Note: Gin is like 26 here, and Hiji is 16 or 17 I think. ENJOY! credits to my dear friend (I did this for her btw) for that wonderful title. haha.

"How about this?"

He finally broke the silence; that long comforting silence between the two of them as they watched the downpour outside.

She stared at him.

"You don't have anywhere to go, right?"

He then sighed, scratched his naturally permed hair, murmured some incoherent curses to himself and offered a hand for her.

"Then why don't you live with me?"

And she was getting sucked by that dumb face of his; those dead fish eyes; not even knowing that her hand was reaching out to him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I'm home."

Gintoki spoke in his usual lazed manner, hinting exhaustion in his tone. A teacher's job is never easy after all, dealing with different kinds of people is too much of a pain in the first place, much more with pubescent high school students. Not to mention that they were the type of students who would cause broken windows or chairs on a daily basis.

And hey, it's not like he really wanted to be a teacher. It's just that…..the Gintama 3Z verse says he's a teacher so he was just basically forced into it. Though truth to be told, he had always wanted to be the delinquent. Because all he needed was a puppy, a rainy day and an umbrella and he'd land the cool and bad ass tsundere role. Girls would be fawning over him instantly.

Pushing aside the breaking-the-4th-wall-because-this-is-Gintama-so-it-is-necessary thoughts he slid the door of his house all the while starting to take off his shoes.

"Welcome back."

Came the sweet voice of a girl as soon as the door opened.

"D-d-dar….darling." she continued, stuttering so adorably.

All the exhaustion within him were washed away instantly. On his doorway sat a young maiden in her elegantly maintained dogeza position, with her medium length raven locks neatly gathered on one side of her shoulder, tied by a big pink bow complemented by a frilly frilly pink apron.

She then raised her upper body with delicate grace, perfect posture still intact. The big heart printed on the middle of the apron was now shown, "What do you want? Dinner? Bath? Or….."

A brief pause followed, as she averted her eyes from him ―in which the teacher assumed as her way of concealing her pink tinged cheeks due to utter embarrassment. She bit her lip, yielding an almost inaudible murmur, "….m…M-me."

Who was he to deny such blessing laid out right in front of him, like a ripened fruit all ready to be picked by him? He was just a man, a man who has his dreams and hopes he yearned to be fulfilled.

A knowing smirk then graced upon his lips. Playing Old Maid might become a daily basis for them. He should start taking notes of the days when costume shops are on sale, maybe a nurse uniform or a maid. And begin improving his 'special' skills with cards in the process.

He wasted no time to make the best of this opportunity and rushed to her ―shoes forgotten to be taken off. He scooped her from her position with ease, her light weight and petite figure fitting snugly into his arms.

A typical princess carry, perfectly fit for the maiden.

With a wider grin that reeked of devious thoughts, he told her, "Well then, I'll take the third option Toshiko-chan."

She froze, "EH?!"

The man took advantage of the girl's deer-caught-in-head-lights state, walking towards the couch ―because he knew the futon was still not laid out and opening the door to the bedroom would be too much of a pain. Protests like, 'Hey! You said I'd just greet you with this sickeningly pink apron―!' 'Put me down―!' which he could listen halfway as he was too focused on placing her on the couch. He followed afterwards, crawling his way to the girl lying beneath him. He had her caged within his muscular physique; with a stare that clearly stated his refusal to let her go. He reached out for her wrists and pinned them gently on the couch.

Eyes still as rounded as saucers, she started wriggling from his grasp, "Oiiiiiiii! You're taking this too far already!"

It was futile though, since the more she struggled the more he tightened his grip on her.

She looked down, "You haven't even taken off your shoes yet!" Raising it afterwards to face the man, "And I just cleaned the couch, you know?!"

A bad move for the poor little girl who even had the luxury to worry about a lifeless object, as Gintoki had wittingly countered, "Why care? We're about to get dirty anyway."

At that instant, the blood in her body had shot up to her face, incoherent words produced by her while stuttering for every vain attempt to speak something sensible. Failing with her words, she recourse to physical means which was wriggling violently her both pair of limbs.

"I'M GONNA SUE YOU, YOU PEDOPHIL―"

Her words were left hanging in the air, as she felt tender fingers tucking strands of her hair behind her ear. She was rendered speechless as soon as she saw his face of reassurance and sincerity. Not even noticing his hand leaning to her forehead, if not for the comforting warmth she felt radiated by his palm; gently raking his fingers on her bangs, combing her hair afterwards.

