Aaaahhh…I should be studying for finals right now…I should be working on my other fanfics right now…I should…ugh…uuuugh…uuuuuuuugh…uuuuuuuuuuuuuugh…
Fuck school.
…For now.
Disclaimer: GinTama is owned by Sorachi-sensei, and I make no profit from writing my fantasies.
Ah, I'll correct mistakes later…too lazy…
…
His sight dripped, like dark, viscous honey dribbling gently and leisurely slowly down a hollow tree's bark; the heat emanating from him seeming to derive from deep within his bones to leave behind a hellish, uncontrollably-chattering-teeth winter and an unable to be disregarded urge to entomb one's self under piles of blankets (which he would have been, if not for being literally dragged out of bed by their robot-maid when Otose had decided he had slept in enough, unmindful of his weakened health entirely).
Perspiration that had been in the disgustingly similar quantities of rain curling and sliding over his sweltering skin, the moisture in turn plastering his weaved-in-wavy-silver locks uncomfortably against his brow and neck, was now down to minimum droplets occasionally falling down his cheeks to be absorbed in the red scarf wound tightly around his neck—he feared the water levels in his aching body were already reaching depletion, neglecting his steadily heightening fever.
Reminded of the article of clothing around his neck, he pulled at the fluffy cloth—for the feeling of being choked to death by a the scarf was seemingly looming into reality—and swallowed thickly, grimacing at the itching sensation that instantly rose in his throat and the constant pressure in his chest that compressed lightly, forcing out several wavering coughs.
Otose turned to him, brow raised, and puffed out gaseous gray. "You okay, Gintoki?"
A few bleary blinks, moisture collecting at the corner of his eyes; the shadows dancing at his peripheral vision dangerously imminent on knocking him out. It took him a few moments to realize he had been spoken to. "…Hmn? Yeah, yeah," he waved off lightly, "'m fine." He sprawled himself over the counter, one arm extended and the other supporting his throbbing head.
She sighed heavily, lowering her pipe as she sauntered in front of him across the bar counter. She poked his visible cheek, frowning when she noted his temperature was anything but fine. His skin had also attainted that paleness that always infested him whenever a disease struck him. "Don't lie to me; I can see right through it."
Gintoki burrowed his face against the crook of his arm, shielding his features entirely, mumbling something Otose surmised was along the lines of "It's just a small cold".
Small, my ass. Becoming exasperated, she nudged him back into a sitting position, which the latter complied with a groan of protest, chiding, "Can't care for yourself when there are no Glasses or China to mother you around, can you? Not even two weeks since they've been gone to the World Tour of that famous singer Shinpachi is so infatuated over and you are already like this. What were you doing? Working a job under the passing blizzard?"
He wearily cracked his eyelids open and countered, words near a drunken slur, "They need money, will you? I won't let them starve to death in the middle of Switzerland or something because of Miss Stomach Abyss."
Working his self to the point of exhaustion for the sake of others…Just how far will you go for those two, Gintoki? "On either hand, Gintoki, go get yourself checked out at the hospital."
Gin turned his head to the side to cough against his arm, brows scrunched and frame shaking violently. Once done with his fit, he inhaled deeply, attempting to calm his gasping breath. "Why…the hospital when the clinic…is much closer…?"
Otose looked over to Tama, who had stopped her sweeping to bore holes into the back of a silver head, asking for a glass of water—or strawberry milk, preferably, as Gintoki decided to interject—for Gin; Tama quickly did as told, and both women watched as the only man took but a few sips of his favourite drink before setting it down and aside, unwanted. It was rather unnerving, they both admitted, to see Gintoki not have an appetite even for sweets.
"I heard there is a disease carried from Planet Onishi going around and infecting all of Edo," Catherine replied in her heavily accented tone as she wandered over from the kitchen to stand next to Otose. She did an onceover and concluded, no, the naturally-permed idiot did not look well at all.
Running a hand though his hair, encountering a few knots along the way, he leaned forth on his elbow, a disinterested appearance befalling him. "What are you talking about…? Didn't that already happen in episode one hundred sixty-five? Oi, writer, ran out of ideas?"
The writer can only avert gaze, affirming.
