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rainsometimesNew Ginzura shortfic! This one is also prompted by the still-ongoing Ginzura Fest on Twitter.
Prompt: touch (and the prompt "song" played a certain part, too)
Title: The Moon On The Water, The Sugar In Your Breath
Characters/pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Word count: around 825
Spoilers/setting: no spoilers, standard canon time
Rated: G, though with some vomiting included
The characters belong to Hideaki Sorachi. They are used here without official permission for non-profit purpose. Don't repost elsewhere.
"I know this grip," muttered Gintoki, eyes heavy, voice sounding sluggish. Katsura had thought he would reek of alcohol, but there was only a moderate boozy smell from him. Nevertheless, he secured his grip over Gintoki's shoulder, put Gintoki's arm over his own shoulder and dragged him onwards, away from the bar where he'd run into him.
"I'd know it even if I wasn't seeing your dumb face an' even if I couldn't smell you," Gintoki added.
"That's silly," said Katsura. "Why are you so out of it? Did you overdo it on the pachinko?"
"Dunno. I'm fine, jus' a little sleepy." Gintoki picked his nose and leaned a fraction harder on Katsura. There was a hint of rings under his eyes; if he was sleep-deprived, perhaps that accounted for him acting so drunk while not smelling like it. "I'm tellin' you, I'd know it," Gin went on. "Your hands are like. Slim but muscular and bossy and annoying. Anyone could tell this is someone thinking he knows everything better than everyone else an' he can take care of everybody. Someone trying to make out like he's a refined goody two-shoes but he's really just a roughneck in disguise. Stop pinching me, you jerk!"
"I wasn't!" protested Katsura, maybe not entirely truthfully. "You should be happy I'm the one who found you this time and not Otose-san or Otae-dono or Leader." He paused, thinking for a moment. "The women in your life all have harder grips than I have."
Gintoki groaned. "Don't I know it."
They walked in silence for a while, Katsura trying to steer away from a gang of rowdy passersby which led to Gintoki's head colliding with a lamppost. Maybe Katsura wasn't entirely unaffected by alcohol himself.
"You really need to take better care of yourself, Gintoki," he admonished. "We need you to do battle at our side for the New Japan that is to come. You're our champion fighter, you know. Ow!" Gintoki had just elbowed him into the stomach.
"Stop with that shtick, it's more annoying than a celebrity commercial."
"You... you shouldn't have done that, Gintoki... I will throw up." Sure enough, the contents of his stomach bubbled up and he threw up right there over the bridge. Gintoki slumped on the railing beside him, then patted his back in an absent-minded way.
Katsura straightened up, moved his feet so he wouldn't step into mosaic vomit, then wiped his mouth on Gintoki's sleeve and took in a deep breath of the cool night air. Gintoki's hand was still on his shoulder. "You're the same, you know," he mumbled. "Even if you didn't reek of sugar and bad foot hygiene, there's something so... insolent about that grip of yours. Insolent and unwashed. Anyone could tell this is someone who'll go out of his way to make trouble but then try to slide out of it." Someone stronger and more steadfast than anyone else; there's no touch that embodies trust as much as yours. He looked out over the canal, watching the full moon's image on the dark water.
Gintoki rolled his dead fish eyes. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
The moon in the water was flanked by the images of the old wooden houses on both sides of the canal right here. Far, far away the skyscrapers loomed in the downtown streetlights, and the enormous space terminal glittered. "Well, that's just you, Gintoki," Katsura heard himself say, not exactly sure what he meant by it. Then he took his hand and squeezed it once, smiling. "Let's go. It smells of fresh vomit here."
He wasn't entirely sure why his ears were reddening as he hauled his friend up again by the shoulder, and they set off once more. The echoes of old touches, old hesitancies and certainties, gentle warmth and fever-hot flames all lingered in his head like a half-forgotten song. He heard Gintoki humming some old tune (the nursery song from Nausicäa, he would realize an hour later, as he was taking off his sandals back at his own place) as they trudged down the last street; as Otose's Snack Bar came into view. "More annoying than anyone," he murmured under his breath.
"No, that's you, Zura."
"It's not Zura, it's Katsura." I love you. "Do try to get up before noon tomorrow, please remember you have a business to run and two youngsters who rely on you."
"Nag, nag, nag, who d'you think you are, my mother?" But there was a smile in his voice as he trudged up the steps to his apartment, by now looking steady enough on his feet that Katsura stayed back on the ground.
He thought he could feel eyes at his back as he turned to walk to his own current place, so maybe the other one had stopped for a moment to look back. But that could just have been in Katsura's imagination.
