Either Mess With The Universe Or Don't; You'll Face The Consequences Either Way

So. Here's the knot of the sitch:

Gintoki is sitting in a nondescript interrogation room and he's being, surprise, interrogated.

About a misdeed he's, surprise, surprise, not responsible for—for once.

Of course this doesn't mean he's got to bite his tongue about it.

Crossing his arms over his chest in an unsubtle manner that eschews further cooperation, he leans back in the uncomfortable chair, the 'squeeeak' of it drilling into his eardrums.

"Oh, please, you're letting me in. How serious can it possibly be?"

Sougo doesn't try to conceal the snort under his breath. "Touchè."

Hijikata looks fairly flabbergasted, mostly because, once in a blue moon's phenomenon, he seems to be agreeing with him.

Gintoki has to mark the day on his calendar.

Now, as to how did he manage to land himself in the hornet's nest? Well...

.

.

.

He's been on the hunt for Jump's latest issue since a thorough wake up call this early morning that may or may have not involved ditching responsibilities and throwing shinobi in trash cans, but honestly who's keeping count?

As soon as he steps foot outside the little mom-and-pop supermarket he finally found his treasure trove in, a wet, prickling sensation hits him square on the forehead. Raising his head, he's hit again, and again, and—oh, it's raining.

"Are you trying to screw with my life today or is this purely coincidental?" Gintoki questions the universe aloud.

The universe doesn't deign him of an answer.

'Fine.' He grumbles to himself. 'Since I can't go back like this and risk ruining my precious Jump, I'll just wait it out.'

Besides, how much can a spring rain actually last? In a matter of minutes it will be over, right?

...Wrong.

The rain seems pretty much bent on being incessant, but by that point Gintoki had lost his fight to impatience and delved into the throes of being a voracious reader. Which means, more often than not, getting swallowed whole into your world of choice, so much so you fail to grasp at an afar but very much real... reality.

Therefore, the looming shadow in the near distance growing in size escapes his notice. Until something, or rather someone, is whacking him into a head-on cometary collision.

'...Okay, I must have really pissed you off somehow.' Gintoki grunts to the universe from inside the confines his own mind.

The universe replies with some more petty rainfall. Because it wasn't enough already, was it?

He groans, more out of actual frustration than real pain, and sluggishly manages to maneuver himself into a sitting position. His apparent meteorite now lies unconscious on the ground, sporting a spiky maroon mohawk and daubed from head to toe with tawdry tattoos. Judging at first glance, as Gintoki is wont to do, it could be someone belonging to a gang.

Then happens to see what happened to be the cause of the poor moron's fate.

Or rather, who.

The Shinsengumi's Vice-Chief is standing a few feet away, fist dropping back by his side, smoke faintly swirling the air as he takes one long drag. "That's what you get for disrupting the peace in this town."

Gintoki's eyebrow twitches significantly. "Hey. Over here, hello? What am I, chopped liver?"

Hijikata, not even bothering a wince of surprise upon discovering his presence, just replies. "Chopped liver has its uses, unlike you."

Gintoki is left gawping at him from the ground. Offended.

Hijikata glances down at him, smirk curling around threaded smugness. "Pick your jaw off the ground, Yorozuya."

Oh, oh, he has the gall to call him Yorozuya now too? Does he think it makes him come across as cool or something?

Because Gintoki indisputably doesn't think so.

So he finally airs out his frustrations, pointing accusingly. "Oi, oi, oi, are you kidding me right now!? The hell you think you're doin', buddy? Throwing around thugs like cheap toilet paper? Did you do that just so you could tack on that cool line of yours at the end? Did you rehearse it too? I bet you did, didn't you?" Effective pause here to, in turn, tack on an exaggerated gasp. "Aren't you a police officer, shouldn't you be concerned with the safety of the poor, innocent civilians you vowed to protect?"

"Poor? Undoubtedly. Innocent? I don't think so." Hijikata rebukes calmly. "Honestly, with your amount of offense and obstruction to justice you should be seized on the spot. And to answer your previous question, this is a criminal. And he's been neutralized before he could inflict any more damage." The man lets out a cloud of wispy smoke amid the drizzling rain, eyes narrowing in that quality of defiance only he seems to possess. "You're welcome."

Gintoki scoffs, craning away his neck. "Please, don't make me laugh, I haven't had my morning cup of strawberry milk just yet."

Hijikata looks skyward in lieu of an eyeroll. "...do you even know what coffee is." The man mutters under his breath.

