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rainsometimesIt's nearly June 26th here, it's already been that for many hours in Japan, so it's time to celebrate Katsura's birthday with a new Ginzura shortfic! The first of two, I plan to post the second in the morning. I will also post to AO3 collecting the four Ginzura shortfics I haven't posted there yet, only here or (for some of them) on Tumblr. Possibly I will include a couple of short-short tweetfics too, not sure yet.
I wanted to use the prompt "back alley" which is popular on the Japanese side of Ginzura Twitter, and I guess this is the result. Didn't turn up as hot as I'd hoped, but my fics seldom do. I hope it will still be of some enjoyment to somebody.
As always, constructive criticism is very welcome, nitpicks included, and so is feedback in general.
Title: Some Things Can Only Be Found By Stumbling In The Dark
Characters/Pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Word Count: around 1430 as I post this
Rating: I would say G, maybe a very mild PG
Spoilers/setting: set in "standard Gintama time", no real spoilers
Summary: Katsura finds Gintoki in an alley
Disclaimer: The characters of Gintama are owned by Hideaki Sorachi, the wonderful gorilla creator who makes us laugh and cry a lot. They are used here without permission for entertainment purposes only. They are not to be used for profit in any way and are not to be reposted elsewhere without the writer's approval.
Gintoki groaned. Someone was grabbing him and rubbing something wet against his face. “Go’ way,” he slurred, trying to push the other person away from where he was sitting, slumped against a wall. It was dark outside and smelled of vomit. The ground was hard, but it would hold him up.
“Stop that, idiot.” That was Zura’s voice. Gintoki groaned louder, peering at the other sullenly as he came more into focus. He was in his monk get-up and was crouching down; now he straightened up and studied Gintoki with a disapproving look and a sigh. In the narrow patch of sky above them, the moon took this moment to come out of the clouds to shine down right on him, his hair shining with an almost eerie gleam. Gintoki turned his head to look around, not even recognizing the alley he must have stumbled into.
“Sit still,” ordered Zura, once again dabbing a napkin at Gintoki’s face. “There’s a cut on your cheek, I’m cleaning it for you. Don’t let yourself get infected in a place like this.”
“Where the fuck did you come from, Zura?” Gintoki said, but didn’t bother to stir. His whole body felt mangled and heavy, only half by alcohol. There had been a lot of people in that one gang of hoodlums over on that bridge. Gintoki had been very drunk and would not have picked a fight if he could avoid it, but…
“Shh. Just happened to be passing,” said Zura curtly. “Good luck on your part. Bad on mine, obviously.”
“I’d be all right,” said Gintoki after a moment. “I always heal in the end.”
Zura hmphed. “Even if that might be so,” he muttered, “you could still end up bedridden from an infection for four days instead of just one day from a hangover. And you will cause worry for Leader and Shinpachi-kun and Sadaharu-dono. Now, let’s see your arms.”
“D’ you have insomnia or somethin’? Why’re you out at this hour… You’re lecturin’ me, lecture yourself instead. Jerk.” But he did allow Zura to inspect his arms and to clean and bandage the small cut on his left arm that he’d all but forgotten about. Maybe that was more of a scrape, really. It wasn’t bleeding by much, at least.
“I’m not lecturing you, I’m advising you, idiot.” Zura sounded so annoyingly crisp. A few silent moments, then he added, quietly, “You were protecting someone, weren’t you? If it had just been you, you wouldn’t have let yourself get cut.”
“Tch. Dunno ‘bout that. I was pretty drunk and there were a lot of them.”
“You’re still pretty drunk.” Another pause. “I’m not wrong, though.”
Gintoki just shrugged, then grabbed hold of Zura’s shoulder to help get to his feet. There’d been two middle-aged ladies scared shitless on that bridge, backed up against the railing as the street gang had been surrounding them. Gintoki suspected they’d been chiefly intent of robbing the women but they clearly really enjoyed frightening the hell out of them at the very least, and it was so dumb and clichéd it had annoyed him. He’d only meant to kick a few of them into the river hopefully making the rest scatter, but they must have noticed how drunk he was and thought they could take him.
