Work Text:
“So… Who’s the shogun for this round?” Shinpachi asks, reaching up to adjust his glasses nervously.
“I am,” Kagura announces, slamming her apple juice down on the table with a resounding clang. Her face twists into an impish grin as she eyes Otae and Kyuubei. She crows gleefully, “one and four have to kiss!”
To everyone's surprise, Kagura's provocations elicit no noticeable response from the two seated on the far right, and it is Gintoki who stiffens and mutters, “shit.” He holds up his popsicle stick and waves it angrily in front of Kagura’s face. “What was that for, huh? You little brat, if you’re going to sail your ships, at least check beforehand to ensure your information’s accurate!”
(Otae’s lips curve into a practiced, polite smile, and Kyuubei heaves a small sigh of relief.)
“Gintoki -hic- 'yer number four?” Katsura, who has been suspiciously silent all this time, pipes up to his left.
The silver-haired man takes one look at the red-faced man and promptly buries his face in his hands. “Can we not?” his voice echoes out pitifully from between his fingers.
“Come on, Gin-san! If you drag this out, the readers are going to get bored and leave. Just kiss Katsura-san on the cheek or something, and we’ll move on.” Shinpachi sighs in dismay.
“Yeah! You’ve done worse things with me before anyway, haven’t ‘cha?” Hasegawa adds helpfully.
Gintoki narrows his eyes at Katsura, who gives him a tipsy smile. Before he can make the first move, however, Katsura grabs Gintoki’s wrist and pulls. He plants a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss (Gintoki swears he hears their teeth clack together) on the stunned, taller man’s lips and then breaks away just as quickly.
What the fuck? Gintoki freezes and jerks away from him, scrambling further and further away until he is backed up against the far wall. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Katsura chirps brightly. He is (to Gintoki's horror) swaying slightly from side to side.
The room resembles a scene from some old, cliche horror movie, its various occupants frozen in various stages of utter shock.
"G-gin-chan..." Kagura is the first to break the heavy silence. Her mouth is open in a perfect little 'o' and all the color has drained from her face, leaving it white as a sheet.
"I told you we shouldn't have played the shogun game! We had Monolopy! And Cards Against Humanity! Either of those would've been better," Shinpachi groans, throwing his hands up exasperatedly.
"ZURA—" the low note of agitation in Gintoki's voice is overshadowed by the way his words are coming out in flustered, embarrassed squeaks. His knuckles are white and his cheeks are dusted with cherry red while the criminal offender beams like a ray of fucking sunshine, looking all too pleased with himself.
Someone starts, "I didn't know Zur-"
"A-anyway!" Gintoki interrupts with a loud laugh. "This guy's obviously hammered." He yanks Katsura to his feet and throws his arm over his shoulder, before hurriedly stepping into the hallway.
“Where are you -hic- taking me?” Katsura mumbles.
“What the fuck did you just do?” Gintoki covers the short distance from the living room to his room in a few quick strides.
“I‘unno.” He pauses. "They told us 'ta kiss, right? So that's what I did!" He says indignantly as Gintoki reaches for the latch.
"God damnit, Zura," Gintoki says under his breath, "help me a little bit here! Move!" He fumbles with the latch in a desperate attempt to get the door open, but only succeeds in moving it by a tiny fraction of an inch. A few rough shoves (and a protesting squeak from the drunkard slumped over his shoulder) later, the gap is finally wide enough for the two of them to squeeze through.
"Ugh, ow," Katsura's voice comes out as a low whine, "are we there yet?"
"Yes, yes." The silver-haired samurai gives the door one more kick, before proceeding into the dark, murky depths of his room. "Geez, you're heavier than you look. Just how much did you drink?"
"Enough," Katsura responds cheerfully as his head lolls over the slope of Gintoki's shoulder.
"How are you going to take over Edo if you can't even hold your liquor?" He clucks his tongue disapprovingly.
"A terrorist doesn’t needlessly engage in silly acts of tomfoolery, unlike a certain someone,” Katsura slurs, and the aforementioned someone winces. “But that’s okay! You’re forgiven, 'cos today’s my birthday!”
"It might be your birthday, but remember, Gin-san is old too," Gintoki complains as he squats down by the futon and slowly eases the drunk terrorist off his shoulder, "why'd you drink so much, anyway?"
"I was happy you got me a present." Despite Gintoki's best efforts, he still collapses unceremoniously onto the futon.
"Huh? I get you the same shitty thing every year."
"Yeah, but still..." Katsura trails off as the wailing sounds of Kyuubei and Kagura's Adele duet drift into the room.
Gintoki raises his eyebrows and settles himself, cross-legged, beside Katsura, who is sprawled haphazardly on the futon with his face pressed up against a pillow. For a while, the long-haired man simply lies there, his chest rising and falling with every slow breath, so Gintoki cards his fingers absentmindedly through his silky hair, closes his eyes, and listens. Kyuubei and Kagura's singing now sounds more like chickens being strangled while Hasegawa is pounding out a rhythm on what sounds suspiciously like a cardboard box (Gintoki can only wonder where he got it from). Shinpachi is yelling something about Elizabeth passing out from ingesting some toxic, mysterious substance, and Otae sounds bewildered as she wonders aloud, over all the mad ruckus, why Elizabeth isn’t moving when she’s only given him her best fried eggs. They're loud as hell, and he's probably going to get killed by Otose later for letting them run amok and depriving the other residents of their sleep, but he thinks with a wry grin, this isn't half bad. During the war, birthdays generally went by unnoticed or forgotten, and the few that were remembered were oft celebrated with no more than a weary chorus of "happy birthday"s and a bottle of cheap liquor, if they were lucky enough to get their hands on something of the sort. Even Katsura, who is usually calm and composed, has caved and let himself go tonight (albeit perhaps a little too much), and for that Gintoki is (somewhat) glad.
Katsura suddenly turns on the futon to face Gintoki, the rustling of sheets interrupting the silver-haired man's train of thought. Katsura's cheeks are still flushed rosy pink, and the small smile dancing on his lips makes Gintoki's heart skip a beat (ah, they're turning into a different anime again, Gintoki muses detachedly). He blinks once, twice, soft deer-brown eyes flashing in the darkness, then whispers with almost child-like anticipation, "hey, Gintoki, can I use it now?" The look in Katsura’s eyes is bright and carefree and full of everything Gintoki rarely sees, something laid-back and unguarded, a castle with its gates left unlocked overnight. For once, Gintoki can’t find it in himself to throw back one of his usual snarky retorts. He swallows, and Katsura continues, "Say 'happy birthday'."
Gintoki hums in response. "You're a weird guy," he flicks Katsura's forehead reproachfully, but there is a glow to his regular, passively indifferent expression, a tenderness to his gaze that is rarely (if ever) seen. "Sure."
He leans forward and presses his lips to the long-haired man's ear. "Happy birthday, Katsura."
Gintoki can just about make out the upward curve of Katsura's lips as he murmurs, "can I get a kiss good-night, too?"
The taller man simply laughs and replies dryly, "I'm pretty sure I didn't write down anything 'bout a kiss. 'Sides, you sort of already got one, didn't 'cha? Don't push your luck, Zura."
Katsura chuckles quietly in reply, and a slip of paper flutters out from in between the folds of his yukata.
Called "Katsura" by Gin-san
Cut here
One time use