He pressed a soft kiss on her forehead, and breathed directly to her ears, "Don't worry. I'll be gentle."

He faced her once again, while his other hand was gradually loosening his neck tie. His voice was in dangerously low tone with oozing charisma that any girl would fall on their knees once heard. Damn you, Sugita Tomokazu. She thought. His breath felt warm on her flesh, tickling her.

With all the courage she had, she stared directly to his eyes and swallowed the non-existent lump on her throat. Her breathing was in faster pace, same with her heart beating erratically from her chest.

Curses and self-depreciative words kept floating to her head to keep her sanity intact. She was blushing more profusely than a while ago, and her traitorous body kept having such responses from the man.

Not facing him, a faint utter came from her lips, "P-perv―"

"PFT."

She knitted her brows. Did he just snort? She thought.

Gintoki finally sat down properly on the couch, freeing Toshiko from his grip. Looking down to him, he was already at the other side of the cushy furniture holding his tummy with one hand, and the other one violently slapping the edge of the couch.

"PFFFFFT." He snorted once again, this time it was louder as if on purpose, "You really thought I was gonna do it? I didn't know Toshiko-chan is a pervert."

And that was the end of her wits, seeing that annoying teasing face even dared to point a finger on her, plus the fact that she was purposely embarrassed by him.

"Oiiii! Who was the one who forced m―?!"

She was cut off by Gintoki's hands now holding his shoulders, "Yes, yes. I understand." Nodding to himself, "Gin-san's charisma is too irresistible, right?" he sighed, "Don't fall for me now, Toshiko-chan." Sparkles flew as he brushed up his bangs, "Really, this sinfully handsome face of mine is a crime itsel―"

A petite hand pushed his cheeks inwards, distorting his face, "Then why don't I slam this sinfully handsome face of yours to the ground to help you atone for your sin?"

Gintoki tapped her hand repeatedly, trying to escape from her hand, "Ow!ow!owww! " He exclaimed, face still distorted into a 'Scream'-like manner, "N-not the face Toshiko-chan! No one wants an ugly main charac―"

A familiar pink cloth was then thrown into his face, obstructing his sight. His now aching cheeks finally freed from her violent grasp. He took off the fabric from his face, probably to start spewing nonsensical curses towards her, until a loud growl echoed in the house.

It was his stomach's desperate plea to be filled.

Toshiko stood behind the couch, towering the man seated there now staring at him with his dumb looking face.

And stated the obvious, "I'm hungry."

"I know, moron."

He retained his stare on her, a child-like stare waiting for something.

"What? Aren't you gonna eat?" she looked away, "I bought strawberry pudding."

Before she could even move a step, the man had already leaped from the couch ―like an overly excited kid― and had moved ahead of him towards the kitchen.

A sigh came from her, "Seriously, just get a damn girlfriend and release all your sexual frustrations on her."

"Hah. Ketsuno Ana is the only girl to bear my kids!" he announced with pride.

"Yeah, dream on permy geezer. Just stop using me for your weird fetishes."

He stopped, turned his face halfway to her, narrowed his eyes, "Maybe I should." and lingered his faze on her from top to bottom, and bottom to top, "Because Toshiko-chan doesn't even fulfill a quarter..." His thumb was tapping his lips, another scrutinizing stare from him,"...no, an eighth, of my desires."

An anger mark formed on her temple.

Another tapping of his finger, with his feet matching its rhythm, "But I have no choice, gotta bear with what's available, y'know?"

More anger marks appeared, before she stomped past him. Gin's eyes followed the angered girl, "Wear a nurse uniform next time. Pink suits you Toshiko-chan."

"I'll f*cking sue you for Sexual ASSAULT, one of these days. Just you wait." she spoke with gritted teeth while he joined her on the dining table.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She roamed her eyes around the house.

Each and every corner was remotely familiar to her; the ceiling, the walls, the tatami mat underneath her feet, the furniture limited to what was just essential on a daily living, the blanket enveloping her with needed heat ―a whiff of red bean paste on it, the loosely fit shirt and cotton pants she wore.

"Hachiko-chan was it?"

And this naturally permed man standing across her ―Gintoki Sakata, is what he called himself; the owner of this apartment ―Apartment 201, to be precise.