Prompt: touch (and the prompt "song" played a certain part, too)
Title: The Moon On The Water, The Sugar In Your Breath
Characters/pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Word count: around 825
Spoilers/setting: no spoilers, standard canon time
Rated: G, though with some vomiting included
The characters belong to Hideaki Sorachi. They are used here without official permission for non-profit purpose. Don't repost elsewhere.
"I know this grip," muttered Gintoki, eyes heavy, voice sounding sluggish. Katsura had thought he would reek of alcohol, but there was only a moderate boozy smell from him. Nevertheless, he secured his grip over Gintoki's shoulder, put Gintoki's arm over his own shoulder and dragged him onwards, away from the bar where he'd run into him.
"I'd know it even if I wasn't seeing your dumb face an' even if I couldn't smell you," Gintoki added.
"That's silly," said Katsura. "Why are you so out of it? Did you overdo it on the pachinko?"
"Dunno. I'm fine, jus' a little sleepy." Gintoki picked his nose and leaned a fraction harder on Katsura. There was a hint of rings under his eyes; if he was sleep-deprived, perhaps that accounted for him acting so drunk while not smelling like it. "I'm tellin' you, I'd know it," Gin went on. "Your hands are like. Slim but muscular and bossy and annoying. Anyone could tell this is someone thinking he knows everything better than everyone else an' he can take care of everybody. Someone trying to make out like he's a refined goody two-shoes but he's really just a roughneck in disguise. Stop pinching me, you jerk!"
"I wasn't!" protested Katsura, maybe not entirely truthfully. "You should be happy I'm the one who found you this time and not Otose-san or Otae-dono or Leader." He paused, thinking for a moment. "The women in your life all have harder grips than I have."
Gintoki groaned. "Don't I know it."
They walked in silence for a while, Katsura trying to steer away from a gang of rowdy passersby which led to Gintoki's head colliding with a lamppost. Maybe Katsura wasn't entirely unaffected by alcohol himself.
"You really need to take better care of yourself, Gintoki," he admonished. "We need you to do battle at our side for the New Japan that is to come. You're our champion fighter, you know. Ow!" Gintoki had just elbowed him into the stomach.
"Stop with that shtick, it's more annoying than a celebrity commercial."
"You... you shouldn't have done that, Gintoki... I will throw up." Sure enough, the contents of his stomach bubbled up and he threw up right there over the bridge. Gintoki slumped on the railing beside him, then patted his back in an absent-minded way.
Katsura straightened up, moved his feet so he wouldn't step into mosaic vomit, then wiped his mouth on Gintoki's sleeve and took in a deep breath of the cool night air. Gintoki's hand was still on his shoulder. "You're the same, you know," he mumbled. "Even if you didn't reek of sugar and bad foot hygiene, there's something so... insolent about that grip of yours. Insolent and unwashed. Anyone could tell this is someone who'll go out of his way to make trouble but then try to slide out of it." Someone stronger and more steadfast than anyone else; there's no touch that embodies trust as much as yours. He looked out over the canal, watching the full moon's image on the dark water.
Gintoki rolled his dead fish eyes. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
The moon in the water was flanked by the images of the old wooden houses on both sides of the canal right here. Far, far away the skyscrapers loomed in the downtown streetlights, and the enormous space terminal glittered. "Well, that's just you, Gintoki," Katsura heard himself say, not exactly sure what he meant by it. Then he took his hand and squeezed it once, smiling. "Let's go. It smells of fresh vomit here."
He wasn't entirely sure why his ears were reddening as he hauled his friend up again by the shoulder, and they set off once more. The echoes of old touches, old hesitancies and certainties, gentle warmth and fever-hot flames all lingered in his head like a half-forgotten song. He heard Gintoki humming some old tune (the nursery song from Nausicäa, he would realize an hour later, as he was taking off his sandals back at his own place) as they trudged down the last street; as Otose's Snack Bar came into view. "More annoying than anyone," he murmured under his breath.
"No, that's you, Zura."
"It's not Zura, it's Katsura." I love you. "Do try to get up before noon tomorrow, please remember you have a business to run and two youngsters who rely on you."
"Nag, nag, nag, who d'you think you are, my mother?" But there was a smile in his voice as he trudged up the steps to his apartment, by now looking steady enough on his feet that Katsura stayed back on the ground.
He thought he could feel eyes at his back as he turned to walk to his own current place, so maybe the other one had stopped for a moment to look back. But that could just have been in Katsura's imagination.