"Not enough fan-service to satiate your BL cravings?" He clicked his tongue, annoyed. "You fangirls just like seeing Gin-san suffer, don't you?"
Catherine punched him upside the head. "What are you mumbling about? The perm finally unscrewed something loose, you perm-y bastard?"
"Ow! That hurt! Can't you see Gin-san is an invalid right now, you mutilated cat?!"
"What was that, di—?!"
"Catherine," Otose interrupted before the verbal fight escalated as per usual, tone emphasized into a warning; "let the idiot be—don't worsen his stupidity."
Catherine crossed her arms, childishly sticking her tongue out as she taunted, "Baaaka, baka!"
Otose sighed for the second time, took in a puff from her pipe, and exhaled slowly through her nostrils, a fog of grey flaring before dispersing.
Gintoki coughed, having only enough time to impede the spread of disease with the sleeve of his yukata.
"It's different than last time, Gintoki. No one knows why there's a pneumonia epidemic spreading, so they are merely making Planet Onishi the scapegoat." Her gazed hardened with concern. "It will kill you if you let it go untreated."
He fixed his crimson gaze on the older and assured her with a small smile playing on his lips at the show of her motherly concern, "Nah, nothin' that bad, baa-san. The influenza, maybe, but nothing more than that—nothing a clinic can't fix, that's for sure." He stood, rather wobbly, and excused himself with the reason of sleep about to eat him alive and a yawn to drive away any suspicion of his words being a lie. The shoji clicked softly behind him.
"Otose-sama," Tama finally spoke, informing in her robotic monotone, "Gintoki-sama's temperature has risen by point four-three-eight since the inception of the half hour he has been in here, currently two point one degrees Fahrenheit higher than this morning."
Otose shook her head in great disapproval, sighing noisily, yet a hint of amusement retained in her aged eyes. "That idiot…"
…
"We'll be back in about six weeks, got it, Gin-san? Don't go doing anything stupid and getting into trouble, you hear? I've left the money with Tama so you use it properly and not go spending it all on Jump or Pachinko, okay? You'll be fine on your own until we come back from Otsuu-chan's first World Tour, right?...Right?" Shinpachi almost seemed uncertain Gintoki would remain alive and well, fearing when they return from their trip around the world—specially invited by the famed singer herself as "a thank-you gift for supporting me all of this time, hording-nincompoop lime"—they would find Gintoki had dissipated into thin air or, worse, had died at hands of a disease of some sort—because, while strong in battle, the silver samurai had no sense of self in the sense of caring properly for his body and health. If it wasn't for Shinpachi and Kagura, he was certain Gin-san, always selflessly sacrificing for the better of others, would have rendered his self beyond exhaustion and into the dark, empty embrace of death.
"You won't be making Papa and Mama worry, right, Gin-chan? I didn't raise you to be naughty, so act like a proper, young lady and make Papa proud, uh-huh. Got it, Gin-chan?"
"Who's a lady?! And wait…I'm the mother?! You've got it all wrong, Kagura-chan!"
Gin chuckled, ruffling the heads of his wards before smacking Kagura and Shinpachi's foreheads together, receiving an echo of "Ow! What was that for?!" from both. He grinned, crimson irises twinkling mischievously. "Gin-san will promise to be a good daughter only if Papa and Mama promise to be safe and bring me a year's worth of authentic, Swiss chocolate."
"...Greedy child."
They were all grinning like idiots in the end, nonetheless, even as Kagura eventually broke down, followed in a more mild fashion by Shinpachi, and swore she would eat as many "authentic, Swiss parfaits" for him—"I said chocolates, Kagura; chocolates"—and for him to be grateful she was going out of her way to do so, "you ungrateful, lazy-ass, dead-fish eyed daughter!"
He smiled to himself at the memory, a tad of loneliness slipping into his gaze as he watched from behind the windows the lazy fall of the flurry over the city. Really, he was a sap for his not-blood-related family.
"Sakata Gintoki-san?"
