a/n: This chapter has two parts, which is why it is so long. The first half has porn with feelings. The second half has feelings.
Hopefully, there will be only one more chapter after this!
It turns out that patrolling with his girlfriend probably isn't so much working a shift as much as it is an excuse to make out in the alleyways and to skive off duty while pulling her into seedy establishments in order to play hooky.
Of course, she's not exactly thrilled with it, but mostly he gets away with whatever he feels like doing. He's Sakata motherfuckin' Gintoki, and hey - the series has ended! He's not contractually obliged to stay single anymore, so why would he turn down an opportunity to date the prettiest girl in Edo? Maybe it's true that he's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's not that stupid.
"Enough," she says, after the third time he's pulled her over for a "break". "I'm supposed ta be workin', here! What would my subordinates think if they saw us doing this all the time?"
"That we're in love?" he asks, and predictably, she blushes.
"So what?" she retorts. "I still have a job to do here!"
"Tsukki, you work twenty-nine days out of the month. You've been keeping this city safe since you were what - fourteen? Fifteen? If anyone deserves a break, it's you, isn't it?"
"As opposed ta someone who works two days of the month?"
"You know I deserve those days off," he says, grinning. She mutters something more insulting, but he can't pick up on it, so he chooses instead to pull her into a hug.
"Don't freak out, I get it," and now he's more serious. "You want a proper outing. Well, Gin-san will try his best, so please let him think of something before next time, okay?"
Her mouth is muffled against his shoulder, but he can tell that she's mollified for time being. "Okay."
-x-
Officially, their first date is at a bar. They wreck it, and then they move on to the next, right until the fifth one finally kicks them out and they walk out, dazed when the sunrise greets them with its shining rays of light.
The second date takes place in a bubble tea joint, where Gintoki orders a strawberry flavored monstrosity of a drink with 100% sugar and no ice. She settles for a modest taro milk tea, 25% sugar and some ice, to dilute the sweetness, and then they basically argue about whether the ending of Neon Genesis: Evangelion had any artistic merit to it.
"It's disgustin'," she says ardently, and shakes her cup lightly, so the ice has better distribution through her drink. "That part where Shinji masturbates to Asuka - what was the point of that?"
"You don't know what it's like to be a teenage boy!" he protests, and the conversation takes a turn where the customers start to stare at them. They don't care.
Their third date is at an amusement park, naturally on her dime. She likes the roller coasters. He doesn't, but he takes full advantage of the Ferris wheel.
If any of the Gintama cast spot them together, the protocol has been to deny, deny, deny. They figure it's best to be discreet, even though every time they spot another person they know, the name of the game is to outrun them. Since they're both in relatively good shape, this isn't very hard to do, though he fully expects people to eventually put two and two together.
It's been a very long time since he's been capable of having unadulterated fun without feeling guilty; and he finds that with Tsukuyo, his only obligation is to make her laugh. It's not about protecting someone on his back, nor is it making sure a promise is carried out for a lifetime. Sometimes they argue about stupid stuff - she wants him to eat more vegetables and to visit the dentist probably more than once every a decade - but mostly, they just talk and sometimes make out while doing other things at the same time. It could be her showing him how the latest pachinko machines work, or it could be the fact that she's never had a parfait before. Anything and everything is an excuse provided she's got time off, and for him, she does.
If someone had told him a while ago that dating wasn't actually scary - and make no mistake, he has every reason to be scared of someone who was perfectly capable of ripping his dick off without a second glance - he probably would have done more of it.
The kids probably suspect something, but they don't bother to confront him about it. He's happy, and still not paying them a liveable wage.
The perfect opportunity for their next date comes next week, when he and his kids finish a job dog walking some D-list celebrity's pack of mutts while they're away, vacationing on Planet Waiiha. Once they return the snappy Chihuahuas back to a monstrously garish mansion, Kagura announces "I'm sleeping over at Soyo's," - as if she's not seeing the actual Prime Minister of Japan on a casual basis - and Shinpachi needs to get back to the dojo to do some deep cleaning.
He might have been a bit upset a while ago, to spend another evening with the privacy of his own thoughts, but now's a better opportunity than most. He makes a phone call.
"Come over to my place," he wheedles, and he can almost see her rolling her eyes at the tone of his voice. "I'll even pick you up from the elevators. How about eight o'clock?"
"Fine," she replies, and hangs up. He'd be offended if he didn't know her so well, with her prickly demeanor that just barely disguises a soft interior.
When he arrives, the sky is a bit cloudy, but he doesn't think much of it until he stops by the elevators down to the red light district, turning off the engine to his motorbike. Tsukuyo is predictably on time, waiting for him with a scowl, and he descends with his typical smile.
"Late," she says frostily, but he plucks out a singular hairpin from his pocket - a simple ornament with a crescent moon attached on the end - and carefully tucks it into her hair.
"Sorry," he replies, smirking a bit when her cheeks turn pink at how close they are to each other. "I was, ah, doing some shopping on the surface for some girly things. Wanted to do something uncharacteristic of me, for once. Payment for the shampoo and conditioner, you see."
She flushes even more at his teasing. "I hate you."
He laughs. "No you don't." He tilts his head back a bit, evaluating her profile from the side. "Hm... It looks really good on you."
"Does it?" she asks shyly, but pleased with his praise all the same.
"Yeah. But you've always had a pretty face, so it wouldn't have made a big difference either way."
She tugs at the hem of her kimono, and looks away, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. "Gintoki, you shouldn't have."
"Don't worry about it, I wanted to," he reassured her. "These will last a lot longer than flowers or dango - although, to be fair the Japanese drama was pretty good, too - "
"Gintoki."
