A/N: I have more fics on Archive of Our Own
Disclaimer: I don't own Golden Kamuy


His hand moved slowly along the wood of the gun, feeling the grain of the wood, down to lightly rest against Sugimoto's fingertips, one hand near the small, black piece of metal that would blow everything away.

"Don't put your finger there until you're gonna shoot," he murmured, the hand moving up to cover Sugimoto's wrist, then forearm, curving around his muscles and sliding back down again. "Lay it straight against the wood instead."

The hand moves down to press against the top of Sugimoto's pelvis through his clothes. He can't feel much warmth through the layers of fabric, but Sugimoto's face is tell-tale red, and Ogata presses in a little closer. "Wouldn't want you to shoot it off at a bad time."

"O-oh, thanks." says Sugimoto, the hand which isn't his still there, flat against his pelvis, lighter than Ogata's thoughts. The flush having spread to his entire face now, with a slight tint at the neck. "I'll try."

"More advice..." Ogata pauses, looks at him through his eyelashes, then wets a finger in his mouth; curving his tongue to soak it, a slow, silent removal which makes the finger glossy with spit. Still that unwavering gaze towards Sugimoto. "Heed the wind via a wet finger, though only experience will really help."

"Really.." is said, and Sugimoto takes one step back, eyes to the trees and snow-covered branches and sparkling frost — not to Ogata, who likewise moves away just one step back. "I'll try."

Ogata laughs a little, knowingly, the stubble at his chin clearly there below his lips, porcelain-coloured skin; he tucks the gun away into his belt. And disappears into the forest, footsteps gradually ceasing to be heard.

Sugimoto returns to the fire, covers his face with two hands and sits down next to Shiraishi.

"Ha, hahah." laughs Shiraishi nervously, expression between fear and amusement, crying without words: don't kill me, don't. "Beautiful weather, eh?" but he'd clearly seen, and the unrelated words don't last long: "I promise I won't say anything. I didn't see anything. Just... do that further away from camp next time, in case Asirpa sees, alright buddy?" Eyes looking everywhere but Sugimoto's face.

"...What're you talking about?" asks Sugimoto, lifting his head from his hands with a serious glint in his eyes: the reflection from the fire.

"Nothing, nothing! I'm cool with it! Haha, that Ogata, he doesn't know how to flirt without a gun, eh!" responds Shiraishi, sweat rolling down his forehead and sticking to the back of his neck, putting his hands out in front of himself as if they would be protection.

"...Flirt?" Sugimoto's voice lilts up at the end of the word, a question. "You think he was flirting with me? It wasn't just my imagination?"

Words taking on a strange sense of urgency before bubbling into nervous laughter, amusement winning over the feeling of danger: "You're that clueless? Wow, I never thought I'd actually pity Ogata! He rubbed you off there, didn't he? It's way beyond flirting, Sugimoto!"

"Ru...?! He didn't rub me off! What're you saying?!" Sugimoto's words are hushed, glancing around, turning his view. The others can't be seen.

"Then he wants to." Shiraishi's laugh grows, and grows more high-pitched. "Oh, that Ogata! He really needs a trip to the brothel, eh! A-and maybe you do too, buddy!"

"But he's never acted like... that before." The shame is slowly falling away from Sugimoto's mien, though the words fall out like that of a young girl, the red still there and dusting his cheeks, thoughts pressing in, trying to think about past actions but nothing worth of suspect can be found.

"Weeeeell he had his gun right? That big pacifier? Ogata certainly seems like he'd be unable to flirt without it!" Shiraishi's breath heaving, holding his stomach, "Or did he find another sea-otter and eat it in secret?" Laughing, laughing. "Let's set aside some money for him to "visit" a few places in town from now on, wouldn't want him to get too needy and start to hold me in the night..."

"You think you're that great?" The blush has gone from Sugimoto's scarred face and he stands, the rubber of his boots squeaking slightly. "Anyway, I'm going now." he informs suddenly.

"Don't do it where anyone'll see you!" says Shiraishi loudly, and rolls over to warm his back by the fire, starting to pick his nose. Sugimoto walks away, boots sounding the crunch of frost-bitten leaves breaking against the soles, and starts to to look for Ogata, who'd already been walking away for far too long.