Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sakata Gintoki, twenty-seven, human resources director, eats and sleeps in his office, which is situated next to the poor bastards working for his good friend, Madao. Or Hasegawa Taizou, as he likes to be called now that he is a respectable man. Or so he says. 

Those bastards in question consist of:

The veteran, Takechi Henpeita, accounting and finances. 

The gorilla, Kondo Isao, prototype and maquette building. 

The glue, Kijima Matako, administration and marketing.

And the bad boy ex-roommate who rudely kicked him out when he needed him the most, Takasugi Shinsuke, project management.

It’s an odd group. To say the least. Having one screaming or throwing things at another is a daily occurence. Then Hasegawa shows up, fails at calming things down, and sends the troublemakers to Gintoki's office to ‘sort out their differences’. As if he were the building’s therapist or something. It isn’t like he doesn’t know they’re fighting and causing trouble, his office is right next to the open space where they work. And the walls are transparent. His inaction is intentional . But Hasegawa doesn’t seem to get it, yet.

"Alright, alright, let’s cut to the chase. What the heck is wrong this time?" He asks, lazily munching on a rice cracker as he tries to stay focused on the small TV he added to his office a week ago, hidden under his desk. They interrupted him in the middle of the most dramatic scene of Code Jeez.

"It’s not my fault!" Kondo immediately yells. "It’s Takechi."

"It is as much your fault as that dirty perv’s fault, damn you," Kijima almost growls and tries to stomp on his foot.

Kondo barely avoids it.

"Then why isn’t he also here?!"

"’Cos you were the one screaming your damn lungs out," Gintoki interjects, sighing and turning on his chair to face them. Code Jeez is ruined now, anyway. "Okay, Kijima, what happened? You got two minutes, go."

Kijima opens and closes her mouth, in a clear panic at hearing the time limit.

"Uh, right! Well then, ah. We were working on the new prototype for our sponsored water flasks, and I came up to Takechi’s desk, caught him red-handed watching a magical girl anime. So I scolded him for slacking off, but Kondo interrupted us."

"It was work-related!" Kondo immediately adds, incapable of sitting still on his chair. "I had a question! And since you’re so good with computers, Kijima-san, I-"

"He interrupted us, and did not ask any question at all, since the moment he saw the anime on Takechi’s screen, he went into an excited rant about it."

"It’s a good anime!"

"And so I found myself with two idiots with lolicon complexes to scold instead of one."

"It’s not a lolicon complex!" Kondo insists. "Magical girl animes are philosophical, Kijima-san!"

Gintoki frowns, crossing his hands on his desk.

"What are you saying, everyone knows shounen is the superior genre. Why do you think it’s so popular?"

"This isn’t about the genre!" Kijima yells, slapping a hand on the other side of Gintoki’s desk. "It’s about slacking off at work!"

"Yeah, yeah, that’s inexcusable," Gintoki agrees and glances at his small TV to make sure it's paused. "What do you have to say in your defence, Gorilla-man?" 

"I wasn't even the one slacking off!" Kondo protests. 

"You encouraged it! It is just as bad, if not worse," Kijima counters. 

"Worse?! This is discrimination against gorillas! Gin-sannn…!" 

"Hey now, you can't go around throwing accusations of discrimination at HR. That's a serious matter," He answers, and Kijima nods vigorously. 

"That's right, dumbass, gorillas are biologically inferior anyway so that's a moot point!" 

"See?!" Kondo screams, pointing a finger at Kijima. 

"Okay, okay, calm down," He sighs and slouches back in his chair, observing the pair. "Man, you two get along like candy and soda."

"And whose fault is that…" Kijima mutters.

Kondo answers with an offended ‘Oi!’ and Gintoki raises a hand.

"Alright, alright. I get it. Let’s fix this," He says and rummages under his desk.

"Yes. Please send him away on a training course." 

"Hey now that’s unfair! I’m good at my job now that I don’t touch computers anymore!"

"Okay enough, my ears will be bleeding by the end of the day with all your screeching," Gintoki complains and retrieves his black board, lifting it up on his desk. "Now listen up. This is an exclusive lesson you’ll be receiving from Ginpachi-sensei, so you better not miss a single second of it."

Kijima straightens up in her chair, like the good student she is. Kondo blinks and fidgets. Gintoki picks up a piece of chalk and starts writing on the board.

"So, right now you might be thinking that getting along is impossible," He says and draws two circles.

"Yes," Kijima confirms without hesitation.

"That’s mean, Kijima-san…"

"Fortunately for all of us," Gintoki continues and writes above the circles. "Relationships are just chemical reactions."

He underlines ‘chemical reactions’, and turns to his audience. Kondo is squinting at the board, while Kijima is frowning. Time to engage them.

"Kijima. Right now, what kind of internal reaction do you get when you come into contact with that guy?"

"Anger. Irritation. Frustration. Rag-"

"So mean!!" Kondo cries out next to her.

Gintoki nods.

"See, candy and soda. You come close to each other and boom, a volcano erupts," He says and draws an explosion effect between the two circles. "We gotta change the nature of the elements for them to react differently."

"I agree," Kijima says, and Gintoki smiles in satisfaction. "But this dumbass is incapable of change."

"Well, maybe it’s you who needs to change then, Kijima-san…" Kondo mutters. 

"Alright, alright, you get the gist of it, that’s good. But don’t go thinking it’s all that simple! First, humans are made of lots of different things. We gotta know exactly what elements are clashing like that."

"Um… What do you mean, Gin-san?"

"I mean," He says and puts down the chalk for dramatic effect. "You have to locate the candy. And Kijima, the soda."