"Hm?"
"Shut up," she says, and places a kiss on his cheek. "And thank you."
Now he's the one who's flustered, but he'd be damned if he'd let her see. He turns his head away, coughing loudly before handing her a helmet. "Already ignoring what your boyfriend has to say? Here."
She takes it, the corner of her lips upturned. "Where's yours?"
"Didn't have enough money to buy another one."
"But - "
"Just take it, silly woman. If we don't get back to Kabuki-chou soon, it'll start pouring rain."
"All right," she says.
-x-
The rain comes anyway, sloshing and pouring down on the both of them while he's turning the corner around the familiar seedy district. His white and blue yukata is drenched, and Tsukuyo shivers slightly as he brakes the motorbike, turning off the engine once they're under Otose's rooftop.
"Sorry about this," he apologizes, and they both walk upstairs, where he slides open the door, shucking his boots off. "Wait here," he tells Tsukuyo, and she does, while he rummages in the bathroom for a few clean towels. Tousling her hair dry, she wipes her face clean and then takes off her pink haori to hang dry on a nearby hook, which thankfully, has borne the brunt of the rain.
"Thanks," she says, and now she takes off her boots, too, making sure that it's not too much of a mess in the foyer. Then she hooks off her fishnet stockings and neatly curls them up into a ball for later use, letting her feet breathe for a bit until she has to leave. He's glad for that; the shoes don't seem all that comfortable to be standing on all day.
"Want anything to drink?" he asks, heading to the kitchen after she's settled on the couch.
"Tea, if ya have it."
"Right-o," he replies, and puts the kettle on boil. "Uh, I also got some takeaway before I picked you up from work."
"That's really nice of you."
"It's quite all right," he says. "I cook for the kids all the time, so don't worry about it. It's nice to not have to do it once in a while."
There are plastic boxes filled with croquettes and fried gyoza, and the rice cooker setting is placed on warm. He opens a jar of ponzu sauce and spoons out a bit of sauce into the dipping dishes. When the kettle starts to whistle, he pours boiling water into a mug, letting the tea seep for a few minutes.
He takes a deep breath. Even though they've done things together like overturning the government, fighting bad guys on the run, and through no fault of each other, finding out things that they'd both rather keep to themselves, this is basically uncharted territory for him. So far, they've had a good run of dates, where second base might have been crossed once or twice - but inviting a woman he's basically pledged eternal monogamy to into his apartment... it seems to imply a lot more than whatever they've done so far.
Then again, it's not like he's got that kind of seedy intentions; he's a bastard, but not a complete animal. He's got his favorite movie on - My Neighbor Pedoro 2 - and he's absolutely prepared to make an absolute prat of himself as long as she's comfortable.
There's already a small serving basket of senbei on the coffee table, and she bites into one of the crackers when he comes out with both of their teas.
"Where are the kids?" she asks, after taking a sip of her beverage. "I thought I was going to see 'em today."
"Ah, Kagura's off hanging with a buddy, and Patsuan had to do some managerial duties."
"Oh? If I didn't know you any better, I thought you invited me here ta seduce me," Tsukuyo says playfully, and he scowls.
"Don't be silly," he replies. "I just thought it'd be a nice change of pace to meet on the surface."
"It is," she agrees.
Strangely, the movie doesn't make him cry this time, mostly because he's spent most of his time staring at her, thinking about her, or snacking on sweets. Her feet are propped up on the table, and she being the overly annoying, serious person that she is, analyzes every plot hole and flaw she can think of while the film is playing on his second-hand DVD player. The rain continues to pound relentlessly against the roof.
"But what if Pedoro actually just communicated with the kids?" she asks, bewildered, when the ending credits are rolling. "Then none of this silly trouble with his neighbors woulda happened, and no one would've gotten hurt - "
"Tsukki."
"What?"
"Shut up," he says.
"I'm just saying!"
"It's a friggin' movie," he says. "It doesn't have to be perfectly logical to be a good story."
"But if it's not logical, it'll break immersion," she argues.
"Does it matter? What matters is how people feel," Gintoki explains. "And now, I know you're probably ready to go home, because I'm never going to play you another movie ever again."
"How do those things not bother you?" Tsukuyo asks indignantly. "Like, what about the cheesy special effects, or the staged acting that's designed to make you cry - mmph!"
He shuts her up by the way he knows best; kissing her, pressing her against the back of the couch, letting his fingers weave through her hair. When he retreats, he's greeted with a pink flush.
"Okay. Now you really have to go home," he says firmly. "Lemme call you a cab."
He rolls off her before she grabs him by his sleeve.
"What?"
She's still blushing. "But what... what if I don't want to go home?"
He stares at her, before the implications sink in. He's uncool enough to turn red. "Um... I don't have two hundred million yen on me, Tsukki."
"Hey! Not askin' you to buy me, here."
Okay. Different approach then.
"I don't have any rubbers."
"I've got... some." With a shaky hand she takes out the prophylactics from her pocket.
"Who gave you those?" he asks, actually amazed that someone like the Courtesan of Death is capable of carrying those around.
"Hinowa. She... she said that when a guy invites a woman over to his house, there's one thing they're lookin' for, so I figured better safe than sorry... "
"Is that what you were planning for? Well, I'm afraid to say you can't seduce Gin-san like a cheap lay. He's a gentlemen, not a rent boy."
He expects her to be relieved, but on the contrary, the exact opposite happens.
"You... don't wanna do it with me?" Tsukuyo asks, and now she's actually on the verge of looking sad. Oh, god.