"T-toshiko." She tightened her grip on the blanket, "Toshiko Hijikata."

Strange. She felt familiar in this place. She felt like….home ―the word itself was foreign to her, an orphaned girl who had ventured the streets more for insensible fights ―just hours ago she was on a fight with some delinquents two blocks away from this apartment― rather than stay in the orphanage much more to school. She didn't have a place she could consider as 'home.' Yet she knew, maybe on instinct, this is how it felt to be somewhere she belonged.

But the strangest part was, the reason for all these thoughts were greatly affected by this man whose appearance screamed, 'dubious', 'irresponsible adult' and 'sexually frustrated pervert.' Hell, he was even smoking when she first saw him; and his face was like someone who had enough living in this world.

She had forgotten how or why or what had transpired that led her to this position. All she knew was this sudden surge of unexplainable feelings as soon as she saw his hand reaching out to her ―safety, assurance and most of all trust. There was this baseless confidence at the back of her mind that told her, she won't ever regret this decision.

Was it his charisma? Maybe those dead fish eyes of him had some hypnotic effect that had her succumb to submission. Was she just tricked into it? Lured into his trap of deceptive kindness? Maybe she was just romanticizing her situation, her emotions welling up as she felt genuine concern from another person, something she hadn't experienced for years. Maybe he thought she was too gullible to easily yield into sweet lies.

Because if society would give its verdict; a mid-adolescent girl accepting an offer of co-habiting with a grown man who obviously lived alone ―the 1LDK apartment is one proof― not to mention that the aforementioned man's existence was unknown to her 'til that day, was something to be reported to the authority. They had no relation at all after all. Anyone would think of it as a pedophile taking advantage of an emotionally unstable teenager. An orphan and problem child, a great combo to be targeted.

She tensed. Wariness seeping through her body as her last thoughts sank into her. She surveyed the surroundings. Good. The door was just two sprints away from the couch. She stared at the man. He was busying himself with what she believed as a medicine cabinet. Is he going to trick her into taking sedatives? Or any medicine to impair her mobility? She couldn't tell. She could only see his back. She eyed the door once again. She had confidence in her speed. She'd be able to escape in a jiffy without being caught. But if worse comes to worst, she could fight. It would be easy. After all, fighting is like breathing for her. She had handled different types of enemies, from the skinny ones to the muscular guys whose only strength is their arrogance.

It was just a lapse of judgment, a momentary illusion of escaping her forsaken reality. She wouldn't be a stupid moth fascinated by the fire just to be scorched by it. She'd been bitch slapped by the harsh reality every day of her life.

That the only one who would care for her is herself.

Ah, yes. There was still her big brother. The only one she trusted, the one who was not just a sibling but also a parent to her. It was those times spent with him; she cherished the most. Those good old days where she was not alone, where she enjoyed her life.

But he's….

She shook her head. This was not the time to have a brief trip on her past. Right now, she should focus on escaping from this house.

Gathering enough courage, she pushed her feet on the tatami mat cautiously, peeling the blanket around her. The man still had his back on her. She had to take advantage of his lack of attention for her. She took a wary step forward.

"Okay. Mamiko-chan."

And dragged her body down the couch once again, wrapping the blanket on her body, staring at the man ―all done on split seconds before he faced her.

"Toshiko." She corrected him.

"Bah. Whatever." A wave of dismissal came afterwards, holding a medicine kit on his other hand, "As long as there is 'ko' in the end. It's still a girl's name; whether Takiko or Akiko or Ch*nko."

"Oiiii!" She exclaimed, "That last 'ko' is definitely not for a girl! No sensible parent is gonna name their daughter after a man's―"

She clamped her mouth. It was just hours since their acquaintance and here she was, about to speak lewd things because of this man casually injecting a perverted joke on their conversation.

He sat beside her, and placed the medicine kit on the table, "Look here."

Her head automatically obeyed, like some voice controlled device blindly following his instructions. He held a cotton ball soaked in providone iodine. He started tending her wounds. She flinched at the contact. The pain was tolerable, or rather, she was used to it. It didn't bother her anymore. Despite her impression on him, he did fairly well on nursing her wounds.

"Hand." Said he, which she obliged right away.