"The entirety of his being is candy," Kijima scowls. 

"Aw, look Gorilla, she's saying you're sweet." 

"Wh— I'm not saying that! I'm saying it's impossible! You incompetent degenerate, I knew we should have never hired you." 

"Me?" Kondo asks, puppy eyes and all. 

Kijima huffs loudly, and Gintoki slouches back into his seat, crossing his fingers on his belly. 

"Both of you, actually! But…" She pauses and sends Gintoki an unreadable look, her blue eyes intense, a wrinkle between her eyebrows betraying an emotion he cannot decipher. "Maybe especially you." 

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?" 

And then it evaporates like it was just a lone droplet in a blazing summer, and Kijima frowns, points at him, and yells. 

"It means you are disturbing Shinsuke-sama! And I'm keeping an eye on you." 

"Huh?!" 

"You know very well what I'm talking about," She switches to whispering and narrows her eyes. "Considering… your…" She falters, her face gradually turning red as she searches for the right words. "...You know. But it's clear as day your presence is unwelcome." 

Gintoki sighs and waves a hand in the air dismissively. 

"Nah, he's glad I'm here. It's just his super special way of showing affection." 

"Hmpf!" Kijima doesn't elaborate further than an unhappy grunt, and folds her arms to signal the end of the conversation. 

Kondo, who spent the whole time alternatively looking between them both, shifts on his chair, a sheepish look on his face. 

"Ah, eh… Let's not fight. I'm sure… Sugi-san is just a very serious and responsible person, right? I'm sure that's the reason he, um, sort of avoids Gin-san. And… doesn't eat lunch with us when he's around. And sends him emails instead of going to his office, which is only three steps away. And—"

"Yeah yeah yeah, enough, I think the audience got it!" 

"Your presence is disturbing him," Kijima insists and Gintoki snaps. 

"Y'know what, blondie? If you're just here to insult my impeccable work, then you can just walk right out!" 

"Fine!" She yells and stands up abruptly. 

"And don't forget to locate the soda!" Gintoki screams at her when she opens the door. 

She closes it with an angry bang. 

"So, um…" Kondo says while Gintoki switches his TV back on. "Gin-san, where… exactly is the candy?" 

"Dunno, probably somewhere stuck between your shitty computer skills and lack of pragmatism." 

Kondo deflates. 

"She will always hate me, huh…" 

"Nah, don't lose hope yet. Remember the candy, Gorilla. Just don't make it come into contact with her soda fountain." 

"She was right, Gin-san… I am made of sweet candy, and she is made of fizzy soda. We are bound to cause a soda volcano every time…" 

Gintoki picks up a pencil from his desk and throws it at Kondo's head like a dart. 

"Stop whining and get out of my office now. I've got tons of work to do!" 

Kondo rubs his forehead where a red mark is forming, staring sadly at the floor. 

"Yes… sorry for disturbing you, Gin-san. I'll try to find the candy, and keep it away from the soda." 

"Great. You can do it, Gorilla-man." 

Kondo gives him a wobbly smile before he stands up, and leaves his office. Gintoki gives him one last thumb-up, which he returns quite pathetically. 

Alone, finally. 

Gintoki turns back to Code Jeez. 

" Your entire existence is a mistake! " Says one ex-best friend to another. 

He turns off Code Jeez. 

Okay. He doesn't really want to be alone, after all. He shifts in his chair and rolls closer to his desk, hitting the shortcut button on his desk phone to call Hasegawa's office. It rings twice before the man answers, his voice coming out quick and nervous.

" Yes? "

"Hi, old man. How are we doing today?"

" Gin-san, I'm sorry but I'm a bit busy, so— "

"Oh, sure, so you can send troublemakers to my office whatever the time of day but I should make an appointment to report back to you. Got it."

" Ah, no, um… did you want to talk now, then…? "

"I'll come over."

" Wait, wait, I'm in the middle of— "

Gintoki hangs up, stretches his arms, and stands up. Fifteen minutes later, he's lounging in Hasegawa's office, feet up on his friend's desk.

"So, I told her to find the soda."

"What an interesting method…" Hasegawa nods with an uncertain smile. "And, um, do you think it will improve their productivity? Matsudaira-san has been pressuring me lately…"

Gintoki waves a hand in the air.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry. Takasugi will whip them into shape if need be."

"Uh… violence is illegal in the office, Gin-san."

"It's a manner of speech old man, relax, geez…"

"No, but, I don't think you understand what's at stake," Hasegawa twists his hands nervously and Gintoki yawns.

"I understand perfectly well."

"We're in the red, Gin-san. If their results are anything less than exceptional, this team—"

"Oh, come on! We already had the 'you risk being fired' episode, be more original."

Hasegawa shakes his head and lowers his eyes to his clenched hands.

"No, we won't be fired. But Matsudaira-san is betting a lot on this project. If it doesn’t go well, I will be demoted. And if I get demoted…" He takes in a breath and his lips tremble. "Hatsu… She said this is my last chance. With her. So I can't fail!"

"You know, you shouldn't let her lead you around by the nose like that. Take the reins a little! Leave her first, she won't expect that."

"W-what? But I don't want to leave her…"

Gintoki removes his feet from Hasegawa's desk to sit properly, and rolls his chair closer. He lays his hands flat on the desk and looks his companion straight in the eyes.

"If you leave first, it'll create the illusion that you're the desirable one. We all know you're not. But you could trick her. Then she'll run after you and bam. Happy ending."