"I do, but not right now," he conceded reluctantly, anything to stop her from making that expression. "But I don't wanna get steamrolled just 'cause we're moving too fast, yeah? You're the first person that's ever made me this happy, and I don't want to fuck it up. I really just wanted to have dinner and a movie, to be honest. "
"You're not gonna fuck it up," she says. "I mean, ya did with other people before, right? Or was that all for show, and you're actually a cherry boy?"
"I'm not a cherry boy! I just haven't done that kinda stuff with virgins!" he argues defensively, not exactly sure why he's trying to self-sabotage him chances of getting laid. "And anyways, it's... been a while since I... did it with someone." (Sober, at least. Even Hasegawa would collectively agree that time didn't count.)
"Oh," she says, and mulls over his words. "But I'm not that inexperienced," she says thoughtfully. "I've been... um... sort of figuring things out."
The implication of it sends a hot curl of desire in his loins, which he valiantly tries his best to ignore. "... What do you mean?"
"I mean I've used vibrators before. Trying to figure out where my hot spots were."
Fuck, that's hot to imagine. He swallows uneasily. "Well, yeah, but sex is a bit different."
"Yeah, of course, but I'm... ready. I've... " Her cheeks bloom. "What I'm tryin' to say is that maybe it's okay to take things fast, because I... I waited for you to come back. So... it doesn't feel all that fast for me. And... maybe we could figure out things together?"
Well, when she put it that way... how could any sane man say no to that kind of offer?
"How many of them have you got, then?" he asks, gesturing towards the condoms.
"Th-three," she stammers, although this time, there's a gentler smile on her face.
-x-
Kabuki-chou has its fair share of love hotels, and it doesn't take long until they spot a place that doesn't look entirely too seedy. Before either of them can chicken out, Tsukuyo tugs him towards the front desk, and they give him a plastic sleeve for his umbrella. He's grateful that he doesn't recognize anybody at the front desk.
Buoyed by her own confidence, they end up in a room which thankfully is clean and free of anything that might ruin the mood. Tsukuyo kneels in front of him, slowly untying the red sash of her kimono, but he can see that her fingers - which normally don't hesitate when it comes to throwing kunais, or knocking his head upside down - are trembling ever so slightly.
He gives her one last get-out-of-jail card. "We really don't have to do this."
"I want to."
Before he can react, her kimono pools around her knees, and holy shit - she's wearing a matching set of lacy black bra and panties. His eyes are riveted, because the last time he's ever seen her body like this was the pool episode - and back then, he'd obviously been in denial of how incredibly hot she was, thinking he had no chance to land someone like her.
"Like what you see?" she teases, and even though she's pink all-around, it doesn't stop her from smirking a little bit.
"Never thought you were ugly in the first place," he snaps back at her. It only boosts her confidence though.
"Wanna touch them?"
Gintoki glares at her, convinced that it's a big trick to get German suplexed, like the rare opportunities/accidents that he's had to grope her. "You're gonna hit me, aren't you? This is another elaborate trap to punk me, isn't it?"
"Promise you I won't."
Her tits are too friggin' big and alluring for him to give up the opportunity, for all his protestations, and so he gives in to his baser natures, cursing himself when his hand touches base with her left breast, squeezing it every so slightly. It's even softer than he remembers.
Her chest heaves, excited by the touch. "What do you think?" she whispers, and he swallows, throat suddenly dry.
"Think you'd better take your bra off," he replies thickly, and she nods a quick assent before reaching behind her, unclasping the undergarment off. The view is spectacular, and though he's spent far more time than he'd preferred imagining what her chest looks like, seeing it in real life has to rank up there with seeing the Mona Lisa. It's just as good as fine art, if you asked his opinion.
He hadn't realized she was this serious about going all the way. He'd been under the impression that at any moment, that she'd panic; to hear her say that she couldn't do this. He thought she'd run off after realizing she was unprepared for the inevitable vulnerability required with such acts of intimacy. It was why some people needed to drink to let go of their inhibitions, why some people needed the heat of passion to abandon all reason before allowing themselves to enjoy having sex with someone.
But it was clear she didn't need those reasons to finally take the next step in their relationship. Her heart had already arrived at a conclusion that would never waver, even as flawed of a human being that he was, and would continue to be.
"You can touch them again, if you like."
"But my nose is gonna bleed if I do that," he says.
"What are you, in high school?" She clucks her tongue, but blushes all the same. They're really not used to doing this kind of thing, which is hilarious considering that they've done infinitely more dangerous and cooler things together, like throwing down despots and killing their masters either in a dark room or the final battle against the universe.
"It's not my fault you're so hot! How about you start touching me instead?" he snaps, already heated and bothered this early in the game. Fucking amateur hour, really.
She's not one to back down from a challenge. "Okay, fine!"
With nimble fingers, she slowly unzips his black shirt down. The sensation gives him goosebumps, and when she reaches the bottom, he shucks it off easily. The tip of her index lightly traces a faded scar that stretches from his pectorals all the way to his shoulder, and her gaze turns unexpectedly serious.
"Where did that come from?"
"The war," he admits. "It was a long time ago."
Now her hand runs reverently across his chest, reading a history of fights and defeats in the ridges and whorls of his skin. For a moment, he can't tell what she's thinking, but the shift in mood calms both of them down. After all, this is their common ground, this is how they met - not in the humdrum of everyday life, but in the heat of battle.
Her eyes are profoundly sad. "Gintoki... "
"Hey. Don't worry about these. It's all in the past." When he finally catches her fingers in his hand and stills them, she meets his gaze. He kisses the back of her hand and then rests it against his cheek. "What matters is that you're in my future now."