He stopped his movements seeing her hand. A freshly cut wound was gaping on him ―it was big enough to swallow a pachinko ball. There was no dripping blood, but it still looked colorful; blue to black little bruises around it (up to her arm), pinkish swellings, brownish and black wound scabs. His stare lingered on her palm; probably contemplating of the possible causes of the wound. It might be her imagination, but there was a sensation of gentle squeeze ―for comfort? Or was he just testing the pain?― before he reached for her other hand; with the same inquisitive gaze. He then eyed her, from top to bottom.

Contrast to his dumb looking face, there was depth in his eyes; a glint of nostalgia? She couldn't tell. But she didn't miss that fleeting moment his eyes soften behind those dead fish eyes, looking through her very being; like he understood her.

His attention went back to the wounded palm, "You sure love collecting wounds, huh?" A shrug, before he continued his nursing role on her, "Could you be a masochist?" He stared at her again,"Oi. Oi. I'm a sadist just you know, and I'd rather have it with resistan―"

"I don't have sick fetish like you!" she retorted, "Pervert."

"You know how to cook, Toshiko-chan?" he asked changing the subject at an instant, ignoring her taunt.

A dumb founded look donned her face with a question like that out of nowhere, "Huh?!" But he just responded with expectant eyes pressuring her to answer. Reluctantly, she replied, "...a bit." ―if grilling fish would be considered cooking.

He worked on her other hand; taking out another providone iodine soaked cotton ball, "Then you better start learning now, Toshiko-chan. I'm not that picky, but be sure it's edible, and not some…..ominous dark matter." Disgust flashed on his features, like an unpleasant memory came into his mind. "Ugh."

She was at lost with this overturn of their conversation. He is unpredictable, that much she could tell despite the short span of time she'd known him, "What the hell are you saying?"

He rose his eyebrow, cocked his head to face her, giving her an 'isn't-it-obvious' look, "What? You're gonna live here, right?" He blindly reached for another gauze to cover her wound, "Ah. Crap. No more gauze."

"I-i didn't s― I was j― H-hey― " Stuttering continuously, her words failing on her.

Ignoring her, he stood up, muttered 'shouldn't have used it to wipe my ass' under his breath and brought back the medicine kit to the cabinet.

He had his arms crossed just staring at her, waiting for proper response from her.

She cast her head downwards, "I didn't agree about living here." A quick look on his face, before staring back to the floor, "Y-you just dragged me here."

"Now you make it sound like I'm some kidnapper, or some perverted old man with ulterior motives."

She tensed, partly guilty of his accusation.

"Awwww...you wound my heart, Toshiko-chan." She flinched, more guilt filling her chest, "I'm not that old y'know."

"That's what you're hurt about?!"

It was certainly weird how she could easily have these kind of exchanges with the man, as though it had been a part of their everyday life ―like he'd been a part of her daily life. But she must not be dragged by the easy-going attitude of this man; her defenses must not break, even when there's this pleasant feeling in her chest as she continued talking to him.

"Don't get me wrong. I just needed a live in house keeper."

Whatever this man was thinking, she didn't wish to know. It must be a roller coaster ride if ever she'd go inside his mind; and she's not a fan of roller coaster, or any heart-leaping, vomit-inducing rides. In fact, she never liked them. "Sorry. I think you need to find another person to hire."

She stood up, took off the blanket from her, and did a courteous bow, "Thank you for your kindness. I'll take my leave now."

"If you insist." he shrugged.

He escorted her to the door, but before she could step outside his apartment he called her, "Wait. You forgot something."

She looked back, confused.

He handed her a violet umbrella, "You don't want to wet those wounds again. And I had a hard time with that, 'kay?" She tried giving it back, but he was persistent, "It's yours. The color's too girly for me anyway and it's just 100 yen. Meh " He looked down on her, "And those clothes too."

She blushed. She forgot about her borrowed clothes, and wasn't hers still hanging inside his bathroom? Nah, she could just abandon those. It's kind of tattered anyway.

But it was still her favorite.

She bowed once again, and left his apartment with just a simple wave of goodbye from him. She moved forward, carving the image of that house ―with that guy― in her memory, since she knew, it would be the last time she'd see it.

Though next day, she found herself standing in front of Apartment 201, holding bags of clothes, and ringing the doorbell.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The digital clock read 6:00 am. Gintoki peeked through one eye. There's still an hour for him to resume his sleep, but he did not.