"Well, I… Unfortunately, if I leave, I don't think she will run after me…" Hasegawa answers in a whisper, eyes downcast.

"You're the one always begging for her attention, of course she’s getting comfortable," Gintoki shrugs and leans back, slouching once again and making the chair creak.

"Gin-san, she chose me while I was way poorer than her family! I'm the lucky one, she could do so much better than me…"

Gintoki watches him passionately argue Hatsu's case, hands agitated and knee bouncing. He holds back a sigh and cocks his head to the side.

"So why hasn't she?"

Hasegawa opens and closes his mouth, eyebrows high on his forehead. Gintoki rolls his eyes at the ceiling and shakes his head.

"Yeah, you figure that out on your own," He says and stands up.

This is depressing him. He needs to take a walk outside and breathe some fresh air.

"Gin-san, please, if you can help with the project…!" Hasegawa shouts as he crosses the doorway.

"Yeah, yeah," Gintoki waves a hand in the air dismissively.

He will help his friend find some big names who will advertise their trash. Later. When the project manager stops hating him. Forgetting about the job is exactly what he needs right now.

He exits the office, walking through the narrow corridor and turning left towards the elevator. He startles and slows to a stop when he sees someone else waiting there. A silhouette he knows very well. He loudly clears his throat and walks up to him at a normal pace, hands going inside his pockets to mimic nonchalance. Takasugi turns his head, green eyes staring without a hint of emotion.

"Yes?" He asks.

Gintoki smiles smugly, walking the rest of the way to wait by his side.

"Hello, good morning," He says in a sweet voice. 

Takasugi sighs and just looks straight forward, as if he could summon the elevator by wishing hard enough.

"Good morning."

Gintoki stays resolutely silent, eyes also focused forward. He thinks about what Kijima and Kondo said earlier about Takasugi's avoidant behaviour. He thinks about Hasegawa and his wife who obviously loves him. He thinks about Katsura, who occupies what was once his room. He thinks of Sakamoto's last postcard he sent from Slovenia, with a few photos of him and Mutsu. 

"Going for a smoke?" He asks, feeling jittery.

He's annoyed now.

"Yeah," Takasugi answers, with no follow-up question.

He's extra annoyed now. The elevator dings and the doors open. They both step inside and he half-expects Takasugi to be ridiculous enough to quickly exit at the last moment so they won't have to ride together. But he stays put. And silent.

"You're such a joy to be around," Gintoki can't help but comment anyway.

"That's not my problem," Takasugi answers and it makes Gintoki's heart skip a beat, seeing an opening for banter, could it be the blizzard is over, could it be they will finally go back to what it—

The elevator stops and the doors open, Takasugi steps out without looking back. Damn, he's lost his chance. Gintoki stumbles after him and tries anyway.

"Hey, it is kinda your problem. You'll never attract anyone this way."

Takasugi only sends him a throwaway look over his shoulder before walking away, right hand digging in his inside pocket and taking a packet of cigarettes out. Gintoki watches him go, frown on his face. Damn, he's extremely annoyed now.

He huffs and walks to the doors leading outside. They won't cross each other if he goes left, the smoking area being situated on the right. He will just ignore him back. It's no big deal. 

So, yes, maybe Takasugi has been avoiding him a little bit lately. 

He will have to rewind time and search his memories back a few weeks to explain exactly how that happened.

Chapter Text

"Don't be so moody," Gintoki says as he sits down at his brand new desk. The chair is comfortable enough. He's pretty sure he could live here. "From roommates to colleagues. It's not that big of a difference."

"There is a huge difference," Takasugi says — moodily — and keeps glaring at him, sitting in the opposite chair and staying still as a rock.

Gintoki sighs and waves a hand in the air.

"Not 'huge', don't exaggerate."

"Yes, huge. Because we aren't colleagues, dumbass. You're technically my superior. Even though you don't know the slightest thing about your job and I'm a hundred times more skilled than you."

"How hard can this be?" He shrugs. "You talk to people, you fill a few papers, you sit on your ass while people try to convince you to hire them…"

"Do you know how to write a payslip?"

"You write numbers, taxes, fill in the name, bam."

"Which numbers?"

"Their salary, obviously."

"And how do you know what their salary is?"

"I roll a dice," He answers as seriously as he can.

"No," Takasugi says, absolutely unyielding. "How do you calculate it, Gintoki?"

"With their work hours," He answers confidently. 

"Their work hours, and?"

"Some number decided by the government."

"Which is?"

"Urgh… I don't know, but it's not like—"

"You don't know," Takasugi interrupts, stressing the words. "What about expenses claims?"

"Expe-what?"

"Performance rewards?"

"No one's good enough for that here, so no worries."

"Health insurance subscriptions?"

"Isn't that already taken care of?"

"You'll have to know if we get new employees. Commuter benefits?"

"What, seriously, does anyone use the train on this team?"

"You don't know," Takasugi repeats, raising his eyebrows.

He still hasn't moved an inch and his presence is — maybe, a little bit — becoming intimidating. Gintoki sighs to try and diffuse the dark aura slowly filling the room.

"Look, I won't mess up your pay, alright? Stop with the interrogation, I'll figure things out as I go."

"You better hope I don't find anything missing from my bank account next month."

"I won't mess it up, geez… Relax already. Besides, that's not only what HR is about. You should get ready for your weekly appointment in my office to tell me how you're feeling."

"You aren't a therapist."

"Let me read the job description for you," Gitnoki says smugly and picks up the only paper he has on his desk. "Assisting employees, supporting employee development, overseeing training programs, managing employee relations, managing diversity, equity and inclusion efforts—"

"None of that means I'll have to sit in your office every week just to chat."