Zura didn’t look openly worried, but he did look stubborn. “Make sure you check yourself once you get home just in case there’s another cut you’ve forgotten about.”
“And here I thought you’d insist on stripping me down right here just to check,” Gintoki managed to say without slurring too much. He dropped his grip on Zura’s shoulders, leaning one hand against the wall instead.
A pink hue passed over Zura’s cheeks quickly, but for a moment he said nothing. He looked so damn young underneath that wide-brimmed hat, why did he have to look like that? All pretty and pristine and gleaming and sharp and so ridiculously clueless, it was—
“You look as if you’re expecting something else to happen,” said Zura, sounding neutral now.
“Zura.” Gintoki’s voice was heavy to his own ears.
Zura pursed his lips. “You’re smelling of vomit. Even though I cleaned your face.”
“You’re so dumb. You’re so… so…” He trailed off, his head feeling hot and fuzzy, and Zura was drawing in breath getting ready to say something when Gintoki talked again, breaking him off, “…So obvious. What’re you even doing here? Idiot.” This isn’t a place for you. I know you hang around in alleys all the time, but you belong somewhere that’s cool, calm, quiet, and pretty. Some place that smells of flowers.
“Why do you want to know?” Zura was terse now. He’d put his bandage roll back inside his sleeve. “Just allow people to help you for once, for heaven’s sake. Come on, get going.” He pulled at Gintoki’s elbow, and Gintoki muttered inarticulately but allowed himself to get gently hustled along. He figured he’d probably fall over if he tried to kick Zura right now.
They made their way slowly through the alley. Gintoki had no real idea of what direction they should be walking in, not remembering how he had come in here, so he just had to hope his friend knew the way. Beyond the alley lay a short street that was only a little bit wider and cleaner than the alley, and only half its streetlamps were intact.
“I wasn’t trying to be surreptitious, you know,” Zura finally said in a low voice, so low Gintoki almost didn’t hear him. “Or to be obvious for that matter. People can just want you to be safe and happy, you know. Gintoki. That’s allowed.”
Gintoki’s heart was beating faster. He was staring down at the ground, focusing on not tripping and stumbling, not answering because he couldn’t give a good response to that.
Zura’s arm was over his shoulder now, supporting him. The cold night wind was scraping dirty city smoke into their faces.
He’d felt like this before, more than once. Getting an urge to grab Zura close even if it meant he was pulling him down with him, into the debris and rubbish. Making him dirty and muddy and compromised just like Gintoki was, but also keeping him warm and real and alive and there… Even dirt and the smell of vomit was still better than blood and bomb shrapnel, after all.
If you could choose. If you had to choose.
But it doesn’t need to be like this, he thought now. You don’t have to wait until I need help in some dirty alley till you can get close. I want you anyway. I just do.
He was just that little bit too drunk still, though, and Zura was just that little bit too concerned, Gintoki could tell, so they made it to Gintoki’s street and nothing had happened. Zura had stopped a few times to wipe Gintoki’s face again with tissues, had petted his hair even, unsmilingly. Gintoki had found himself stroking Zura’s cheek when that happened, then a few strands of his hair, not quite thinking about anything.
Finally, they stopped underneath the staircase to his house, the one where Sadaharu had once been found abandoned in a box. It was still the small hours of the night, the Snack Bar had closed down hours ago and there was nobody in sight. Zura’s mouth tasted of salt and old mornings. They kissed for several minutes, in the darkness underneath the stairs.
Zura’s hands slipped inside Gintoki’s kimono after they broke off the kiss, but only for a few seconds. Then he mumbled something fuzzy and possibly sappy that Gintoki didn’t quite catch, before putting on his broad-brimmed hat again and walking off. Apparently his motherliness didn’t extend to helping Gintoki up the stairs; that, or he had dimly perceived that Gintoki really would have kicked him if he’d pushed his shtick that far. Silly bastard.
“Maybe he was in gaming mode, before,” muttered Gintoki to himself, slowly making his way up the stairs one at a time. “You have to check each and every dungeon for treasure.” You couldn’t exactly level up just by gaining a drunk Gin-san, but Zura, as always, had his own wide set of delusions.