He leans towards her and kisses her. He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of it, and this time she responds with a hum of pleasure, letting him explore the crook of her mouth, savoring every press of his lips against hers. His fingers trace her back, dips into her shoulder blades, and skims her skin.
She really was perfect.
Inhibitions finally lowered, he pushes her gently towards the futon and rocks his hips against hers, enough to familiarize him with her body.
He pulls her panties down, and parts her legs.
"What are ya doin'?" she asks weakly, but he just shushes her.
"Opening you up," he says. "Relax, virgin."
She chuckles. "Won't be, for long."
He sucks his fingers, making sure they're sufficiently wet before thumbing her slit. To his surprise, her entrance presses inside his digit with minimal resistance, muscles fluttering around him as he started to work her open.
"Fuck, guess you weren't kidding about wanting this, huh."
"Nnngh."
With care, he slides another finger in, feeling her ridges and softly pressing upwards. If he's lucky, he might be able to find her G-spot, and his suspicions are confirmed when her hips jerk up violently, almost knocking him off kilter.
"Careful, woman! I wouldn't wanna leave you hanging just because you knocked me out too early."
"S-sorry," she apologizes, and he returns his gaze to her face. Unexpectedly, there's a soft sheen of sweat on her skin, a certain heated flush playing across her cheeks as his fingers continues to carefully stroke her, slowly but insistently. She looks wrecked, and in a good way.
He unzips his own pants, pumping himself as he lowers his mouth to the entrance of her heated core. It's not hard for him to find her clit, and as soon as he does, he sucks. She hisses, her fingers tightening in his hair as he continues to lap away in tandem with his fingers, trying to extricate that sweet rhythm of both clitoral and G-spot stimulation. Her hips buck up, once, and he reaches out for one of breasts, cupping them while giving her nipple a good twist.
The way she wails in response, ragged and muffled as she presses the back of her hand into her mouth so that the neighbors can't hear, feels like a surrender of will to him. It's a complete sign of her trust in his hands, and of her submission, if he was in any state of mind to appreciate it.
Instead, it goes straight to his dick.
He pushes a third finger inside her, and by this time she's slick, loosened by the stimulation from before. "Th-there," she chokes out, in a breathy whisper. "Right there, oh god, please, please, please - " Her eyes are glossy, lips wet from licking them.
It's the begging that nearly causes him to lose his mind. He quickens the speed of his fingers, following the same tempo that he's kept up from before, and relentlessly fucks her with his fingers until she comes, wailing again with an intensity that causes her thighs to quiver, the hot liquid sloshing down his palms.
Fuck. If that wasn't an ego-boost of some sort, he doesn't know what that might be.
Still, he's not one hundred percent sure if this means he has permission to proceed further. "You okay?"
She pants, her lungs gasping for air. "Y-yeah. Just give me a minute... "
Splayed obscenely out on his futon, and looking freshly fucked, she's a wonder to behold. None of his previous partners has ever reacted like this to him before, ever. He's humble enough to admit that he's mostly shit in bed due to either being way too drunk to enjoy the experience, not knowing how to properly take off their clothes and ruining the mood, or just lying there, deadfishing it and expecting the courtesans to do all the hard work of riding him to climax. But the look on her face, combined with how vocal she'd been, especially for someone who'd he previously judged to have almost no experience, made him really want to work for it properly.
As expected of a woman of Yoshiwara, he thinks. Sexual compatibility aside, he already feels greedy, like he's asking for too much. It's one thing to have an insanely hot girlfriend in the first place, but to be able to make her cum, like that?
He's a lucky boy, is what he is.
When the flush fades a bit from her cheeks, he rolls over her, teasing her a bit. "Better than your vibrators?"
At this, her inhibitions have lowered considerably to where she admits, "So much better." And then flicks him in the forehead when he smirks. "Don't get a big head, ya beast. We'll see how long you'll last."
"Ow!"
Even when she's in friggin' bed, and naked, she's still got to get a pot shot in or two. Damn the drunk terminator.
She turns her head and fishes out a nearby condom from under his pillow. "Sorry, you'll have to put this on by yourself. I don't really know how ta put these on with my mouth," she says, and he almost chokes.
"Pretty sure you're not supposed to do that!" he says indignantly after snatching it from her, turning bright red for once. Still, the image she paints in his mind is pretty hot and getting him hard. "You really are a woman of Yoshiwara, aren't you?"
She doesn't bat an eye. "Yeah, and so what? Ya want me to be one of those prissy girls who only put out 'cause their husbands are gettin' them the latest Bitch bag?"
It's a fair point. "Okay, fine," he grumbles, and after he kicks off his pants for good, he tears the wrapper and rolls the prophylactic snugly down his shaft. Once its on, he aligns his member to her entrance. Even the barest touch of it causes her to shudder, still sensitive from her orgasm.
"Scared?"
Tsukuyo shakes her head, carte blanche granted.
He moves in slowly, careful not to cause her any discomfort. Maybe she's properly stretched out now, but he's still her first - and with any luck, if she doesn't get sick of his shit any time soon, her only. With a concentrated effort, he gradually sinks inside her, inch by inch. Even with all the foreplay and oral sex they've had beforehand, she still feels incredibly hot and tight around him, and if he was a man with less self-control, he might've cum on the spot.
He groans as he bottoms out, completely inside her now, and for a moment, none of them speak. Gintoki lowers his head onto her shoulder, letting the both of them adjust to his length, and he can feel her lips grazing his ear.