Gintoki heeded his caller and stood to follow the petite nurse beyond the reception office and into an examination room. Listening to his landlady's suggestion (for once) of heading to the hospital instead of the clinic, he had arrived at the closest hospital in Edo to have the illness that befell him diagnosed and properly treated. Of course, since his luck had a keen tendency to attract the worst, the X-rays taken of his chest (because there apparently was rattling to his chest whenever he coughed, something he was sure he would have noticed but decided not to dwell on it much and blame it on the effects of his fever) had somehow been switched with a different patient's three times to the point he was beginning to believe it was being done on purpose, which kept him being transported from center to center till the confusion was eventually cleared out…five hours later. His body was on the extremely delicate verge of collapsing now, shudders traveling under his skin and deep into his bones to twist them into an aching mess and wreck his balance by dangerous angles. "I'm so sorry, and you look so sick, too…" he kept hearing every turn he went, but no matter how kind and apologetic the employees were being, the smell of fish was overwhelming his senses:
Something was off, and he didn't like it one bit, especially with his physique being currently so vulnerable and weak.
Just my luck…
The nurse had to crane her neck to meet Gin's gaze (for she barely came up to his shoulder), her glossy lips catching the light pulling into a practiced smile, as she opened a door and stepped aside to allow the other in. "Sorry for all the moving around; there was some confusion…and, uhh…" She trailed off, clearing her throat as she looked off to the side and pulled at the hem of her too-short skirt (not that Gintoki minded; the pervert he is, he rather enjoyed it), a bright blush coming to her cheeks. "A-anyway…" She shifted nervously, rubbing her thighs together. "U-umm, do you mind if I…?"
Gintoki stumbled onto the nearby chair, clutching his head in a futile attempt to placate the headache pounding and throbbing with every small movement he took, aware of how painfully high his temperature had reached. The room swirled and doubled, fading and expanding with black blotches. He panted, slumping down the chair. "Yeah, yeah"—at this point he did not care how rude he was being—"just do your job. No need for the 'seduce-subdue the patient' tactic; I just wanna leave already."
There was an awkward, long pause before the nurse eventually decided to reply, her eyes lowered from view:
"Does that mean you will subdue on your own?" With the way she was climbing on his lap and her seductive tone of voice, her words were bordering on suggestive.
He blinked repeatedly, wondering if perhaps he had fallen prey to a very vivid fantasy. "…Eh?" His breath involuntarily hitched when her plush lips brushed over his palpitating-by-fault-of-an-unknown-disease pulse, a sweet spot he reserved only for his lover, and felt his faithful heart squirm unpleasantly, for, no matter how much of a playboy he tended to be when women touching his tastes presented themselves before him, this lover of his—the same, stupid lover who drowned himself in bottles and bottles of mayonnaise, much like how he did with delectable sugar—had captured him body, heart, and soul the first time those startling azure eyes had searched him out amongst a crowd and those luscious lips kissed him full-on, the intensity enough to convey the emotions words alone simply could not. He had struggled to accept such emotions he had given up on long ago and find his own set of emotions to return—be them negative or positive—only to discover a deep infatuation, one that left his heart breathless and his body burning; an infatuation so deep he begrudgingly came to learn to call 'love'.
It was no secret anywhere on Edo the notorious Oni no Fukuchou of the Shinsengumi and Yorozuya Gin-chan's Gin-san were…dating.
It took him a second too late to notice the poisoned needle being imbedded directly under his shoulder blade, spreading a burning pain that left him immediately paralyzed all throughout.
The last thing his dimming sight caught was glossy, plush lips pulled into a hideous sneer and crazed, sea-green eyes loosing themselves into an untamed ferity.
Damn, just my luck…
…
"How many times will you land yourself in my jail, Yorozuya?" Hijikata flicked on his lighter, cupping his other hand over the flame to ward off the wind; he inhaled deeply as he pocketed the lighter. He regarded the disheveled appearance of Gintoki, exhaling a silver cloud of smoke. "Asshole, you really messed up this time."
Gin remained strewn on his side, his yukata sliding down and over a tantalizing, porcelain shoulder whose muscles rippled like water when he shifted to find a more comfortable position. A flare of pain ran up his back, his brows furrowing into a grimace and a cold sweat breaking over his skin. He coughed fatiguingly, muffling them against the wooden floor, and breathed heavily, his chest heaving with the effort.
He leaned against the metallic bars, ignoring the pang of concern. "Oi, you sick again?"