Gintoki could still feel the heat of his breath on his face, still see the shimmer of his hair in the moonlight as he unlocked the door and whispered, “I’m home.”
I wanted to use the prompt "back alley" which is popular on the Japanese side of Ginzura Twitter, and I guess this is the result. Didn't turn up as hot as I'd hoped, but my fics seldom do. I hope it will still be of some enjoyment to somebody.
As always, constructive criticism is very welcome, nitpicks included, and so is feedback in general.
Title: Some Things Can Only Be Found By Stumbling In The Dark
Characters/Pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Word Count: around 1430 as I post this
Rating: I would say G, maybe a very mild PG
Spoilers/setting: set in "standard Gintama time", no real spoilers
Summary: Katsura finds Gintoki in an alley
Disclaimer: The characters of Gintama are owned by Hideaki Sorachi, the wonderful gorilla creator who makes us laugh and cry a lot. They are used here without permission for entertainment purposes only. They are not to be used for profit in any way and are not to be reposted elsewhere without the writer's approval.
Gintoki groaned. Someone was grabbing him and rubbing something wet against his face. “Go’ way,” he slurred, trying to push the other person away from where he was sitting, slumped against a wall. It was dark outside and smelled of vomit. The ground was hard, but it would hold him up.
“Stop that, idiot.” That was Zura’s voice. Gintoki groaned louder, peering at the other sullenly as he came more into focus. He was in his monk get-up and was crouching down; now he straightened up and studied Gintoki with a disapproving look and a sigh. In the narrow patch of sky above them, the moon took this moment to come out of the clouds to shine down right on him, his hair shining with an almost eerie gleam. Gintoki turned his head to look around, not even recognizing the alley he must have stumbled into.
“Sit still,” ordered Zura, once again dabbing a napkin at Gintoki’s face. “There’s a cut on your cheek, I’m cleaning it for you. Don’t let yourself get infected in a place like this.”
“Where the fuck did you come from, Zura?” Gintoki said, but didn’t bother to stir. His whole body felt mangled and heavy, only half by alcohol. There had been a lot of people in that one gang of hoodlums over on that bridge. Gintoki had been very drunk and would not have picked a fight if he could avoid it, but…
“Shh. Just happened to be passing,” said Zura curtly. “Good luck on your part. Bad on mine, obviously.”
“I’d be all right,” said Gintoki after a moment. “I always heal in the end.”
Zura hmphed. “Even if that might be so,” he muttered, “you could still end up bedridden from an infection for four days instead of just one day from a hangover. And you will cause worry for Leader and Shinpachi-kun and Sadaharu-dono. Now, let’s see your arms.”
“D’ you have insomnia or somethin’? Why’re you out at this hour… You’re lecturin’ me, lecture yourself instead. Jerk.” But he did allow Zura to inspect his arms and to clean and bandage the small cut on his left arm that he’d all but forgotten about. Maybe that was more of a scrape, really. It wasn’t bleeding by much, at least.
“I’m not lecturing you, I’m advising you, idiot.” Zura sounded so annoyingly crisp. A few silent moments, then he added, quietly, “You were protecting someone, weren’t you? If it had just been you, you wouldn’t have let yourself get cut.”
“Tch. Dunno ‘bout that. I was pretty drunk and there were a lot of them.”
“You’re still pretty drunk.” Another pause. “I’m not wrong, though.”
Gintoki just shrugged, then grabbed hold of Zura’s shoulder to help get to his feet. There’d been two middle-aged ladies scared shitless on that bridge, backed up against the railing as the street gang had been surrounding them. Gintoki suspected they’d been chiefly intent of robbing the women but they clearly really enjoyed frightening the hell out of them at the very least, and it was so dumb and clichéd it had annoyed him. He’d only meant to kick a few of them into the river hopefully making the rest scatter, but they must have noticed how drunk he was and thought they could take him.
Zura didn’t look openly worried, but he did look stubborn. “Make sure you check yourself once you get home just in case there’s another cut you’ve forgotten about.”