She's the first one to break the silence. "H-how is it?"
"Pretty good," he breathes. "What about you?"
"Never been better."
Like magnets, their lips meet, now kissing slowly and his hand reaches to meet one of hers, fingers curling perfectly over his.
"You know," he admits, still not moving, "I've always thought of you as my woman," he confesses.
She gives a tiny smile as their noses brush against each others'. "Oh? The main character who's supposed to belong to everyone?"
"Your words, Tsukuyo, not mine," he says. "I never said it, you did."
"Well in that case, I'm glad I was wrong."
He lets go of her hand, placing them on her hips, still smiling. "Ready?"
Nodding, she wraps her arm behind his back.
He starts off slow, but steady; and his eyes are on the lookout for any sign of discomfort, but none comes. Each time he sinks forward, he would feel her legs instinctively clench around his hips, pulling him in deeper still.
To think he was going to chicken out from doing this with her almost an hour ago... fuck, he was glad she roped him into this, because right now, everything feels incredible.
His hips rock against hers, angling it up in a position that causes her to cry out in pleasure, and the rhythm of his thrusts turn more frantic. It was almost as if she was swallowing him in every thrust, and he's transfixed at the sight of his cock filling her completely, stretching her full and tight, covered in her arousal. When he finally tears his eyes away from the lewd sight, he sees that her eyes are screwed tightly shut, the back of one hand covering her moans, and another gripping the sheet of the futon so tightly that it might end up torn.
Mine, he thinks. Mine. All mine.
Without missing a beat, he reaches for her hand, and pushes it away from her mouth. "Tsukuyo, look at me," he says urgently. "Tell me what you want."
Her face is a mess, with her hair clinging to her forehead with the combination of both their sweat.
Her eyes are glazed as they meet his. "Gintoki... " Her breaths come out choppy. "I w-wanna come."
"What do you need?"
"C-clit," she gasps, and his thumb instantly presses against it, matching his thrusts. It takes a bit of coordination, but he'd be damned if he finishes before her, and he's rewarded with a squeeze of her muscles, causing him to groan softly.
At this rate, he knows he's not going to last long, either, but he's got a burning need to see her cum. His strokes get a bit shorter and messier, but more intense.
Whether we live, or die, or come, we'll do it together.
The memory flashes in his mind, and it momentarily distracts him before he turns his attention back to the subject writhing beneath him. Under him. Moaning his name.
"Come on then," he cajoles her, his tone half pleading, half authoritative as he's rutting into her with short, snappy movements of his hips; he's trying to chase her release by aiming for her G-spot. "Come for me."
And like magic, she does.
With a piercing wail, her climax catches the both of them off guard, but he can tell the moment it happens because she arches her back, and clenches her muscles around him so tightly that he can barely breathe. He slows down his movements, trying to memorize the look on her face: flushed, totally uninhibited, hair messily splayed across his pillow. This is a very different woman than the kind he's normally used to seeing, and he wants to sear the image of her into his brain because that's his woman. He'd been the only one to make her feel this way, just him, and him alone.
She quivers like a leaf beneath him as the last tremors of her orgasm passes, eyes glossy and curiously blank. He reaches out, wipes away the moisture from the corner of her eyes, and presses one gentle kiss on the corner of her mouth.
He's still inside her, the desire cooling down in his belly. Regardless, he's willing to wait.
"How was that, then?"
There's a puff of air tickling his eyelashes as she chuckles, and he remembers the first time that he laid eyes on her. How about I stab you with something better?
Well, he's done his fair share of the stabbing now.
"Not bad," she says, that dimple appearing in her cheek. "Isn't it your turn, darling?"
It's honestly embarrassing how her voice gets him going, just like that, and he leans into her, and whispers into her ear, "Fuck, you're perfect."
Peppering her shoulders, neck, and chest with kisses, he starts fucking her slow and deep, kindling a deeper desire now that she's already come twice on his account. He moves languidly, as if he has all the time in the world. Even so, it doesn't stop the heat pooling in his stomach, or his balls tightening up.
"Gonna cum soon," he warns, as he presses his face against her neck, feeling her pulse beating like a metronome. She makes a noise of helplessness, shifting her thighs under him before he steadies her. When she raises her hips, the change of angle gives him easier access. He's about to say her name, until he reaches the vinegar stroke.
He's ridiculously close, so, so close -
Before he can even fully prepare for it, a white heat overtakes him, blinding him momentarily as all concept of time vanishes, and nothing matters. He spills himself inside the condom, groaning before he holds himself steady, holding the base of the prophylactic securely before withdrawing from his woman, and tying it into a knot.
His chest heaves as he rolls off to the side, exhausted.
"Holy shit," is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. For a while, that's all they can really do - just to breath, and to let the sweat cool off their bodies. The post afterglow is going to last for a while, and he wants to bask in it for once.
He's actually... happy.
Without giving a thought to rhyme or reason, he reaches out for her hand. She lets him kiss the back of his fingers, gently. Sweetly.
"You were amazing," he says sincerely. On cue, she blushes.
"Thanks. So... so were you."
He's amused by her sudden shyness, and pokes her forehead affectionately. "Oi, oi, what's with this attitude?"
Not that he's complaining. His type has always been a tsundere.
She scowls. "Hey, s-stop talking about embarrassing things!"
He does, and strokes her hair until she falls asleep in his arms, her chest pressed against his. He's aware of the gift he's stumbled across.
And he thinks it might last forever, if he plays his cards right.