Gintoki laughed brokenly, wincing. "The feared demonic vice-commander of the Shinsengumi showing concern over someone? Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming—it's all a dream, isn't it?"
Hijikata's brow twitched. "If you so much want to dream, I'll send you to sleep for eternity, bastard!" He huffed, swiveling to fully face the other, and reached into his pocket for a row of keys, flipping through them to find the proper one.
He watched silently as Hijikata unlocked the cell and stepped inside, expression a mask of bereft emotions. "Nee…Hijikata-kun, how did I get here…?"
"Yamazaki," he said, lowering himself to one knee before Gintoki; "he found you in an abandoned freight during an espionage mission. Said you were suspiciously sleeping among loads of Halo, that new drug-poison thing going around." He gathered Gintoki into his arms, grunting under the weight as he stood; his perpetual frown deepened when, instead of struggling like usual, the other's head simply lolled against his chest, a mewl escaping his lips. Beginning to make his way out of the detention center, he internally struggled to express something, but his tongue remained twisted, down-turning the straight line of his mouth, his teeth grinding into the cigarette—the curse of being a thorny. But… His eyes traveled to the one in his arms, glazed crimson locking with piercing cerulean.
At least he is the only thorny.
"Fucking thorny sugar-freak," he halfheartedly scoffed.
Gin's brow twitched. "Who are you calling a thorny sugar-freak, you bastard of a thorny mayo-freak?"
Hijikata chuckled, the rarity of the action mildly startling Gin. "If you can still do your lame retorts, you're fine."
To show just how 'fine' he was, Gintoki reached up to snatch Hijikata's cigarette—"Hey! What are you doing, bastard?!"—and place it instead between his lips, taking a long drag, and then purposefully releasing the smoke on the heart-throbbing features of his lover. Somewhat put out by Hijikata's lack of reaction (for the bastard drowned in this god-awful substance), he grinned, waving the cigarette about, and taunted, "Try to take it back, and you'll get infected by Gin-san's germs. Or do you want an indirect kiss from Gin-san so much, Hijikata-kun? Will it make you go 'aaahn~'? Hmn? Will it? Will it?"
He…seriously pisses me off! In retaliation, Hijikata moved Gintoki closer to press their lips together, relishing in the soft gasp of surprise the silver haired released. It didn't matter he was still walking and they were receiving startled stares from passersby and Sougo was photographing it all for later use for blackmail. Hijikata pulled away almost reluctantly, a light flush tinting his cheeks; watching as a furious, bright blush unrelating to fever dusted Gintoki's cheeks, returning some colour to his sickly countenance. He smirked. "I prefer direct."
Grumbling, "…I hate you."
"I hate you more."
"Asshole."
"Asswipe."
"Mayo-otaku."
"Diabetic."
They grit their teeth, scowling at one another. Then, they echoed, "Thorny!"
"U-umm…" Yamazaki timidly interrupted the quickly escalating dispute, yelping when two sets of glares swiveled to pierce through him accompanied with two aggravated "What?!". "The blood tests' results we gathered from Danna have arrived, Vice-Chief."
His scowl disappeared to be replaced with a questioning brow sent his lover's way. "Oi, oi, Hijikata-kun, Gin-san's blood is precious, you know—don't use it as you please."
Hijikata acknowledged Gintoki's comment with a glance briefly before turning to Yamazaki, expression returned to unveiling nothing. "The results on my desk." Not a question, but rather an expectation.
Yamazaki gulped, averting his gaze as he inch by inch made himself out of sword-range.
Being the hot-tempered person he was, impatience brewed quickly. "Well?"
"W-well, you see, I tried to stop him—I really did!—b-but…the Commander…kind of…sort of…got to them."
"Sougo!"
And so, after carefully placing Gintoki in a readied futon in his chamber and making certain the silver samurai would not move around in his frail condition, the chase after the Sadist—who yelled over his shoulder and waved some papers about, "I'll give these to you if you drop dead, Hijikata-san!"—began.
Gintoki bore his stare into the wooden wall, one side of his face plastered against a comforting pillow—for it drifted with the strangely mellifluous scent of Hijikata—and down to his waist exposed to the cold air of winter. He exhaled heavily, a long, dreading sigh, and attempted to catch the muscular form of the Shinsengumi's adored Gorilla Chief, a futile effort that only managed to strain his eyes. "Is this really necessary, Gori-san? Going as far as to chase my boyfriend out."