He heard the clanking of kitchen utensils, probably a frying pan on the stove, then there was the sizzling of oil, together with the smell of butter permeating in the air. The first wave of hunger churning in his empty stomach, now left him day dreaming of the food he would feast on hours later. Maybe bacon, or egg, or whatever, as long as it obstructs the heart valves with cholesterol plaques. A hum followed, which he recognized as an Otsuu song (must've brought his Tosshi side in this 3z verse); muffled by the closed door. Her tone was a bit off but it still sounded nice, especially when she hit the high notes. There were light taps of foot, synching with her hum now accompanied with lyrics as she reached the chorus part. She was getting engrossed. He could tease her by going to the kitchen in the midst of her mini concert with the kitchen utensils ―with the spatula as her microphone― and witness that precious embarrassed-slash-angry face of hers. The temptation was great, but the magnetizing comfort of his futon would always get in the way ―add the fact that it was the start of fall season, where everyone would prefer to marry the bed and just stay there. Besides, this was her sacred time which she enjoyed alone; oblivious of her one-man audience eavesdropping from his futon.

Routines are lame, if Gintoki were to be asked. Routines meant doing the same thing every damn day of your life, a schedule should be followed. And Gintoki was not a fan of being organized. He preferred life to be random.

But routines also meant something is constant. That she is constant in his everyday life. And there was something to look forward to day after day; just like these mundane morning routines they shared. He never failed to appreciate them no matter how trivial it is.

It had been one and a half years, now that he thought about it. One rainy day in the midst of May, a wounded and drenched girl just appeared in front of his apartment. She looked so fragile, too skinny for her built; just sitting there waiting for something ―maybe for the rain to stop pouring or someone to notice her, to take her; like an abandoned puppy ―was what he first thought. But she was more of a stray dog, a harmless stray dog who only bared its fangs when necessary; isolating herself through her hostile façade. She didn't yearn for an owner and had struggled to live through her life alone. Yet he was able to break through her barriers.

He didn't have the chance to know her whole story. He never even knew what had brought her in that place. Because 'Past is past and I live in the present' ―was what he'd always say. And he respected other's privacy. She was the same. It was like an unwritten agreement between the two of them that neither of them had defied. As strange as it is, it strengthened their mutual trust ―at the same time, respect― for each other.

Though there was one instance when she asked him why he chose to be a teacher in which he replied with, 'Because I love seeing High school girl uniforms.' He knew from the way she just stared at him with perceptive scrutiny that she was aware there was something else from his answer. And like there was some magical blue tooth on her, she sensed he wouldn't provide the proper answer no matter how much prodding she did. She had always been that sharp; just having the general thought. So she just shrugged and said, 'Then why don't you wear high school uniforms in your work. ' another look of mocking anger before she continued, 'Pervert.'

He had his theories though, through the slip of reminisces that would come into their conversation, mostly about her big brother like, 'He used to teach me how to grill fish' or 'He gave me this' or 'I lived with him before.' It left little to his imagination of her brother's whereabouts, or who knows, he might be dead. But he was certain of how irreplaceable her brother is to her. She rarely, almost never, mentioned about her life in the orphanage, or her everyday brawl in the past. It must be that part of her life she didn't wish to relive. Not that he needed to know them.

It was on whim, he was sure of that. An impulse that had him to take her in despite all the possible crimes he would be punished of. Hell, it didn't even cross his mind. He was more of do-it-now-think-later.

The biting air of familiarity ―or was it camaraderie? Fellowship?― overwhelmed him in her presence.

An image of a white haired kid in the slums underneath the downpour came to his mind. A deep yet soothing voice calling him, with that pale blonde hair and comforting smile, a hand of an adult was reaching out to him.

He stopped his thoughts right away. He refused to tread that part of his memory. He didn't even know why he was inserting flashbacks first thing in a normal Tuesday morning. Plot convenience, my ass! He cursed the author of this fanfic.

He closed his eyes again, lulling himself with the sound of her voice (who was now drumming the stove with her fingers, trying her best to reach the highest note).

Pushing to the farthest of his mind, the image of him, Shouyo-sensei, his late benefactor and savior.

"H*nter X H*nter 350 is out."

He jumped from his futon, stepped on his blanket, slipped his foot, fell with his face on the tatami…..almost, and supported himself with his hands the last minute, a little bit of scratching the floor, more frantic slipping and desperate balancing before he was able to sloppily stand on his feet.