But he'll need to get better in different ways. As strong as she is, he still needs to draw on his own inner strength so that he won't drag her down. So in the morning, when she gets dressed for her next shift, he kisses her on the corner of her mouth, and makes another important decision for the two of them.
-x-
"You look different," Hijikata says as they meet up at their usual spot. As always, his fingers are holding a cigarette, his sleeves turned up as he sits on the chair next the countertop. An ashtray rests nearby.
"Oh yeah?" Gintoki asks. "Don't tell me I've grown even more handsome since the last time you saw me. At this rate, I'll be able to land Yoshioka Riho wrapped up in yatsuhashi."
"Hell no!" Hijikata retorts, although the corner of his mouth lifts. "I guess you look... happier."
He turns his head and raises two fingers. "One Hijikata special, and that adzuki bean abomination you call food for the Yorozuya."
The owner of the restaurant grins, used to the two of them by now. "Right-o, coming up!"
"I thought they didn't let you smoke at these joints anymore." Gintoki sits down at the counter next to him.
"Oh, well. They let you do that sort of thing once your boss becomes Superintendent," Hijikata says wryly. He checks his watch. "Anyways, I've got about twenty minutes before I have to get back to my paperwork. What's up?"
"Tch, you workaholic," Gintoki scoffs at the man. "You remember that card you gave me a while ago? Well, I lost it."
Hijikata had been in the middle of taking a drag of his cigarette. The change in his eyes had gone from amused to something more serious. "And... ?"
"I was wondering if you had another one."
Hijikata finishes his drag. He taps it on his ashtray, his eyes never straying from Gintoki's.
"I've got their number," he says quietly. "But... "
"But?"
"This sort of thing, you can't half-ass it," Hijikata says. "You have to tell the truth, no matter what."
"What happens if you tell the truth?"
Hijikata smiles. "You get better."
-x-
Gintoki hated doctors.
But this one had been new. Instead of a sterile room with cold tiles and the smell of antiseptic, he was sitting in an office decorated with paintings and bookshelves around him.
He was seeing... a therapist.
The idea had made him deeply uncomfortable. It wasn't like he was going to a hospital to fix his limbs and stitch him up brand new. It was something a lot more complicated.
But he called the number that Hijikata had given him a while ago, and he was ready for a change. Call it a new era, or whatever it was. He just wanted to shed his baggage, once and for all.
An attractive older woman opened the door. "Sakata-san?"
He jerked his head upwards, and nodded as if to say "I'm here."
"Come in and take a seat."
He does, and settles into a squashy armchair. It's surprisingly comfortable.
"My name is Dr. Kobayashi. But you can call me Midori, if you like."
She smiles encouragingly, and asks, "How are you doing today?"
"I'm pretty normal," Gintoki says, and then he shrugs. "I'll be honest here - I don't really exactly why I'm here."
"That's fine. We'll just see where things go, OK? Why don't you start by introducing yourself to me?"
"Not much to say. My name's Sakata Gintoki... I'm 31 years old, I work freelance jobs. I live in the Kabuki-chou district, and I like sweets and strawberry milk."
There was a pause while the therapist scribbled down a short note.
"But um..." There was a brow furrowed from the samurai. "It's not like I'm... I dunno, insane - "
Midori leaned backwards in her chair. "I assure you that none of my clients are insane."
"So what do you do, exactly?"
"Talk, mostly. Sometimes my clients want a totally objective perspective on their situation. And sometimes, I help them write behavior plans to help them get unstuck from repeating unhelpful patterns or ways of thinking. It depends on what they want."
"Does it... help?"
"I'd say so. The late Sasaki-san was the patron of our health department when he was the chief of the Mimawarigumi." The therapist smiled kindly. "Back when he was dealing with the death of his wife and child, he needed some medical assistance with his depression. Eventually, over time, he enlarged this department to what it is now, and bequeathed most of his fortune to our department. Many of the police force in Edo from time to time, including the Shinsengumi, need help from the stress of being on duty. A fair few of the former Jouishishi make up their forces, believe it or not. In order to keep the unit functioning properly, we try to treat as many of them as we can for deeper psychological problems."
Wife and child...
It's the first time he's heard about it, but it made sense. Zura had mentioned reparations for the lost samurai of the Joui wars, but he hadn't expected it to go this far.
Gintoki sighed. "That texting guy? He never stopped caring, huh..."
"At the end of the day, it's your choice. You're eligible to sign up for half a years' worth of sessions, one every two weeks. We can try a session for now and see if you would like to come back in a few weeks if it suits you. Everything you say or do in this office will remain confidential."
"Okay." And he sighed. He already felt ridiculous at the idea of talking in order solve his problems, feeling every bit of the weight of thirty one years on his shoulders pressing down on him. There wasn't much for him to pontificate, in his opinion. His life felt too complicated to untangle what it all meant - and in front of a stranger, no less, who was paid to care. He wasn't actually sure if he still wanted to confide in anybody.
Maybe I'll just talk uselessly for half a year, but if it gets rid of these panic attacks, it'll be worth it...
"How would you describe yourself, Sakata-san?"
"It's Gintoki," he said curtly, before clearing his throat. "I mean, most people don't use my surname. It's just... weird."
The therapist smiled. "No problem," she said smoothly. "So, again - how would you describe yourself, Gintoki?"
"I guess I'm a samurai. I took in two kids and a dog. Um... like I said, I like sweets. My doctor and girlfriend says I'll get diabetes if I keep it up, but so far I've been okay, I think."
"How would your friends describe you, then?"
"Irresponsible asshole, probably. I guess they'd say I drink a little too much, but they all know that I care about them. Even if I don't pay the rent, even if I'm sort of a loser, they'd all risk their life for mine if it came down to it."
