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rainsometimesI wrote a Ginzura shortfic for the on-going Ginzura Fest over on Twitter!
Inspired by the prompt set "protect | image-change | reunion", where "image change" was the prompt I seized on the most, which I combined with an older prompt from over a month ago from elsewhere, namely "bath".
Many thanks to Sparda andtonko for giving this shortfic a look-over and pointing out how to improve it! ♥♥♥
As always, feedback is very much welcome, including nitpicks and constructive criticism!
Fandom: Gintama
Characters/Pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Title: Can’t Wash You Out Of My Hair (You Doofus)
Word count: 778 as I post this
Spoilers/Setting: Set almost two weeks or so after the Benizakura arc. Probably no later - Gintoki heals fast!
Summary: Katsura is washing Gintoki’s hair. That’s pretty much it.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: The Gintama characters are owned by their creator Hideaki Sorachi. They are used here without permission for entertainment only. Not to be reposted elsewhere without the writer’s approval.
“I heard you were recuperating in Shinpachi-kun’s home.” Katsura’s voice was low but clear in the hot, steamy bathroom. His fingers were diligently working in shampoo into Gintoki’s unruly natural perm.
He’d stripped down to just his white underkimono, but Gintoki couldn’t see it anymore; he’d just closed his eyes to avoid getting shampoo in them. He grunted. “Some recuperation. All the crazies just came around there instead, I got mangled and trampled from them and the booby traps. Ended up having to rest from the resting.”
“I’m glad your wounds are healed up enough that you can take a bath now.” That wasn’t said as a question. Katsura had made sure.
“Mhm.”
Shinpachi had apparently run into Zura in the grocery shop earlier and not been able to keep his mouth shut that Gintoki wasn’t up on his feet yet and Kagura hadn’t been sleeping well lately, since she kept waking up to go check on Gintoki, even though Gintoki kept telling her he was long out of any danger. Zura had then turned up at the door at Odd Jobs two hours ago with a very stubborn expression that said you’d need either hours of patience or the strength of a Yato to keep him out, and Kagura hadn’t bothered to boot him out. Instead she’d shoved him in Gintoki’s direction telling telling him to take care of Gin-chan, it was the last he could do, then made her way downstairs probably to gorge herself on all the snacks in the bar.
Kagura actually seemed more mellow towards Zura right now than she’d ever been. It would probably disappear once his hair grew long again, thought Gintoki, sinking deeper into the hot, soothing bathwater.
“Will you hold still?” said Zura, tone annoyed. He pulled at Gintoki’s hair.
“Ow, ow, ow, stop it!” Gintoki splashed him and reflexively tried to yank Katsura by the hair in return, only for his hands to meet air. He would have reached up further for the sake of it, but the angle was all wrong and his hair was still full of shampoo. “Just get on with it if you have to, I didn’t ask you to do anything!”
“I can see the way you grimace when you move your arms too much right now,” Zura pointed out. “You’re well enough to climb into a bath and sit still there, nothing more.”
Gintoki grunted again, more grumpily this time. Then he subsided. Zura worked quietly, too. Gintoki could hear his controlled breathing. The tiny sounds inside the room and the noises from the city all seemed larger than normal in the hot steam.
A smell-memory swept through Gintoki’s mind; the exact way the salt of the sea wind had been mingled with blood and exhaustion and a tinge of ammonia in the air, when they’d escaped from the airship by parachute, tightly clinging. It was less than two weeks ago but now it was already starting to feel distant. How far away would it feel when Zura’s hair had grown out again? Would things somehow feel less irrevocable by then?
“No they won’t,” he muttered to himself. Zura must have heard him, but didn’t answer.
Zura finally turned on the showerhead to rinse off the shampoo, which always took its fair time with Gintoki’s hair. If Zura’s own hair had been long like normal, Gin thought he could have surprised him by the end of the rinsing process, by yanking on Zura’s hair to pull him down and into an angry kiss. Maybe that would have made things a little less mournful. But now it was too short and he’d have to reach too much.
Minutes later, though, Zura helped him out of the bath, and Gintoki fell for the impulse and kissed him on the cheek anyway. Sloppily, almost like his mouth had meant to do something else. Zura flushed brightly, opened his mouth as if to say, “Don’t be silly”, but then closed it again and looked away, biting his lip.
He muttered something inaudible as he helped Gintoki into a bathrobe and they padded out into the living room together. Everything changed every day and then returned again, the waves washing over the sand and retreating; but some changes were irrevocable, like a cliff split in two by an earthquake for the sea to rush in and divide them further. But they were still here.
And for all his insistence on looking after Gintoki, it was Katsura who fell asleep on his shoulder not too long after that, watching TV together on the couch. Gintoki snorted and took over the remote control. Image changes would come and go.