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"

He shouted repeatedly at the peak of hysteria, stumbling as he reached the door, with the only thought of, 'Go to the convenience store and buy JUMP. NOW.' Then for a miraculous second of composure, he remembered he was still wearing his pajamas.

"OH CRAP! My wallet!" he exclaimed, as he searched for his pockets, "Where did I p―"

"It was a joke. PFT." A loud snort meant to be heard by him, "…idiot."

He stopped, cleared his mind and faced Toshiko ―he just noticed her presence in the room― who was sitting oh-so-calmly beside his futon, and was stifling her laughter not-so-femininely (she was making funny faces like protruding lips). She must've enjoyed his hysteric spectacle. As always.

He should've known. This girl had her innovative ways of waking him up, and most of them were as successful as this (the milder ones received a brief girly squeal then he'd rise from his bed). She really knew her way around him. Last time she whispered, 'Otose-san is pregnant with your baby' in the midst of his dream about winning the pachinko. He knew there was the 'Scandal arc' even when it happened on the cannon verse and even it was just a thorough revengeful gag for him. But like some hypnotism that rips out the reason in you, he believed it. And boy, he was all ready to fly to Mexico then and there ―because he felt like having tacos that time. He's confident that the old hag was incapable of producing any human beings at that point of her life. So it must be a monster or an alien or another old hag who would incessantly collect his debts in rent. He was about to jump on the window when Toshiko shouted at him to fix his bed (since hers was already neatly kept on the cabinet) and go to the kitchen while laughing like she just saw a great comedy show.

"I should've recorded that on cam." She murmured to herself as she stood, moved her feet and opened the door for the flabbergasted Gintoki who still had not moved from his position, just staring at her.

"Then uploaded it on Y*utub*." She disregarded him and moved past the door, towards the kitchen. Though her contemptuous giggle can be heard by him.

"Shut up!" he pouted," You would never understand the agony of waiting for that goddamn back pain to recover!"

He closed the door and trailed her steps headed for the kitchen.

"Of course I won't. I don't have body deterioration problems due to old" ―a big emphasis on this word―"age." She replied, flashing a shrewd gaze on him.

Gintoki ignored her subsidiary insult. He just walked behind her.

She gestured herself to sit, "And you wouldn't understand how irritating it is to hear your alarm clock ringing for thirty freaking minutes." She faced him again, "…every damn morning."

He positioned himself across her, "What? It's not like I'm gonna be late. I manipulate the time of our class." An air of pride in his voice, as he continued, "Because. HAH. I'm the teacher."

His eyes wandered on the table; unconsciously licking his lips because hunger had invaded his mind at that moment. It was fried mackerel and rice for their breakfast. And there's still the strawberry pudding on the fridge.

"I'm really amazed how they haven't fired you in this job."

He eyed her, "Because I'm the main character."

"Just eat your breakfast."

Nothing eventful happened in their breakfast. Just the usual, like Toshiko squirting more than half the bottle of mayonnaise on her coffee that this white liquid was spilling on the table and she just scooped them with her finger then eat it, then the other half to her rice. He'd never get used with this peculiar affection of hers towards this condiment. She could live without rice but not without mayonnaise. And there's this stupid idea on her mind that everyone worshipped it like hers.

After eating, Toshiko washed the dishes ―they had schedule for the one in charge of the dishes, but since Gin would always wake up late, it didn't matter anymore― while Gintoki showered. Emerging from the bathroom with his clean uniform, he went back to the kitchen, still drying his hair with a towel. No Toshiko-chan in sight. He trailed his footsteps to the living room and spotted her standing in the midst of it. She was combing her hair. She wasn't surprised when he appeared in front of her, and didn't protest when Gin pilfered the comb from her. She parted her hair in half, and as if on cue he began braiding her.

He raked his fingers from her scalp to the ends of her hair, parting them into three parts. He motioned his hands with ease and his sole focus was her hair.

"I've fixed your futon for you." She said.

"Gee. Thanks."

She rolled her eyes which could translated as, 'When will you be a responsible adult?' But Gintoki had his hands full with her hair, the message failed to get across him. Even if it did, the response would be the same.

She then raised her head, stripped off the towel from his neck, "I told you to hang this after taking a bath." She let it dangle on her forearm.

He was halfway done from the first braid, "But my hair's still wet." He countered, not facing her. He stopped his movements and wagged his hair like a dog, "See?"