"It is," he replied in the tone he rarely used for matters of great importance, his leader-personality seeping through. "If you know Toshi as well as I do, you'll understand the tantrum he'll throw if he discovers you were especially targeted by the dealers of Halo—he won't stop till all of them are dead, even if he loses a limb or two or, worse, his life." He smiled, a few tears coming to cloud his eyes, and sniffed dramatically, wiping at the tears with the sleeve of his uniform. "I'm so happy Toshi finally found someone he could enjoy to the fullest the rest of his life…!"
He chuckled. "You sound like you're sending us off to marry, Gori-san; it's still too early for that." He opened his eyes halfway, a pensive air befalling him. "I'm surprised Souichirou-kun—"
"It's Sougo," Okita murmured to no one in particular, running past innocent civilians to avoid meeting his end at the blade of Hijikata.
"—decided to go along with it; thought he resented Oogoshi-kun for moving on from the memory of his sister."
Kondou nodded gravely. "'s what I thought as well. Sometimes, not even I get what that kid is thinking, y'know."
He hummed, seemingly disinterested. "So, what am I supposed to do? Wait until the drug is entirely out of my system or something? My neck is starting to hurt." To prove his point, he cracked his head from side to side, wincing when his actions ignited a shot of sharp pain from his upper back, where the not-really-nurse had injected a needle that had yet to be recovered from his body.
"A trusted doctor will be arriving shortly," Yamazaki informed from the corner of the room yet already retreating from the general vicinity.
As if on cue, the shoji slid open and closed as a woman in her late thirties carrying a suitcase excused herself in, lips formed into a cheery smile and a smear of fresh blood swiped across her tanned cheek. "Ah, sorry, sorry!" She apologized lightly, waving her free hand about. "The amputation took longer than expected—he was quite the screamer, you know?" She clicked her tongue with mock vexation. "So troublesome."
A-am—"Amputation?!" Horrified, he squirmed under the covers lying over the lower half of his body, succeeding in only tangling himself with the sheets and tripping himself face-first onto the cruelly hard floor.
The doctor laughed, dragging Gintoki with monstrous strength back onto the futon, her smile so sweet it might as well have been diabolic. "Now, now, Yorozuya-san," she chided, tying the sheets securely around Gintoki's ankles and wrists, ignoring the other's protests entirely, "it's no-good if you keep moving around so much like that—you're only helping to spread the drug further into your system; if it reaches your heart, you'll die, you know…I hope."
"I heard that!" Gintoki struggled against his bindings, shrieking when the woman moved closer. "Give me a hospital, please! I'm begging you! Gin-san is too young to die!"
She clicked her tongue, holding a glinting, sharp instrument suddenly that had appeared out of thin air to Gin's neck; her gay aura entirely consumed by darkness. "Stay put unless you want me to sedate you, boy."
Immediately, he went petrified, all colour draining from his countenance. "Y-yes, ma'am…!"
"Good." She dusted herself off and dragged the suitcase sitting off to the side closer to open it, the stench of various substances springing to waft across the room. All moods scattered from her features, unveiling a stony concentration. "Face the other way and don't move."
He complied begrudgingly, muttering a grumble of something or other. He felt her fingers pressing around, kneading his muscles lightly, and he held his breath as the pain began to become unbearable when she touched a particularly delicate area, withering the edges of his vision.
"Hold your breath and bite into something."
"Wha…?"
A sleek blade sunk into his flesh, breaking through layers of skin and muscle to give way for a flow of blood to ooze out and down his side, staining the covers a dark crimson. "Fu—! What the…hell…! Give a more proper…warning!" he gasped out, clutching his eyes closed as he tried to distract himself from the excruciating pain by losing himself in the wonders of Hijikata's intricate scent lingering in the fluffy pillow: strawberry and tobacco…? No, he recognized the strawberry to be his shampoo; had he slept in Hijikata's bed enough for his smell to remain long after, he wondered? The thought of it being so contented him. He nuzzled further into the pillow, inhaling deeply to make out the other components that were uniquely his lover's, and found his lashes were beginning to flutter under the weight of exhaustion.