Inspired by the prompt set "protect | image-change | reunion", where "image change" was the prompt I seized on the most, which I combined with an older prompt from over a month ago from elsewhere, namely "bath".
Many thanks to Sparda and
tonko for giving this shortfic a look-over and pointing out how to improve it! ♥♥♥As always, feedback is very much welcome, including nitpicks and constructive criticism!
Fandom: Gintama
Characters/Pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Title: Can’t Wash You Out Of My Hair (You Doofus)
Word count: 778 as I post this
Spoilers/Setting: Set almost two weeks or so after the Benizakura arc. Probably no later - Gintoki heals fast!
Summary: Katsura is washing Gintoki’s hair. That’s pretty much it.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: The Gintama characters are owned by their creator Hideaki Sorachi. They are used here without permission for entertainment only. Not to be reposted elsewhere without the writer’s approval.
“I heard you were recuperating in Shinpachi-kun’s home.” Katsura’s voice was low but clear in the hot, steamy bathroom. His fingers were diligently working in shampoo into Gintoki’s unruly natural perm.
He’d stripped down to just his white underkimono, but Gintoki couldn’t see it anymore; he’d just closed his eyes to avoid getting shampoo in them. He grunted. “Some recuperation. All the crazies just came around there instead, I got mangled and trampled from them and the booby traps. Ended up having to rest from the resting.”
“I’m glad your wounds are healed up enough that you can take a bath now.” That wasn’t said as a question. Katsura had made sure.
“Mhm.”
Shinpachi had apparently run into Zura in the grocery shop earlier and not been able to keep his mouth shut that Gintoki wasn’t up on his feet yet and Kagura hadn’t been sleeping well lately, since she kept waking up to go check on Gintoki, even though Gintoki kept telling her he was long out of any danger. Zura had then turned up at the door at Odd Jobs two hours ago with a very stubborn expression that said you’d need either hours of patience or the strength of a Yato to keep him out, and Kagura hadn’t bothered to boot him out. Instead she’d shoved him in Gintoki’s direction telling telling him to take care of Gin-chan, it was the last he could do, then made her way downstairs probably to gorge herself on all the snacks in the bar.
Kagura actually seemed more mellow towards Zura right now than she’d ever been. It would probably disappear once his hair grew long again, thought Gintoki, sinking deeper into the hot, soothing bathwater.
“Will you hold still?” said Zura, tone annoyed. He pulled at Gintoki’s hair.
“Ow, ow, ow, stop it!” Gintoki splashed him and reflexively tried to yank Katsura by the hair in return, only for his hands to meet air. He would have reached up further for the sake of it, but the angle was all wrong and his hair was still full of shampoo. “Just get on with it if you have to, I didn’t ask you to do anything!”
“I can see the way you grimace when you move your arms too much right now,” Zura pointed out. “You’re well enough to climb into a bath and sit still there, nothing more.”
Gintoki grunted again, more grumpily this time. Then he subsided. Zura worked quietly, too. Gintoki could hear his controlled breathing. The tiny sounds inside the room and the noises from the city all seemed larger than normal in the hot steam.
A smell-memory swept through Gintoki’s mind; the exact way the salt of the sea wind had been mingled with blood and exhaustion and a tinge of ammonia in the air, when they’d escaped from the airship by parachute, tightly clinging. It was less than two weeks ago but now it was already starting to feel distant. How far away would it feel when Zura’s hair had grown out again? Would things somehow feel less irrevocable by then?
“No they won’t,” he muttered to himself. Zura must have heard him, but didn’t answer.
Zura finally turned on the showerhead to rinse off the shampoo, which always took its fair time with Gintoki’s hair. If Zura’s own hair had been long like normal, Gin thought he could have surprised him by the end of the rinsing process, by yanking on Zura’s hair to pull him down and into an angry kiss. Maybe that would have made things a little less mournful. But now it was too short and he’d have to reach too much.
Minutes later, though, Zura helped him out of the bath, and Gintoki fell for the impulse and kissed him on the cheek anyway. Sloppily, almost like his mouth had meant to do something else. Zura flushed brightly, opened his mouth as if to say, “Don’t be silly”, but then closed it again and looked away, biting his lip.
He muttered something inaudible as he helped Gintoki into a bathrobe and they padded out into the living room together. Everything changed every day and then returned again, the waves washing over the sand and retreating; but some changes were irrevocable, like a cliff split in two by an earthquake for the sea to rush in and divide them further. But they were still here.
And for all his insistence on looking after Gintoki, it was Katsura who fell asleep on his shoulder not too long after that, watching TV together on the couch. Gintoki snorted and took over the remote control. Image changes would come and go.