Bypassing that, Gintoki digs for some much needed indignation. "For your information, the damage was done. I was shot down like a domino! Hit by a gigantic, kitsch and maroon spiky rock! The concussion will buy me a week-long, at least, stop-off at the hospital, I'll need heaps of sugar just to make it through the convalescence. And you're footing the bill for all of it." He lets him know, concernedly patting his head for good measure.

"What are you even drivelling on about over there? You don't have so much as a scratch on you...and like hell I'll pay for any of that hogwash, you were clearly the one standing like a moron in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Hijikata fires back.

"It was just happenstance that I happened to be there." Gintoki explains his reasonable defense. "You on the other hand should've known better where to aim your trash!"

"I guess these 'spot the difference' pastimes are getting harder by the day, huh." Hijikata exhales another smoky cloud, appearing a liiiittle too pleased.

Gintoki jerks back at the implication. "First of all? How dare you. Second of all, I'll have you know the pain is there, it's just internal, I keep it inside to forge my inner walls and make myself stronger, Ogushi-kun." He waves a humble hand away from his turned face. "'Hero' might be an overused word...except in this case, I'll allow it here."

The Vice-Chief's brow twitches in exasperation. "There sure is damage, but your brain's the recipient. Is the perm actually there to make up for your lack of intelligence?...And that's not my name, who the hell is this Ogushi anyway?!"

Gintoki clutches his head protectively. "My brain is in top-notch shape. In fact, I was born with superior intellect."

"Literally no one believes that. Please stop deluding yourself, it's sad to see."

He ignores the latter comment, focusing on the former. "You should know by now that the self-appointed wig-wearer of the show is Zu–I mean, not me. At least my unruly perm is attractive, can't say the same for the stringy strands stuck all over your face. What do you wash it with, mayonnaise?" Gintoki pantomimes gagging, just to get his point across.

Toshiro is at his limit already, and morning's not even done. He tries to maintain a sense of placidity through his thinning composure, but honestly he's just about to unleash his sword on the idiot. Or strangle him to death. Or any combination of both.

Then a faint noise distracts him from acting on his impulsive thoughts. Like they say, saved by the bell...or the two-way radio he keeps on himself at all times, as it's the case. Hastily, he takes hold of it and quickly answers, awaiting a reply.

The message is fairly unsurprising. As expected, he's expected to bring the suspect back to headquarters for an impromptu interrogation, and a witness to back this particular case, Kondo will proceed from there.

What staggers him is the lacking crowds, not another soul for seemingly miles.

Toshiro had hoped to catch two birds with one stone by bringing back the bunch of teens the hoodlum had been harassing earlier on when he'd sprung up on him. Only to see that the place has been left deserted...except for himself, Idiot #1 and Idiot #2.

The cigarette in his mouth crunches with the pressure of his teeth grinding. He lifts two fingers to his temple, trying to conquer the migraine that's taking place.

'...Is this a joke?'

Not only has he seen the bastard for two consecutive days, but now he has to spend even more time alongside him?

...what is wrong with the universe?!

During Hijikata's inner monologue, Gintoki busies himself with dusting off and finding a secure spot to store the new issue of Jump, which thankfully survived the rough treatment they both ended up being on the receiving end of, the magazine in far better shape than he's in.

Just when he's about to slip his hand out of his yukata, (the safe spot where he put the comic, tucked into his chest, close to his heart) he feels a cooling sensation circling his wrist.

Upon a downward glance, his eyebrow twitches.

"...what the hell are you handcuffing me for? Have you finally gone mad!? The lowlife you're supposed to cop is lying right there on the ground passed out! Do I need to tell Patsuan to lend you his glasses now? Of course nothing in this life comes so gratuitously." Gintoki's irritation levels are spiking through the roof now (even if he's still trying to milk every opportunity for a fee of some kind).

"I know who I'm supposed to take in custody, moron. But you're coming with as well. You being the only witness and all." Hijikata explains somewhat absent-mindedly as he crouches to lift Idiot #1.

"What are you talking about? I didn't see anythin–hey! I was reading when you struck me down!"

Hijikata halts to raise an unsubtle, skeptical brow his way.

"What? What? I can read. It's not outside my realm of understanding, I can assure you."

The Vice-Chief resumes his task, doesn't even glance his way as he throws the oversized meteorite excuse of a man over his shoulder and walks the short distance to the vehicle he parked nearby with effortless ease.

Gintoki is not impressed. Not even a little bit. Not even a smidgen. Why would he be, when he can do the very same with eyes closed? Nope. Not even a half of a smidgen.

"And here I thought the concept of literacy development was lost on you." Hijikata retorts as he slams the passenger seat shut on the passed out hooligan.