"And why not?" Gintoki asks and lowers the paper back down. "I'll have to regularly make sure you aren't experiencing discrimination or harassment. That's my job now."

Takasugi scoffs and finally moves, leaning back on his seat.

"You're the most likely to be accused of harassment here."

"How so?! My only crime is caring about your well-being. But, as usual, that's out of line for Takasugi-san who cannot tolerate the tiniest bit of—"

"Don't finish that sentence."

Gintoki raises his eyebrows and moves his body forward, fully intending to be provocative.

"The tiniest bit of weakness," He finishes in a secretive whisper.

"This is a joke," He answers and crosses his arms, his eyes seizing Gintoki up. "You're the one in a position of weakness right now, because you have absolutely no idea how to do your job. I'm only here because I don't want my salary to be even a day late. So stop clowning around now, and boot up your computer. We'll go over everything."

"Alright, alright," Gintoki allows and hits the power button, sighing deeply. "I'll let you bask in your feelings of superiority, see how generous I am?"

"Shut up. There's a 'second floor’ folder on the server. Open it. Then look for the 'admin' folder."

"Don't dictate my actions."

"Get used to it."

"You're a terrible teacher. Nothing will stick if you keep bossing me around like this. You should be more considerate, or I risk messing up your pay, who knows~"

"I wasn't clear enough, I think," Takasugi says and grabs a pen from the pencil cup on the desk. He then uncaps it and slams it down, tip first, only a few centimetres away from Gintoki's left hand. Who yelps and quickly removes his hand. "I advise you not to mess up my pay."

"Are you crazy?!"

"Yes. Now proceed," He says calmly, caps the pen and slowly puts it back into the cup. "Admin folder."

Gintoki grumbles and screams the morning away. Each time he makes a mistake, Takasugi throws a pen at him, or tries to stab his hand, or kicks his shin under the desk. He complains and remembers the basics, and only the basics. 

Takasugi, as one of the few employees who made it past 'The Cleansing', was naturally appointed as his teacher for the first few days. He shouldn't know all of these things, clearly, but what is Takasugi Shinsuke if not prepared for every situation imaginable? So of course he knows how to do stuff he has never had to do for one single day in his life. Probably because he is afraid for his salary. But Gintoki will take extra care to do his papers the right way. He might get murdered otherwise.

At noon, he starts complaining about being hungry and Takasugi refuses to budge for fifteen minutes before he finally yields and agrees to take a break.

“This place even has a cafeteria,” Gintoki comments as they pass the double door, moved at the sight of so much food and sniffing the air contentedly. “I am home.”

“It’s not free.”

“It’s alright, you’re paying, right?” He asks with a grin.

They get into line behind a middle-aged balding man and Takasugi sighs, shrugs, and answers:

“Just this once.”

“I knew it, you take your teaching position very seriously. How could you have lived with yourself, letting your student pay for his meal?”

“No, you just don’t have your employee card yet,” Takasugi denies as he extracts his badge from his pocket and waves it in the air. “Have you asked for it?”

“Eh… No.”

Gintoki quickly swipes it from Takasugi’s hand when curiosity gets the better of him. Immediately, Takasugi turns and curses at him, reaching to take it back. Gintoki holds it above his head and squints his eyes at it, staring at the small photo printed in the corner.

“Why do you look like you’re seconds away from killing someone?”

Takasugi stretches on his tiptoes to violently grab his card from Gintoki’s hand, making him yelp in surprise.

“Because I hate pictures and you know this. Fuck off,” He grumbles as a response and shoves his badge back into his pocket. “You’re insufferable today.”

“What? I’m excited to be here.”

“Yeah, and that makes you insufferable.”

Gintoki sighs loudly but refrains from commenting. They move up the line until they get to the trays and the various meals enter Gintoki’s line of sight. He marvels at everything, tries to do so in silence, and takes a long time to choose between beef and fried chicken. When they get to the register, he glances at Takasugi’s tray, almost empty compared to his own. Which makes the man in question frown for a second, pausing right after he announces to the clerk he is getting the two meals.

“You’re going to eat all that?”

“You’re only eating that?” Gintoki counters, nodding to the solitary salmon and rice combo accompanied by a yakult and water bottle.

“You're only doing this because I'm paying, aren’t you?”

“What? As much as I love taking advantage of your wallet, I actually—”

The clerk clears his throat and Takasugi quietly apologises, takes the receipt and walks away. Gintoki follows nonchalantly.

“I told you we should have taken a break earlier, I would’ve been less hungry then.”

“Just shut it.”

Gintoki frowns at the back of Takasugi’s head as he leads them into the next room. He has noticed his friend is especially grouchy today. When Gintoki’s suspicions were proven correct and Hasegawa hired him right into the company Takasugi had been complaining about for the time they lived together, he had been elated. Spending so much time with him again after all these years made him— regretful, almost. When Takasugi and Katsura went to slam the door in his face he had felt afraid to lose that rekindled friendship. Sure, they never went back to the easy conversations they had back in school, but they could still get along very well. It was nice while it lasted. 

Working together now makes it impossible for Takasugi to cross him out of his life again if he so wishes. Which is what Gintoki suspects is the real cause of his bad mood, and not whatever bullshit excuse he mentioned like Gintoki’s supposed incompetence.

They walk inside the cafeteria side by side, rows of tables are arranged neatly and half-filled with men in suits, either eating noisily or talking on their phone, or both at the same time. Gintoki scans the area quickly in search of Hasegawa but gets distracted by a loud call from their left as they pass the third table of the room:

“Oh, Sugi-san! Over here!”