“And here I thought you’d insist on stripping me down right here just to check,” Gintoki managed to say without slurring too much. He dropped his grip on Zura’s shoulders, leaning one hand against the wall instead.
A pink hue passed over Zura’s cheeks quickly, but for a moment he said nothing. He looked so damn young underneath that wide-brimmed hat, why did he have to look like that? All pretty and pristine and gleaming and sharp and so ridiculously clueless, it was—
“You look as if you’re expecting something else to happen,” said Zura, sounding neutral now.
“Zura.” Gintoki’s voice was heavy to his own ears.
Zura pursed his lips. “You’re smelling of vomit. Even though I cleaned your face.”
“You’re so dumb. You’re so… so…” He trailed off, his head feeling hot and fuzzy, and Zura was drawing in breath getting ready to say something when Gintoki talked again, breaking him off, “…So obvious. What’re you even doing here? Idiot.” This isn’t a place for you. I know you hang around in alleys all the time, but you belong somewhere that’s cool, calm, quiet, and pretty. Some place that smells of flowers.
“Why do you want to know?” Zura was terse now. He’d put his bandage roll back inside his sleeve. “Just allow people to help you for once, for heaven’s sake. Come on, get going.” He pulled at Gintoki’s elbow, and Gintoki muttered inarticulately but allowed himself to get gently hustled along. He figured he’d probably fall over if he tried to kick Zura right now.
They made their way slowly through the alley. Gintoki had no real idea of what direction they should be walking in, not remembering how he had come in here, so he just had to hope his friend knew the way. Beyond the alley lay a short street that was only a little bit wider and cleaner than the alley, and only half its streetlamps were intact.
“I wasn’t trying to be surreptitious, you know,” Zura finally said in a low voice, so low Gintoki almost didn’t hear him. “Or to be obvious for that matter. People can just want you to be safe and happy, you know. Gintoki. That’s allowed.”
Gintoki’s heart was beating faster. He was staring down at the ground, focusing on not tripping and stumbling, not answering because he couldn’t give a good response to that.
Zura’s arm was over his shoulder now, supporting him. The cold night wind was scraping dirty city smoke into their faces.
He’d felt like this before, more than once. Getting an urge to grab Zura close even if it meant he was pulling him down with him, into the debris and rubbish. Making him dirty and muddy and compromised just like Gintoki was, but also keeping him warm and real and alive and there… Even dirt and the smell of vomit was still better than blood and bomb shrapnel, after all.
If you could choose. If you had to choose.
But it doesn’t need to be like this, he thought now. You don’t have to wait until I need help in some dirty alley till you can get close. I want you anyway. I just do.
He was just that little bit too drunk still, though, and Zura was just that little bit too concerned, Gintoki could tell, so they made it to Gintoki’s street and nothing had happened. Zura had stopped a few times to wipe Gintoki’s face again with tissues, had petted his hair even, unsmilingly. Gintoki had found himself stroking Zura’s cheek when that happened, then a few strands of his hair, not quite thinking about anything.
Finally, they stopped underneath the staircase to his house, the one where Sadaharu had once been found abandoned in a box. It was still the small hours of the night, the Snack Bar had closed down hours ago and there was nobody in sight. Zura’s mouth tasted of salt and old mornings. They kissed for several minutes, in the darkness underneath the stairs.
Zura’s hands slipped inside Gintoki’s kimono after they broke off the kiss, but only for a few seconds. Then he mumbled something fuzzy and possibly sappy that Gintoki didn’t quite catch, before putting on his broad-brimmed hat again and walking off. Apparently his motherliness didn’t extend to helping Gintoki up the stairs; that, or he had dimly perceived that Gintoki really would have kicked him if he’d pushed his shtick that far. Silly bastard.
“Maybe he was in gaming mode, before,” muttered Gintoki to himself, slowly making his way up the stairs one at a time. “You have to check each and every dungeon for treasure.” You couldn’t exactly level up just by gaining a drunk Gin-san, but Zura, as always, had his own wide set of delusions.
Gintoki could still feel the heat of his breath on his face, still see the shimmer of his hair in the moonlight as he unlocked the door and whispered, “I’m home.”