Toushirou…
…
Fingers flitted through wavy, silver locks, twirling the overly soft and puffy strands of hair and then releasing, repeating the action absentmindedly. He twisted the locks this way and that, intrigued by the manner they sparkled a shimmering cerulean when caught under the moonlight. Releasing the locks, his hand trailed lower, tracing a perfectly formed brow and then skimming along the ticklish ends of lashes. They're long and nicely curled…He hummed softly, careful of not being too loud, and circled around a high cheekbone and frowning at the heat emanating from the too-pale skin, never one to like how much colour dissipated from Gintoki's features whenever an illness struck his weak immune system, always deceivingly so close to Death's doors. His fingers brushed lower, thumb sweeping onto a lower lip, feeling the soft, deep breaths ghosting over his skin as if to convince himself the other was not wandering beyond his reach, in a dimension of frozen time.
"You'll turn into the Terminator if you keep frowning like that, Hijikata-kun."
"Like hell I would." He flicked the other on the forehead lightly, teasingly. "You're the one who'll turn into Sadako with the many times you keep falling ill. When will you care for yourself better?" His hand unconsciously snaked into the silver locks once again, massaging the scalp gently.
Gintoki leaned into the touch, eyes closed, practically purring that Hijikata couldn't help but find the other not dissimilar to a cat. "Not my fault my immune system is shit." The moonlight filtering through a small aperture of the shoji rested over his eyelids, inducing his 'long and nicely curled' lashes into reflecting a light shimmer.
"'Cause all you ever eat is loaded with sugar." He moved to cup the other's cheek, skimming by the ends of those silver lashes once more. "And all you ever do is laze around, waiting for the miraculous client to come around."
"Like you're one to talk, Mayora, eating all of that artery-clogging dog food." His eyes flicked open, the irises' colour augmented by the moon such that they shone a strange hue like that of fresh blood yet pure like the deep tints of a red rose. His lips lifted into a miniscule smile. "I'll admit you at least work—to do point of being a workaholic, that is."
"Apologize to mayonnaise, perm-y bastard," he threatened without the threat in his tone. "And for being a sickly idiot who is a magnet for trouble."
"Are you dedicating a song to me, Oogoshi-kun? I want you to kiss me and repaint my body; I want to be intoxicated—"
"Don't sing it, idiot. And who the hell is Oogoshi?"
Gintoki gave a mock of a gasp. "Mommy, Oogoshi-kun is having an identity crisis!"
"Who the hell is having an identity crisis, huh?!" he growled, grinding his knuckles against Gintoki's temples.
"Ow, ow! I give! Give!" He grasped Hijikata's forearms, accidentally throwing the latter off balance and splaying him over his chest; Hijikata's quick reflexes luckily saving Gintoki from being crushed to death, elbows on either side of Gin's head. They stared intensely into one another, both caught off guard, and Hijikata did the only thing he could think of in such a situation:
To capture into a kiss.
He moved his lips, maneuvering the other's open, and slipped in his tongue, circling around Gin's, coaxing the latter to play along. Gintoki eagerly returned the motion, tilting his head to the side to find a better angle, licking along the side and then across—delving in the sweet grunt of appreciation when he passed over a sensitive spot—before he withdrew, panting from the light exertion.
"Ever heard of diseases spreading by mouth? And here you are literally going directly at one."
"Only idiots get sick." He pressed a kiss to Gin's forehead—the action earning him an embarrassed blush that he found too endearing for his stony mask to crack and allow a smile through—and casually changed the subject, "Have you called home? They must be searching their eyes out for you."
He hummed softly, wrapping his arms around Hijikata's neck and effectively bringing them closer. "I'll call later. How long ago was the eighteenth?"
"Last month. Today is the second."
He blinked, mildly astonished so much time had flown by, and then winced when he pictured the earful he would be receiving once he humbly made his way back. "Ah, Kagura and Shinpachi will be back soon, then."
Hijikata buried himself against the crook of Gintoki's neck, inhaling the familiar scent of strawberries, and returned the lazy embrace by inserting his arms under the other's weight, hugging him close enough to feel Gintoki's heart thrumming gently and surely against his own. "Bastard…
"If you dare disappear like that again, I'll kill you."