Gintoki whips his head in the direction of the sound while Takasugi stops dead in his tracks. 

A man in his thirties is waving in their direction, his suit is stained with sauce right under his collar and his hair is spiking up. He is smiling widely, and Gintoki is immediately intrigued. Who, in their right mind, would dare to call Takasugi Shinsuke by such a cute nickname? This is certainly something the man in question has failed to mention, even when drunkenly recounting work events. Which leaves only one possibility: this is Kondo Isao, the gorilla, and the bane of Takasugi’s work life.

Slowly turning to his companion, Gintoki starts grinning.

“Oh, you’re popular. Care to introduce us, Sugi-kun?”

Takasugi, to his credit, stays perfectly still and unperturbed, staring at the culprit sitting down to their left. He is eating with two other men Gintoki scrutinises, one old enough to be his father and the other some kind of ‘cool guy’ surely very popular with women.

“Come, come, you can join us with your friend, too!” Kondo keeps going, blissfully unaware of the tense and darkening aura growing around his colleague.

He stands and changes seats, leaving his previous spot open while sliding his tray to the side, now sitting in front of the older man. Who eventually speaks, voice booming: 

“Yes, Takasugi-san, come sit with us. Don’t be shy.”

Kondo looks back at them with a big and close lipped smile. Takasugi still doesn’t move for a long, tense second. Gintoki clears his throat.

“Thank you, but I think we’ll—” Takasugi starts to decline and Gintoki steps forward, eager to interrupt.

“We’ll be delighted to join you, of course we will,” He grins and sets his tray down loudly next to Kondo, looking back at Takasugi as he does so. “Right, Sugi-kun?”

Takasugi’s cold, neutral expression meets his instead. 

“Right, right, Takasugi-san is one of those lone wolves after all. Ferocious, aren’t you? Maybe I should watch myself, inviting you to my table, wahaha!” The older man laughs out loud and Gintoki observes Takasugi’s reaction.

His face is closed and he looks positively murderous. ‘Ferocious’ indeed. Gintoki holds back a smile, entertained by the situation.

“Oh, no, you have nothing to worry about, Matsudaira-san!” Kondo answers with a laugh and a wave of a hand. “Sugi-san really is a softie underneath that death glare! Haha!”

“Good to know!” The man answers. “Well, Takasugi-san, if you are not planning on murdering me and usurping my spot as CEO, then please join us!”

He pushes at the shoulder of the man sitting next to him, clearly inviting Takasugi to sit there in his place. Gintoki watches the man in question grimace, grit his teeth, but comply and change seats without a word.

Takasugi still doesn’t move, but he does eventually speak:

“Why, Matsudaira-san, it’s a dangerous game to give your employees ideas.”

“You don’t need me for ‘ideas’, though, Takasugi-san,” The man answers and Gintoki can feel the electricity crackling between them. “This is exactly why I like to keep you close. Now, come join us.”

“Yeah!” Kondo exclaims, still smiling and unaware. “Come join the VIP table, come on!”

“Don’t be shy,” Gintoki adds quietly, stressing the last word while echoing what the older man said earlier which he is sure annoyed Takasugi to the maximum.

“If you insist,” Takasugi answers, beautifully ignoring Gintoki’s last comment while he makes his way to the designated spot between the big boss and the quiet ‘cool guy’.

Who Kondo introduces the moment Takasugi’s pitifully empty tray hits the table.

“Oh, by the way! This is Hijikata Toshirou, an old friend of mine! I recommended him to Matsudaira-san.”

“Hello,” The man says plainly, barely meeting their eyes and nodding his head in greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

Takasugi says nothing at all, snapping his chopsticks and preparing to eat in silence. Gintoki decides to take on the hurdle of socialising for two, today.

“Same. I’m Sakata Gintoki, HR department. Let’s all get along.”

Takasugi sends him a quick look and Gintoki smiles at him. He is quite proud of his professional voice, he practised it in the mirror this morning.

“I’m Kondo Isao! Nice to meet you, I'm glad to see so many new faces, it’s refreshing!”

“Isn’t it?” Matsudaira nods, stirring his soup slowly. “I love seeing the company take a fresh start every now and then.”

“As we’ve noticed,” Takasugi comments and Kondo laughs nervously.

“Yes, haven't some of you given it a nickname? The Cleaning, or something similar. How original.”

“Very.”

“I’m sure you and your brilliant ideas could come up with a more exciting name, Takasugi-san.”

“I don’t know if you would like to see that happen, Matsudaira-san.”

“Whahaha! Why not? Surprise me!”

“Maybe in a few months.”

Gintoki watches the electric exchange like a tennis match, fascinated. It is something to know Takasugi is, well, Takasugi, and tends to react aggressively to authority, and it is another to witness him sending his big boss veiled threats with calm and confidence. 

Which seems to unsettle the other new guy, as he throws worried glances to the two men and eventually intervenes:

“Oi… You can’t speak like this to Matsudaira-san.”

“Hahaha! Why, it’s fine, Toshirou, we’re all staying polite! Right, Takasugi-san?”

“Of course.”

“Y-yeah!” Kondo adds. “Sugi-san is part of Matsudaira-san’s favourites after all!”

“Right he is!” Matsudaira agrees loudly and slaps Takasugi’s back.

Gintoki can pinpoint the moment Takasugi’s mood goes from annoyed to murderous, in the twitch of his eyebrow and crossing of his chopsticks that make a piece of salmon fall right onto his tray with the force of the impact. He holds his breath for a moment, wondering just how far down teenage-Takasugi is buried and whether or not he will witness another physical fight initiated by bad-boy-delinquent-Takasugi.