"You sound like a good friend."
He laughed hollowly. "I'm not. No I'm not."
Midori leans into him. "Tell me about it. Why don't we start from the beginning?"
-x-
Tsukuyo is smoking while they're lingering in the evening, resting in between stages of sleeping with each other and sleeping next to one another. Tonight, they're in the zashiki room - this time in Yoshiwara, because she'd been working all day.
"So, how was it?" she asks, her bathrobe barely concealing her chest.
"It was okay," Gintoki said. His head was on her lap, eyes closed. "I wouldn't say it was a pleasant experience. I thought the doctor was pretty hot, though."
She whacks his forehead.
"K-kidding," he says hastily, though he bites back a laugh. He's grown too fond of her temper, he thinks.
The therapist had asked him a lot of questions, and it had felt like a huge intrusion of privacy. He wasn't used to people being so upfront about dissecting him, and there were times where he wanted to bolt.
But he forced himself to stay there anyway, in order to tell the truth. Even the ugly ones. As uncomfortable as it was, it had been oddly liberating, just to talk about things he didn't normally talk about.
Midori been interested in Takasugi, and would ask him about his early memories. Some of them had collected dust in his head - like the time they'd fought over who was supposed to be the next person to play Portopia. He'd almost forgotten how violent his relationship was with him back then.
"Hmm," Tsukuyo hums, and she threads her fingers through his hair, her index circling his scalp. It's an oddly soothing gesture.
"Keep doing that," he mumbles, right before he takes deeper breaths, and she does.
He falls into a dreamless sleep not too long after.
-x-
Despite her reluctance, Tsukuyo lets him do everything and anything to her. Their first time together was sweet, but the subsequent trysts after aren't.
It feels right, not wrong. She understands what he needs, and complies without a complain. She studies him; and adapts accordingly. And neither does she push for more or oversteps her boundaries; she just lets him take as much as he wants. To give him the space to act selfishly, for once. After all, he's tired of being selfless after years and years of internalizing his burdens, of carrying enough sins to live in the deepest rungs of hell.
There are hundreds of seedy love hotels that proliferate Yoshiwara. Sometimes he picks one that catches his eye. But most of the time, they fuck wherever the closest place is when her shift ends. Him on top of her, or her, straddling her hips on his. Him, always watching her, memorizing the look in her eyes as she shatters into a million pieces, leaving behind an inexorable, glorious mess. Her, taking advantage of his weakness for big boobs and tiny waists, always hurtling him towards the brink of a tiny death whenever she takes the lead. Her, loving how his palms touches her body, and getting to know every inch of her skin, lined with a million faint scars, glittering in the night and fading by daylight. Them, fitting together perfectly like they were made for each other.
(Maybe they weren't - but it doesn't matter. He's never subscribed to the notion of soul mates, and neither does she.)
The nightmares are mostly gone. When one comes back in a roaring vengeance, he turns over. Wakes her up with a kiss. Fucks it away like a bad coping mechanism, but this time the person he's doing it to doesn't mind and arches her back when he hits her right spots.
They don't have to impress each other. Not anymore.
Laugh when you want to laugh. Cry when you need to cry.
When you're tearing up with an ugly face, I'll give you a good cry with an uglier face. When you're laughing so hard your stomach hurts, I'll laugh in a louder voice.
That's how it should be.
-x-
After the fourth or fifth session, Midori asks him, "What's your goal at the end of these sessions?"
Gintoki has to think about it, and he thumbs the USB drive in his pocket. "I don't really have one," he admits. "I just... want to be better."
Good enough to be someone's husband, maybe. Or least only drink to have fun, rather than to drown my sorrows.
"You'll get there," she reassures him.
He actually likes the therapist, for what it's worth. She's nice and pretty, and tends to be supportive. At first he'd been skeptical of the treatment, thinking that she wouldn't be able to relate to him at all.
But perhaps that was the general appeal of it.
He didn't really want anyone who knew him in real life to know all the ugly details of his history.
Even if they understood what he'd went through since then.
She had given him a prescription for a low dosage antidepressant a few weeks ago, and though he didn't really want to take them, he did it anyway. So far, it'd been okay. It hadn't really made him a zombie as of yet.
He'd been dreading this session for a while, mostly, because they'd wrapped up most of the Joui war. And he wasn't sure if he was ready to talk about... that.
But it'd been over a decade, and a lot of things had changed since then.
So maybe it was the right time.
"Last time we left off," Midori says, clicking her pen, the tip pressed to her legal notepad, "You were camped in Tojinbo. And what happened?"
His hand clenches, and starts to shake. He steadies it with the other.
Gintoki takes a deep breath. "We were ambushed. Probably had less than fifty guys at this point."
"I see."
"It was horrible timing," he admits. "We thought it'd been safe. So we let our guard down, because we were so tired. It was a roundabout route to Edo... Zura had been trying to convince the Kyoto faction to send over more troops. But obviously, it didn't happen."
Keep talking, he tells himself. Just keep talking.
"And then, the crows came and tore everything - everyone - apart." A lump forms in his throat. "We were no match for them, and I... "
His voice drops off.
He slowly unscrews the cap of a water bottle, and takes a drink. The chilled water calms his throat.
The therapist waits.
"Zura was the first one who was captured."
He takes another sip of water.
"After that... it was Takasugi. He'd been fighting four of them at the same time, but eventually even he couldn't hold them off."
His vision gets blurry.
"And then they brought out Sensei, and then we knew what they were trying to do. We didn't need to hear what they said, because... because... "
Now his nose is runny, too. The therapist pushes a tissue box towards him, and he grabs one automatically.