Droplets scattered to all directions including her of course, and she reflexively moved back from him. Even before her mouth could open to voice out another lecture, he had held her shoulders firmly yet gently and pulled her back to him. He slid down his hand on her arm, and rested them on her raven locks again.

"Don't move too much." His head was still focusing on her braid. He moved up his eyes to look at her, "You're ruining my masterpiece."

"Tssh. Masterpiece, my ass. It's just a simple double braids. Even a pre-school kid can do that." She retorted handing her pony tail to him.

He tied her hair, "But you'd always stare so lovingly on the mirror after I do your braids." Gin worked on the other braid, and did the same procedures, "Because Gin-san's braids are the best in the world."

"Wow. I'm honored." She replied, her voice reigned by sarcasm.

She gave another pony tail to him, knowing he's about to finish the last braid. He looped it on her hair afterwards.

She then raised her hand, with her palm up, looking at him with impatience. Gintoki, without any word, gave his neck tie to her. She laced it around his neck, and started doing a simple knot for the tie.

'We're like a married couple'

He'd always think. Though the remark would just stay hanging on his throat, only to be swallowed and forgotten, then the next day it would resurface again and the cycle would go on and on. It might have successfully left his mouth at times, but it'd only be considered as a jest for his own entertainment. It sounded better left at that.

"By the way, what's for dinner later?" he asked.

She pulled down on the wide end of the tie to tighten the knot. Then look at him, "Just heat up the curry leftover from last night."

"What?! I didn't pay you just to feed me left overs!"

"You don't even pay me." She slid the knot up to adjust it. When she's sure it fitted him well, she moved back, "I'm having a sleepover at Okita's later, so I can't cook for you."

"Okita?! You mean Souichirou?"

"It's Sougo." She retorted.

"Wait. You're eloping with him?! "

"NO!" she sighed, averted her eyes, "I-I'd just…help..t-them…with something."

Now that was suspicious and that flush on her cheeks she hid from him meant something. Unbeknownst to him whose concentration was focused on Toshiko's skeptical actions, his hands had latched on her braids and began playing with them; twirling around, pressing them softly and just holding onto them.

She looked at him, "And it's with Mitsuba-san."

He held the braids higher, reaching her face. Brushing the ends on her cheeks, like they were blush on; eliciting a sour look on her face as if she just ate a lemon.

"Okay. Okay." She was shaking her head against the braids, "The sadist is with us too."―her hair reached her mouth so she let her tongue out―"But it's nothing major. Really."

He set them down, ―not missing her exclusively-for-self whisper 'Stupid Sadist. This was his idea.'― stared at her with an okay-fine-whatever look then scratched his permy head, "Maa, whatever. Just call me when you get there."

Her eyes were on his, "Will do."

He clutched on her braids again and did that make-shift-blush-on maneuver on her cheeks, then going upwards to the ends of her brows.

"Oiii. Just stop it. It's itchy!"

But seems like his hand had a mind of its own, moving despite his command to stop them.

Because, right at that moment, he ―okay, this might sound weird― wanted to kiss away that scrunch at the middle of her brow, then maybe another kiss to her temple, and her cheek, oh, and also the crown of her hair ―because it smelled like lilac…and mayonnaise. He didn't even care if she'd call the police and report him for sexual assault, for real, this time.

He stopped, while she walked towards the bathroom to hang his dampened towel.

He knew the limit of intimacy he could give her. Just little doses of affection, still bordering platonic. A little pat on her head, flick on her forehead, a pinch on her cheek, maybe a playful hug or headlock. Just a thin strain of romance, enough to make her double-think maybe it was for real or yet another tease, to make her blush or flustered, all for his entertainment.

He had been playing well this game of mocking romance, stepping in and out just within the safety of the imaginary line he had drawn between them. But he never, ever, dared to confidently walk beyond the comfort zone. Even with the temptations. He had secured his leash within himself.

And that was better than losing this well-maintained relationship over something trivial.

Yeah, something trivial like a f*cking childish jealousy over the citing of another guy's name, oh, and not to mention a sleepover's at said guy's house. For the first time.

A/N: So, uhhh...this is my first ever GinfemHiji fanfic. omg. Reviews are much appreciated, and constructive criticisms if you may.

It's a two-shot fic btw.

P.S. Anyone interested to be my beta? I'll give you 300 yen. *v*