But teenage-Takasugi must be buried deep enough, because he stays put, only putting down his chopsticks very slowly. Gintoki can see him breathe.

“So. What’s your job, anyway, Ogushi-kun?”

Gintoki gestures to the other new guy with his chopsticks, hoping to distract everyone from Takasugi’s explosive mood.

“What…? Me? I’m Hijikata,” The man answers with a displeased frown, effectively looking away from his direct neighbour. “And I work in security.”

“Eh, really.”

“What?” Hijikata repeats, his frown deepening.

And this is when Gintoki’s eyes fall on his plate. He gasps loudly at the horrifying sight of it.

“What is— is that mayo?!”

“Yes, it’s mayo,” He answers and protectively surrounds his plate with his left hand. “You have a problem with it?!”

“Haha! Toshi is a big fan of mayonnaise.”

“It’s disgusting,” Gintoki says plainly.

“Have you tried mayo?! There is nothing disgusting about this!”

“In reasonable quantities!” Gintoki passionately argues, offended at the food crime being committed in front of his delicate eyes. “This is the stuff of nightmares! You’ve ruined my lunch!”

“Don’t you dare,” Takasugi quietly threatens at the same time Hijikata yells that it’s nonsense. “You better finish your plate.”

“With this greasy abomination right under my nose?!”

“Sakata-san, was it?” Matsudaira calls him and Gintoki inclines his head to meet the older man’s eyes. “I will ask that you respect my employees’ tastes and refrain from insulting their eating habits. Yes?”

“But, Boss, look at his plate. Look at it.”

“Toshirou’s plate is perfect the way it is.”

“Is it?” He asks and wrinkles his nose.

He catches Takasugi’s eyes, who only lifts his eyebrows nonchalantly, as if trying to communicate something.

“Sakata-san,” Matsudaira repeats, this time more gravely. “This is your first warning.”

“What?!” He cannot help but exclaim, eyes going wide. “Uh. Okay. Uhmm, nice plate, Hijikata-kun. Very original. I shouldn’t criticise when I've never tried it. Haha.”

“Yes, maybe you should apologise to Toshirou, Sakata-san.”

“What, seriously? Uhh. Sorry, clearly mayo is… underrated.”

“Mayo is underrated.” Hijikata nods, unshields his plate and reaches for the mayonnaise bottle.

Gintoki watches him with incredulous silence.

“I’m glad we’re all getting along!” Kondo exclaims with a smile.

–

By now, the audience is probably on the edge of their seat, wondering what happened. Gintoki marks a dramatic pause in the flashback, taking some time to drink a beer and eat a snack.

He is now ready to keep going. The audience can bear with him a little longer.

Chapter Text

They walk back into Gintoki’s office at half past one, and he finally gets to speak his mind when Takasugi closes the door behind himself.

“What is wrong with this old man? Sheesh. He would have fired me because I dared point out the obvious mayo-crime of his dear ‘Toshirou’?!” He vents and goes to his desk chair, dramatically falling on it.

“Don’t let him get to you. It’s his game, you have to be more subtle,” Takasugi answers calmly, joining him as he sits down on the chair opposite.

“You weren’t very subtle.”

“More than you. It’s fine if you can’t handle it, there are lots of other jobs you could do.”

Gintoki frowns, watching Takasugi reach for the mouse to get the computer out of sleep mode.

“With that kind of pay? Nah. I can suck up to him just fine.”

“Mmh.”

“You don’t think I can?”

“I think you’re an impulsive idiot, Gintoki. You can’t go very long without speaking your mind. Anyway, we aren't even halfway done with the training. Let’s get back to it,” Takasugi says and pushes the mouse towards him.

“You're an impulsive idiot, and look at you, toeing the subtlety line and getting just shy of getting fired,” Gintoki answers and grabs the mouse, opening the excel file they left abandoned.

He isn’t looking forward to this afternoon at all. Maybe he should look for another job. But the pay… And Takasugi as a coworker…

“Yeah, maybe it’s my legendary charm keeping me from unemployment. Alright, we’ll start on expense claims next.”

“No, it’s definitely because this bastard knows you’re worth a hundred gorillas.”

“A hundred Kondos? Not even, he isn’t worth anything. Leave this file for now, open the fourth folder.”

“So, what’re you gonna do, anyway? Another revolution? Are we beheading the CEO?”

“Just shut up and focus on what’s in front of you right now. Fourth folder.”

“How much do you think this guy earns each month? He must be pretty damn secure if he casually fires over half his men every few years.”

“Yes, he’s rich. Which is why he is an asshole. QED. Now stop trying to distract me.”

“QED? Maths speak? Am I hearing this right?”

“Click on that damn folder or it’s your foot I'll click on.”

“Okay, okay, sheesh.”

-

The next day, Gintoki meets Kijima Matako for the first time.

“I-it’s you! What are you doing here?!” She yells at him the moment he opens the door of the open space.

So maybe not the very first time. But where has he seen her befo— Ah. Sushi restaurant.

You shouldn’t trust this man. Heartbreaker with a capital “H”. His ex.

Right.

“Uhm. Yes, it’s me. Hello,” He says and waves, going for innocent friendliness.

“A-are you…?” She begins to ask and looks around quickly, lowering her voice.

Gintoki lifts his eyes. The open space is empty save for one man sitting behind his computer, staring at it with dead dark eyes. His presence is enough to render Kijima quiet and embarrassed, clearing her throat discreetly.

