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rainsometimesAnother very unpolished shortfic for Ginzura week. The prompts for this day were "jealousy/loneliness", but the end result was less directly tied to the theme words than a double character exploration inspired by the prompts.
Shorter than the last one, this one wasn't as exhausting to write.
Both POVs are used. Secret relationship.
Title, tentatively: Perform German Suplex On Your Own Stupid Self-Denial
Word count: around 900 I think?
Spoilers/setting: Vague on spoilers but it's set anytime after Benizakura arc and before the Shogun Assassination arc.
Characters/Pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Disclaimer: the characters of Gintama are owned by Hideaki Sorachi and are used here without permission for entertainment purposes only.
(Gintoki)
Sometimes it seems that I like you too much. That I want you to stick around too much. That it’s not enough to poke into each other’s lives, all the same old bicker and grumble and swiping at and hanging out, the same old comfortable dance; the same old secret tumble into bed when opportunity and moods allow for it; the way we can always trust each other when things get really tough; the way we ache in so similar ways, how we mourn for the same things; the way we find comfort, now and again, in each other, even if I do sometimes avoid you when the memories get too sharp. I imagine you do the same.
But sometimes, sometimes it feels like it just isn’t enough, I want you here, like a yearning that gets too hot and too bright and too much, a desire to hold and to keep and to make mine, something nobody else can touch, something nobody else had better ever dare try to take away from me. I‘ll feel like I’ve been turned into, I dunno, some kind of monster boy sad shojo love interest who needs to be saved and purified by the heroine. Someone hungry, with claws. It’s dumb.
You’re too important to be treated like that. You’re important to me, to your friends, to the followers. To this sad old country. And you were too important to Shôyô. I can hold you but I can’t – I can’t put my claws in you, I can’t let that need to devour come out. You’re strong, I know, it might not harm you at all, it might not burn you. Still wouldn’t be right. I’ve let too much come to ashes already. You know how that feels, right?
So when that happens, I know I need to do the opposite. Loosening my grip, letting go entirely, instead of tightening it. Say something flippant and walk away, wait for that tense bright inner flame to settle down. If I could like you the right way it wouldn’t be a problem, but when it’s like this, it’s both too much and not enough, and you deserve better.
(Katsura)
Sometimes it seems that I like you too much. And maybe that wouldn’t be a problem except so many other people treasure you, too. Leader and Shinpachi-kun and Sadaharu, Otose-san and Otae-san and Gengai-dono, Sachan-san and Kyubei-dono and Hasegawa-san, that beautiful warrior lady from Yoshiwara; even the leading thugs of the government police dogs have warmed up to you. It’s a real miracle how affection for Gin from Odd Jobs Ginchan has become shared by so many.
Those people see you with true eyes, the real silver underneath that loutish outer patina of yours. Like me, they need that strength you provide. And you get strength from them as well, that much is obvious. Those two youngsters especially do so much for you. Your eyes still look empty sometimes and I know you still go on benders and throw your money away on pachinko and there’s so much you might never get back (so much that we robbed from you), but you’re growing so much stronger and less broken, if not by the day or even by the arc then at least by the season. You, who’ve gone through enough that you should gladly want to burn the country down, still just want to get through the day and help other people. I’m always stunned by it. Shamed, even.
And then when I feel that way, my heart swells with pride for you, and something more than that, warmth and light and a sense that I want to give something away, give something back, it’s too much, too precious–
What I want to do right then, it’s the opposite of claiming you (I’m not saying there aren’t other moments when I feel like claiming you); I want to gather up all that swell of warmth in my chest, even if it hurts, and give it over, let those other people dear to you take my part, small as it may be; let you be safe and protected and happy. Let it be enough. Even if I will regret it later, I feel that urge to step back and melt into the surroundings, to see you taken care of, to know I’ve done well.
I want to be good. To let them have you. Even he could have you, if he reformed enough.
Don’t misunderstand. I don’t feel like this the whole time. When your hands and lips are on mine, when we’re seeking pleasure and a moment’s oblivion together, then I have no intention of giving you up. It’s something that comes and goes. I admit it’s probably misguided.
