his back, pushing him out of state and to try and push himself off Takasugi.
“Mhm, wait,” Takasugi interrupted, pressing his palm on the small of his back and his voice small and deep. “I want to be like this… If you want.”
Gintoki looked at Takasugi for a while, contemplating his words and smiled, who was himself to deny him that?
“If you feel I’m too heavy you can just tap me on my shoulder, is that okay?” Gintoki mumbled under his breath, pushing a dark strand out of Takasugi’s face.
Takasugi just nodded softly–knowing he was strong enough to push men twice his size and weight off him–and pushed Gintoki’s face back to his neck, letting him nuzzle there. His whole weight settled right back over him, letting himself over Takasugi’s frame.
Gintoki didn’t bother to try and move himself again, letting his whole body go completely limp and relaxed as Takasugi kept rubbing his back, caressing him just like an owner relaxing with its puppy.
Fuck… He could be like this forever, was a thought that crossed his tired mind before submitting into the tiredness of his body.
And that was the first night after a long time where he was able to sleep before waking up.
—
His whole body hurt just as if he’d just fought with thousands of men, making a groan the first thing he let out as he woke up, feeling the heaviness settle into him as he sat on his futon.
The window of his room was closed–when did he even close it?–letting the darkness consume the whole room, leaving him in the void of it.
Takasugi was missing, that’s for sure; the coldness of the futon was enough proof of it.
So… It was a dream after all? He couldn’t help but wonder as he pushed himself up and felt the soft fabric of his pajamas instead of–whatever he was supposed to be wearing.
His steps were heavy as he walked out of his room. He was annoyed, he damn sure was! He hated how he was stupid enough to believe Takasugi would actually come from the dead and—
Gintoki’s train of thought stopped as soon as he saw the very same man in his kitchen, just finishing brewing some tea.
Takasugi didn’t even bother turning around as the sliding door rattled shut behind Gintoki. He simply raised a small, ceramic teacup to his lips, taking a slow sip of the steaming liquid before speaking into the quiet room.
“Good morning,” Takasugi rasped, his tone lazy.
Gintoki opened his mouth to say something, but the words never came. Takasugi was wearing his very own yukata, secured lazily around his frame with–also his own obi. It was a little big on him, hanging low over his collarbones so the marks he left the night before were completely exposed.
His chest tightened, everything felt too domestic, too intimate.
“It looks good on you,” Gintoki mumbled, his voice thick with sleep as he closed the small distance between them.
Overwhelmed by the sudden, suffocating warmth in his chest, Gintoki reached out, his hands sliding up to frame the back of Takasugi’s neck. He leaned down, his eyelids heavy, intent on pressing his lips against Takasugi’s in a lazy, lingering morning kiss.
But a cool, firm palm slapped flat over Gintoki’s mouth, stopping him dead in his tracks an inch away.
Gintoki blinked, his crimson eyes widening in utter confusion as he stared down at Takasugi through his own messy silver bangs.
Takasugi didn't look flustered, nor did he pull his hand away, his eyes simply flicked sideways toward the low table near the doorway, a faint, amused smirk playing on his lips.
“Your kids are here,” Takasugi murmured softly, bringing his gaze back to Gintoki.
And Gintoki could feel how his entire body froze with that sentence
He slowly turned his head to the side, his gaze tracking toward the corner of the room. Sitting quietly at the low table, wide-eyed and completely frozen were Kagura and Shinpachi. His whole body straightened over the gaze of the two teens as he stepped away from Takasugi, who looked more than amused by the whole situation.
But soon enough the four of them were sitting in the couches of the living room–Kagura, Shinpachi and Gintoki sat with their backs straight, untouched cups of tea sitting right in front of them while Takasugi sat with one leg on top of the other drinking his own tea in silence, enjoying the whole thing.
“So,” Gintoki started, his voice deep as if he was going to lecture them.
“You two had sex,” Kagura interrupted him, glancing at Takasugi with her brows furrowed. “Wasn’t he dead?”
Gintoki choked on air, a dry, violent cough hacking up from his throat as his stiff posture completely collapsed. He slammed both palms flat against his knees, his face flushing a furious, dark crimson.
“Kagura! What kind of obscene nonsense is popping out of that bratty mouth of yours?!” Gintoki yelled, his voice cracking horribly. “Who taught you that word? Was it the gorilla? It was him, wasn't it?!”
“Nobody taught me, Gin-chan, I have eyes,” Kagura said flatly, pointing her finger directly at Takasugi’s exposed collarbone. “He was walking like his hips were broken and he has all that.”
Shinpachi slumped so low into the cushions his chin was practically touching his chest, his hands covering his face in utter despair. “Please, I am begging both of you, stop talking, I don't want to visualize any of this. My eyes are burning with my soul.”
“I tried to explain, but you were too fast to point your parasol at me,” Takasugi said calmly as he set his cup with a soft clink.
—
Gintoki would lie if he said it was an easy conversation to have with the screaming teens, but finally, they ended up understanding what happened, and ended up agreeing with Takasugi joining the Yorozuya.
It happened slowly, having to gain both Kagura and Shinpachi’s trust after being on opposite sides of the battle before. At first, all he did was wander silently around the house, talking only when the two of them were speaking to him or to ask simple questions, but as the time passed and the kids grew fond of Takasugi, Gintoki was able to see the evenings where Takasugi and Kagura spared together, and the weekends where Shinpachi asked Takasugi to teach him how to play the shamisen.
He never expected his life to go that way, with Takasugi by his side, growing old together in a quiet life that felt surreal compared to their bloody youth.
Gintoki would sit on the wooden veranda, a half-eaten parfait in hand, watching Takasugi patiently adjust Kagura’s grip on her wooden sword or correct the angle of Shinpachi’s hands on the shamisen's neck. The same man who had once vowed to destroy the world was now teaching a kid how to pick a string without snapping it, his soft voice offering quiet corrections that lacked all of his old venom.
Sometimes, he would find Matako wandering in the shadows, her hands resting hesitantly near her holsters, her face cast in a heavy, biting sadness as she stared up at the Yorozuya sign. She never stepped inside. She never knocked, nor did she ever call out for her former commander, and Gintoki knew better than to approach her. Takasugi always knew when she was there but he never went down to meet her, and she never pushed her way in.
But after a long, long time, Gintoki finally had something he could call his, and expected that, this time, nothing would take it away from him.
—
and takasugi adopted a white cat and called him shiroyasha. end.