"We knew what they were trying to do. Pick your master, or your friends. But not both. And... and somebody in that group had to know how close I was with Shoyou-sensei, because I was the only one left standing."
He wipes his nose, although by now he knows it's not going to stop.
"I was trying to think of a way to save all of them. And I couldn't - one of my legs had been slashed with one of their poison needles - and I knew that even if I rescued one of them, they'd just kill the others."
"So I... " Gintoki stops, and takes a deep breath. "So I walked up to Shoyou-sensei, and I... "
He's relived this moment thousands, if not millions of times. In his head, in his dreams, and in real life, too, especially when Utsuro had been resurrected.
So why was it so hard to talk about it?
Regardless, he pushes on.
"I was thinking, I'm sorry. And I was going to say it to him, and I had my words ready. I walked up to him, and then he turned his head. He looked at me..."
The tissue crumples in his palm.
"He knew what I was going to do, and then he told me something I'd never forgot. He said, Thank you."
Gintoki laughs a little bit. "You know I was only seventeen, maybe eighteen at the time?" His palm is shaking. "Anyways, I knew then I had to do it then, otherwise I'd chicken out. So I... "
He makes a gesture with his index finger, running the tip of it across his neck.
"That was why I couldn't tell him all the things I wanted to say. I always thought I was going to come back to him, even if it happened to be in prison, and have all the time in the world to tell him thank you for picking this snot-nosed brat in the middle of fucking nowhere. But I didn't. Couldn't."
He lets out a shaky breath. "I was watching his body crumple when Takasugi ran at me. I knew he wanted to kill me. I probably would've let him, to be honest, but then, one of the crows threw a knife at him. So, he ended up with one of his eyes gouged out. After that, the crows finally left. They took his body, though. They left his head for the three of us, as if they were doing us a favor... "
All three of them had been too horrified with the events that had happened to protest it at the time.
"Takasugi was knocked out from the blood loss, so Zura bandaged him up as best as he could," Gintoki said, his voice growing more and more hollow. "And I just. Stood there. I couldn't even look at any of them..."
The therapist looks at him, very still. The pen had been laid down a while ago.
Very calmly, she says, "That would have been a normal reaction from anybody, Gintoki. It was a hostage situation."
"Yeah, I guess so," he says. He takes another sip of water. Takes another breath.
He still wasn't finished.
"When Takasugi came to, I knew he wanted to kill me. But for some reason, he wouldn't. He was holding back on me, because he knew he would've done the same thing in my position."
There's a thread sticking out from the armchair that he's sitting on. He picks on it, noting the pattern of the armrest.
"But in the end, he couldn't forgive me. And that was what hurt me the most, because he couldn't escape his feelings - he couldn't forgive himself for letting that happen on his watch. Or me. I thought, maybe he'd understand someday, but he and I... We're the same. If he'd killed our teacher, I would've hated him too. I'm no better than him."
The corner of his lip turns up, ever so slightly. "It took us ten years to talk about it. And I'm glad I did, because he's dead now. They're both dead."
The best he can hope for now is that the two of them are happily reunited in a place he can't reach, even though Gintoki isn't really sure if there's an afterlife out there.
Midori's voice is soft. "I'm sorry to hear about that, Gintoki."
He shakes his head. It's not that he dislikes the apology.
It just didn't matter.
There'd been nothing profound about the loss. Unlike in books and movies, and even the manga he was so terribly fond of, there had been no sudden epiphany to justify the tragedy. The grief had stretched and destroyed lives; it had ensnared him and Takasugi in the direction of nothing but destruction and despair.
But this time, Gintoki will write his own narrative.
He's not just an ex-war criminal, shackled by the chains of history. Nor is he a former prison inmate. Or even a general, good-for-nothing ronin.
No.
He's more than that.
He's also a father of two good, strong kids and the best dog anyone could've asked for.
He's a friend to the rich and poor, the loved and the lonely, and to the ones who'd lost anything and everything.
He's a man who is in love, with another real, living being, despite all the walls he'd built around himself in order to keep himself safe.
Sakata Gintoki won't let his past, caged so long by his own silence, control his heart or his soul anymore. And with every word he speaks out loud, he begins to heal - softly, but surely.
-x-
At the end of the session, Midori had upped his dose of antidepressants.
Gintoki went outside of the building. He took a deep breath, letting the chill of it settle into his lungs. The therapist had fixed him a hot cup of tea after it was clear that he couldn't continue with the session any longer, and once she had made sure that he was okay, had ordered him to call someone to take him home.
Tsukuyo was waiting for him. The snow had fallen on the streets, covering it in a blanket of white.
She took a long look at his face, and then without a word, gently brushed the snow from his hair with her hand.
He pulled her into a hug. She smelled like smoke and flowers.
"Are you okay?"
"With you, I will be," he murmured.
- tbc -
a/n: The therapist is named after one of my favorite characters in Norwegian Wood, written by Haruki Murakami. In that book, she also is a healer of the protagonist's spirit, who, like Gintoki, suffers from survivor's guilt.
I wrote this chapter because I ship Gintoki x Happiness like everyone else. It's wish fulfilment. Do I think it's realistic in the Gintama universe? No. But considering how many mental health problems Gintoki has, I thought him getting treatment for it instead of his usual methods of self-medication (alcoholism), would be an absolute must if he wanted to stay in a healthy relationship with someone. Oh, and Sasaki probably has a fund for people who can't afford therapy, which is probably how Gintoki can afford it. *laughs*