After a very long time, here's another one-shot for this lovely compilation! This takes place in my other Gintoki x Sougo fanfic, 17th Precinct's universe.
Sick
Sougo wondered how and why it had ended up like this, with him standing at the doorstep to his superior's house. He shot a glare at the doorbell and then another one at the bag in his hand. His sister had insisted, and being the obedient younger brother that he was, he was now here to deliver lunch to his sick boss.
Wiping his suddenly clammy hand against his clothed thigh, he slowly raised a finger to the doorbell. Hesitating before he could actually push the button, he pulled back for probably the fifth time. Fighting the urge to fidget some more and to perhaps wipe down his hand again, he screwed his eyes shut and pushed the button—probably with more force than was necessary.
His brows drew closer and closer together as the seconds ticked by, fighting the urge to simply turn on his heel and flee the scene much like many suspects he'd had to chase down on the clock.
He was snapped out of his nervous rambling thoughts when a crash resounded from the other side of the door followed by a string of loud if not slightly slurred curses. The door was wrenched open soon after to reveal the flushed face of the chief. He really did not look too well.
"Uh, hey boss. My sister asked me to drop by with some food when I let slip you were sick," he drawled in his usual deadpan tone. It wouldn't do for his superior to know how nervous he actually was just standing there.
Red eyes blinked blearily at Sougo's face, squinting against the harsh sunlight beating down on them. He was probably slightly hazy with the fever. "Ah, Okita," he said sluggishly after another moment of squinting, stepped back into the shade of his house and let the younger man in.
Okita blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim room. He took his time taking in his surroundings. A shelf by the front door displayed a collection of photos of co-workers and friends—many of whom Sougo recognized. The living room was nothing out of the ordinary. There was a deep blue couch with some mismatched cushions, a worn coffee table that had a few knick knacks strewn about it. A stray magazine could be found here and there on the carpeted floor, and a plasma TV took up most of the wall. There was a bookcase on the far left corner of the room by two large windows overlooking the front lawn.
As he followed a swaying Gintoki to the kitchen, he could see the kitchen was pretty well-stocked, and the place itself was fairly clean for a guy living on his own. He placed the bag on the counter, careful to not knock anything off.
"Tell your sister I said thanks," the silver-haired man said. His voice was scratchy from a sore throat. Not wishing to remain standing any longer, he dragged a chair out from the corner of his kitchen where the dining table was and plopped into the chair. He hated the flu. Of all times to get sick, it had to be in the middle of fucking summer.
"Okay. I'll just heat some of this soup up and make a few simple things, and then I'll go." And he went about discovering his way around the foreign kitchen. Making a few simple dishes and reheating a bowl of soup wouldn't take long. Though he didn't often cook as that was his sister's specialty, it didn't mean he was a dunce in the kitchen. He cooked fairly well, and thanks to his sister, knew all the basic culinary skills. If anything, his sister had made sure he wouldn't starve.
"Mhm," Gintoki murmured sleepily in response, laying his head against his folded arms. He watched the younger man cook through teary and sleepy eyes. It wasn't long before he was dead to the world, lulled into the world of dreams by the sounds of a meal being prepared. The rhythmic chopping of a knife against a cutting board, the stirring of the pot, and the occasional clang of a lid was surprisingly comforting to a man who lived alone. Minus the weekly visit by Shinpachi who had taken it upon himself to make sure the kitchen was stocked with food as Gintoki never had time to go grocery shopping, no one else really stepped foot into his kitchen.
It wasn't long into his cooking that he noticed the chief had fallen asleep. Cooking while trying not to stare too hard was a difficult task but he managed without burning down the kitchen or overcooking the rice. By the time he had everything laid out and covered, he was fighting hard not to jump the unconscious man. Who knows what would happen to his career if he did!
"It's wrong to molest sick people while they sleep" ran through his head like a mantra before he eventually hightailed out of there.
When Gintoki awoke to the world of the living again, he found himself once again alone in the house with the lingering smells of a cooked meal. Sitting up, he glanced at his shoulder and found one of his spare blankets wrapped around him. Set before him was a bowl of soup, a plate of something that looked like vegetables and meat chopped finely and another smaller bowl of rice. Sougo had covered it all in saran wrap. From the looks of it, everything was still warm.
A post-it that the young man had probably torn off the coffee table's stock was stuck to the table, and it read "Get better soon boss. It's no fun pissing off Hijikata without an accomplice" in neat script. Gintoki had to admit it was never a pain to read through the man's reports unlike his partner's messy scrawls.
Taking his time in uncovering the food, he began eating. It really wasn't bad at all. The chicken soup was absolutely delicious, and although the dish Sougo put together couldn't compete with his sister's, it was still fairly good. The young man had even taken care to cut everything finely so it would be easier to swallow.
Well, it looked like he owed his subordinate a date now. It was only right to return what you owed. A meal for a meal sounded good.
Four days later, Sougo nearly jumped in surprise when his phone vibrated on his desk and an unfamiliar tone pierced through the silence of the office. He didn't remember changing his ringtone. Confused, he picked his phone up and glanced at the display. Oh, a text message. No wonder he didn't recognize the sound. He rarely ever received texts. His sister, the only person who ever really bothered to contact him, always called instead; she hated how impersonal text messages were. Wondering who it was, he flipped his phone open and stared in minor shock at the message written there.
"From: Gintoki Sakata
Meet me at parking lot afta work. It's a date. ;)
All the sweets belong 2 Me!"
The signature was so like his chief that the wheat-haired man couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. A flash of silver had his eyes automatically looking up only to catch a wink the silver-haired man threw his way. Mortified and for some reason feeling extremely shy, he focused back on his paperwork. A date, huh. He could get used to those, he supposed. He'd only been crushing on his boss ever since he transferred.