Gintoki's features scrunch in a half-hearted grimace. "Uhh, I think my third grade teacher once told me the exact same thing?"

"...you know what, I'm not dignifying that with a response."

"Yep, you and the universe got that common denominator going strong for ya, alright." Gintoki mumbles to himself, fidgeting with the cuffs. "You know what, whatever, I don't care if you don't believe me, there are plenty of people around who can testify to that–"

...except for the fact that, after giving his surroundings a thorough once-over, he too finds out there's no one around who could vouch for him and his exceptional reading skills, nevermind trade places with him.

Apparently everyone got quite the scare from the scene these two rascals had caused a few minutes prior and fled as fast as they could. Not to mention the lack of people in this weather and at this time of day to begin with. So, that only left Gintoki himself, Moron#1 and Moron#2.

"...Well, isn't this just great." He grumbles to himself.

"Tell me about it." Hijikata returns, just as sarcastically.

But then, something else occurs to him. "Wait. If I'm just a witness then why do I also need to be restrained?"

"This way you won't be able to stir any unnecessary trouble." Hijikata easily replies.

"Hey, I never meddle with trouble! They just know where I live!" Gintoki exclaims in a way that suggests this would be obvious to anyone who knows him.

"...just get in before I end up killing you for being a nuisance." Hijikata is the one to grumble this time, before adding a whiplash quick, "And don't you dare touch anything!"

"News flash, jerkwad, you can't kill me for that! You can't so much as arrest me for that!"

"You wanna find out what I can do, you imbecile!?"

The two keep glowering at each other like rabid dogs ready to skin each other alive over a chewed bone.

Officially, the day has just turned for the worse.

After arguing for a good five minutes on the curb of the barren street, Gintoki finally gets—is actually unceremoniously shoved—inside the car. In the passenger seat, because Moron#1 decided to take up every inch of available space left in the backseat, him being big and unconscious and all. Which Gintoki finds just rude. Being insentient sounds like such a blessing right now as opposed to riding shotgun to an irritated Vice-Commander.

Hijikata throws him a cursory glance. "Seatbelt."

"Seriously?" Gintoki throws him back a glare, just as displeased. "S'not even that long of a drive."

The man's expression speaks louder than his words do, the"It's not up for discussion" hanging clearly in the air as Hijikata makes a show of waiting.

So he's patient when he wants to get his way, huh? Gintoki curses him inside his head.

But he makes a show of rolling his eyes.

Of course he'd be a pain in the neck over this too. Well, he supposes there are worse cops out there, than the one in here implementing safe driving.

But, just to be more annoying, Gintoki emphatically shakes his bound hands, the dangling cuffs driving his point across for him.

Hijikata bites back on an exasperated sigh and a retort.

Irritated, but with his unspoiled penchant for rule-abiding and an overdeveloped sense of responsibility, of course he wouldn't pass up the opportunity to enforce. Especially with Gintoki being in an almost cooperative mood, and it makes it that little bit harder for Gintoki to suppress a winning smirk.

Hijikata leans over the console and swiftly grabs hold of the harness, whilst Gintoki does absolutely nothing to help, but he doesn't hinder him either, and watches the other man as he pulls the strap over his torso and towards himself.

And, in an almost unnoticeable motion, the back of his hand ends up brushing his abdomen.

Gintoki notices.

It's an unnervingly lengthy, slow-motion, airless moment that goes by. In which the outside world melts down to the muted hush of the lightweight rain sputtering down a blurrying glass pane, like tears raining across a pale cheek. Down to the lukewarm wet skin of Hijikata's hand, still gently pressed against his stomach, frozen. Down to Gintoki's threadbare breathing, treacherously betraying his reaction to the action.

They both pause, eyes moderately widening and unwittingly taking each other in, in the given moment.

They spring apart in unison.

As if sprayed with a frigid shower of ice, when heat is coloring the sudden space between them with fireflies of warmth.

Hijikata finds his footing first, and quickly finishes buckling in his seatbelt for him, fumbling for half a second only (and that's actually something, since Gintoki privately thinks he would fare worse if the roles were reversed, and undoubtedly end up making a fool of himself).

Meanwhile, Gintoki surreptitiously plasters himself flat against the seat, avoids even breathing in his same oxygen.

This is prospecting to be one long day.

. . .

a/n:

i honestly see Toshi stubbornly practicing his lines in the mirror but with a constant deadpan, like the one in this chapter /"That's what you get for disrupting the peace in this town."/ over and over till he gets 'em just right cause he wants to deliver and wants a cool delivery at the same time.

you're welcome for the mental image.