“Still…?” She ends in a barely audible whisper, her blue eyes piercing.

Still what, still fake-angry at his fake-ex? Still exes with his fake-ex? Still available? Still fake-gay? Still what?

“Well, would you look at the time!” He exclaims and laughs, already walking towards his office. “I should go or I'll be late for my training! Good seeing you, Kijima-san, good day to you!”

“W-what, but—!”

He doesn’t let her finish and makes a beeline to his office, opening and closing the door quickly. He finds Takasugi already sitting there, playing with a pen. He lifts his head when Gintoki enters, fixing him with a neutral expression.

“You’re late.”

“Yeah yeah, just a bit,” He mumbles and goes to his desk chair.

He forgot the Kijima variable in the equation. The Kijima who thinks they’re exes and who doesn’t seem very intent on forgetting about their silly interaction the way he did. Which, depending on how close she and Takasugi are now, might have made it to his ears. Maybe she will go find him and inquire about how he is coping with working under his ex who hates him. 

Takasugi will murder him if that happens.

“So, I saw your lovely co-worker when I walked in,” He comments, testing the waters as he enters his password into the computer.

“He’s strange, but efficient.”

“Uh, no. Ew. You think I'd call that old man “lovely”? I meant the other one. The glue.”

“Right. And?”

“And,” He begins, brain working hard and sweat forming under his palms already. He makes aimless patterns with his mouse for the time it takes the computer to fully load his home screen. “She remembers me. Funny, huh? Guess I made an impression.”

“She—...” Takasugi repeats and trails off. 

Gintoki meets his eyes, their iris fixed and focused on a different moment in time. He nods, offering an awkward smile.

“Yeah. Knew it. You totally forgot about that, too.”

“Hell… So she still thinks we’re…?” He doesn’t finish, instead his face turns sour like he just swallowed a lemon.

“Yeah, it’s fine, I'll take care of it,” Gintoki reassures him immediately, clicking on a few icons to pick up where they left things yesterday. “I’ll tell her we cleared the air or something, and we’re totally buddies now.”

“ No, you don’t say anything at all. You’ll just make it worse, as usual.”

“What? I’m an expert at this—”

“If she asks, just say it’s none of her damn business. She’ll forget eventually.”

“Or, this will intrigue her even more and she’ll start stalking you!” He retorts with confidence.

He’s speaking from direct experience, after all. The less he said the worse Sacchan got. He shudders just thinking about it. Fortunately she seems to have given up these days. Maybe she got tired, or—

Ah. No.

The supermarket.

Sacchan, this is Takasugi Shinsuke. The love of my life.

Right. He totally forgot about that, too.

“Stalking is illegal,” Takasugi easily answers. “I doubt Kijima is stupid enough to break the law because she is… intrigued. No, trust me, just ignore her.”

“Eh, as you wish. Don’t come crying when she’ll start harassing you.”

“She won’t harass me. Anyway, can you summarise everything we went through yesterday?”

“Sure, we filled a few excel files with boring information.”

“Gintoki.”

“I got it, I got it, don’t worry. Let’s move on, what do I need to know next? How to make the employees happy? Because I have tons of ideas already.”

“No. We’re far from done with the administrative details.”

“Urgh…”

They spend the morning on other boring files and Gintoki seriously doubts he will not die of boredom if he has to do this every month. He complains, Takasugi kicks him, they argue about useless things and when noon hits, Gintoki immediately stands up. He declares it’s time to eat and Takasugi barely has time to reprimand him once again before he is out of the door.

His eyes cross Kijima’s blue ones at the other end of the room and he slows down, smiles widely and waves. If he pretends everything is fine, she will eventually believe it. 

“Gintoki you lazy bastard, get back here so we can at least finish what we started,” Takasugi yells from the door frame.

Gintoki stops, glancing at Kijima to observe her reaction. She blinks, frowns, twists her mouth; but says nothing. He looks over at the other employee in the room, to his left. The man is staring right at him, hands hovering over his keyboard as if he stopped typing specifically to observe the scene. Creepily, Gintoki would add. He shivers and finally turns around to face Takasugi.

“Come on… We did good work this morning, we deserve that break.”

“After we’re done with the insurance papers.”

“They’re not going anywhere, we can do them after lunch.”

“After lunch you’ll complain that it’s nap time.”

“And right now I'm complaining that it’s lunch time. Come on Sugi-kun.”

“Stop calling me that.”

Gintoki sighs and turns around, mind made up as he resumes walking to the door. 

“I’m going to go eat, whatever you say.”

Takasugi curses but Gintoki hears him pick up his jacket from his chair and follow behind him.

He grins, satisfied. His eyes cross Kijima’s yet again as he gets closer to the door, Takasugi on his heels. She is staring at them in turn, eyebrows furrowed. Statiscally, Gintoki would say there is a ninety nine percent chance she is trying to figure out the nature of their relationship. Takasugi said to ignore her, as if that would solve the issue. He is wrong, of course, and Gintoki is tempted to make this obvious as soon as possible. He sends Kijima another smile. Her gaze fixes on him, full frown on display. The best way to make sure she doesn’t harass Takasugi is to make her believe they made up and are back together. Fake-together. 

This time when they get into the cafeteria, Takasugi makes a beeline for Hasegawa’s table, the closest to an empty one as he is the only one sitting at it. Gintoki painfully holds back a laugh. 

“Oh!” Hasegawa exclaims when he spots them, Takasugi’s tray quietly settling in front of him. “Hello, Gin-san, Takasugi-san. It’s nice to see you both.”