But I wouldn’t feel that way, I wouldn’t be so full of this tender pride that makes my heart hurt with it, if I didn’t like you so much in the first place.
Shorter than the last one, this one wasn't as exhausting to write.
Both POVs are used. Secret relationship.
Title, tentatively: Perform German Suplex On Your Own Stupid Self-Denial
Word count: around 900 I think?
Spoilers/setting: Vague on spoilers but it's set anytime after Benizakura arc and before the Shogun Assassination arc.
Characters/Pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Disclaimer: the characters of Gintama are owned by Hideaki Sorachi and are used here without permission for entertainment purposes only.
(Gintoki)
Sometimes it seems that I like you too much. That I want you to stick around too much. That it’s not enough to poke into each other’s lives, all the same old bicker and grumble and swiping at and hanging out, the same old comfortable dance; the same old secret tumble into bed when opportunity and moods allow for it; the way we can always trust each other when things get really tough; the way we ache in so similar ways, how we mourn for the same things; the way we find comfort, now and again, in each other, even if I do sometimes avoid you when the memories get too sharp. I imagine you do the same.
But sometimes, sometimes it feels like it just isn’t enough, I want you here, like a yearning that gets too hot and too bright and too much, a desire to hold and to keep and to make mine, something nobody else can touch, something nobody else had better ever dare try to take away from me. I‘ll feel like I’ve been turned into, I dunno, some kind of monster boy sad shojo love interest who needs to be saved and purified by the heroine. Someone hungry, with claws. It’s dumb.
You’re too important to be treated like that. You’re important to me, to your friends, to the followers. To this sad old country. And you were too important to Shôyô. I can hold you but I can’t – I can’t put my claws in you, I can’t let that need to devour come out. You’re strong, I know, it might not harm you at all, it might not burn you. Still wouldn’t be right. I’ve let too much come to ashes already. You know how that feels, right?
So when that happens, I know I need to do the opposite. Loosening my grip, letting go entirely, instead of tightening it. Say something flippant and walk away, wait for that tense bright inner flame to settle down. If I could like you the right way it wouldn’t be a problem, but when it’s like this, it’s both too much and not enough, and you deserve better.
(Katsura)
Sometimes it seems that I like you too much. And maybe that wouldn’t be a problem except so many other people treasure you, too. Leader and Shinpachi-kun and Sadaharu, Otose-san and Otae-san and Gengai-dono, Sachan-san and Kyubei-dono and Hasegawa-san, that beautiful warrior lady from Yoshiwara; even the leading thugs of the government police dogs have warmed up to you. It’s a real miracle how affection for Gin from Odd Jobs Ginchan has become shared by so many.
Those people see you with true eyes, the real silver underneath that loutish outer patina of yours. Like me, they need that strength you provide. And you get strength from them as well, that much is obvious. Those two youngsters especially do so much for you. Your eyes still look empty sometimes and I know you still go on benders and throw your money away on pachinko and there’s so much you might never get back (so much that we robbed from you), but you’re growing so much stronger and less broken, if not by the day or even by the arc then at least by the season. You, who’ve gone through enough that you should gladly want to burn the country down, still just want to get through the day and help other people. I’m always stunned by it. Shamed, even.
And then when I feel that way, my heart swells with pride for you, and something more than that, warmth and light and a sense that I want to give something away, give something back, it’s too much, too precious–
What I want to do right then, it’s the opposite of claiming you (I’m not saying there aren’t other moments when I feel like claiming you); I want to gather up all that swell of warmth in my chest, even if it hurts, and give it over, let those other people dear to you take my part, small as it may be; let you be safe and protected and happy. Let it be enough. Even if I will regret it later, I feel that urge to step back and melt into the surroundings, to see you taken care of, to know I’ve done well.
I want to be good. To let them have you. Even he could have you, if he reformed enough.
Don’t misunderstand. I don’t feel like this the whole time. When your hands and lips are on mine, when we’re seeking pleasure and a moment’s oblivion together, then I have no intention of giving you up. It’s something that comes and goes. I admit it’s probably misguided.
But I wouldn’t feel that way, I wouldn’t be so full of this tender pride that makes my heart hurt with it, if I didn’t like you so much in the first place.