“Hey,” Gintoki greets back, choosing to sit next to Takasugi instead of Hasegawa. Just to bother him in his lonely brooding, to tick him off a little. “How is everything going? Are you getting comfortable, mister executive?”

Hasegawa laughs awkwardly, hanging his head and scratching his hair.

“Oh, well, yes, I’m settling. It’s a lot of pressure but, I'm glad I was able to secure such a high ranking job! I feel like I've lost so much confidence since I was fired, it’s hard filling those shoes again…”

“Keep a low profile and it will be fine,” Takasugi says, breaking off his chopsticks.

Gintoki watches him, a little awed at his willingness to give out useful advice for free. He used to be harsher than this. He smiles to himself, satisfied.

“Yeah, the big boss here is a real asshole. He almost fired me over mayonnaise yesterday.”

“M-mayo…?” 

“He plays favourites!” Gintoki adds, nodding his head as he stirs his miso soup. “So you gotta make your way up there, but in the meantime, yep, don’t make waves. Or else!”

“I-I see… Well, I'll be careful. Thank you for the advice!” Hasegawa smiles and bows his head to them.

Gintoki elbows Takasugi, grinning widely.

“Look Madao, this guy’s already in the boss’s good graces. Who knew, eh?”

“I’m not. Completely the opposite,” Takasugi scoffs in response. “I led a rebellion here, remember?”

“Ah yes, yes, you’re playing your own game of attrition with the big bad that us lowly mortals cannot comprehend!” Gintoki snickers and slurps his soup.

Takasugi ignores him to address Hasegawa instead, calm and serious.

“I don’t think you have much to worry about. Matsudaira is focused on me for now, he won’t bother you for as long as I'm a thorn in his side.”

“Oh… Alright, then. You know, you really are cool, Takasugi-san,” Hasegawa answers with a nod and a smile.

Takasugi shakes his head and Gintoki laughs, elbowing him once more.

“Look at you, I'm so proud.”

“What?” He answers aggressively, making Gintoki want to poke at his sensitive nerves even more. “I have always been like this, you and your maths theories did nothing to change me, so don’t even say it.”

“Okay, I didn't say it,” Gintoki says innocently and raises his hands up in surrender.

It is hours after the lunch period ended that Kondo barges happily into his office. In the middle of the afternoon, the sun shining hard through the blinds, Takasugi sitting next to him to review his performance at filling boring excel files with boring info with an old desk fan blowing air in their faces. Takasugi cannot finish his sentence with the interruption and Gintoki only blinks, slouched in his chair. Kondo yells ‘hello!! ’ and closes the door behind himself with an unwarranted enthusiasm.

“Sugi-san! I’ve been officially chosen to be part of your team!” He announces and walks to the desk.

He looks around for a chair to sit and gives up quickly at the barren state of the office, instead resting his hands on the desk.

“Isn't it great?” He insists then, faced with the silence of the two other men.

“What do you mean ‘my team’?” Takasugi speaks first, low and calm.

“Uh, yeah,” Gintoki quickly adds, confused. “You’re a team again? I thought the big boss said he’d shuffle you all around.”

“Yes! He did!” Kondo yells again and Gintoki holds back a snort at Takasugi's dissatisfied grimace. “But he must have realised that we do great things together, so we’re back to being a team, Sugi-san!”

“I see. And what exactly is this team?” Takasugi asks.

Kondo grins and straightens to his full height, putting his hands on his hips.

“The boss has big hopes for us! We are a project team, tasked with coming up with the next trendy thing that will take over the world.” 

“Just that,” Gintoki lazily comments.

“Who are we working under exactly?” 

“Oh, uh. A new guy. Kazewara-san? No, um…”

Gintoki shares a look with Takasugi, both of them coming to the same conclusion. He nods and Takasugi sighs quietly.

“Hasegawa, perhaps?” He asks and Kondo lights up immediately.

“Yes! That was it, Hasegawa-san! Let’s do our best to impress him!”

“Nice,” Gintoki says with a wide grin while Takasugi just shakes his head.

“And what’s the team? Not just you and me, I hope…”

“Oh, no, Kijima-san is part of it, of course! Since we worked so well last month. Also… Take—...?”

“Takechi.”

“Yes! I don't know who that is, but let’s do our best to give him a warm welcome too!”

“And who else? The two clowns?”

“Ah, no, just us four. We have the entire open space to ourselves! Isn't that nice?”

“Well, if my job is changing, then my contract is, also,” Takasugi says and slowly turns his head to stare right at Gintoki. He comfortably holds his gaze, lifting his chin. “And that would be the best moment to negotiate a raise, wouldn’t it, mister HR?”

“Why’s that? You need to get results first, then we’ll talk.”

“That’s not how it works. Idiot. We went over this yesterday, when you want to reward specific results we’re talking about a bonus, not a raise. A raise means that the contract itself has to be updated, which means—”

“I was joking, sheesh. Relax. Just tell me what number to write on your payslip, I'll even add a few zeroes at the end.”

“No, you moron. ”

“Your loss.”

Kondo laughs, still riding the high of his clear happiness at working with his old colleagues again.

“It’s nice that you’re here, Sakata-san! I’m sure you’ll take good care of us.”

“Yeah, so you don’t need that formality with me,” He answers with a grin.

Kondo's smile gets wider and he nods vigorously.

“Alright! Well, I'll take my things and settle at a desk here. See you around!”

“Yup.”

“Sure.”

Kondo leaves the office while sending them a last thumb up, radiating joy. Gintoki stares at his companion, pleased to see his signature frown drawn on his features. He seizes the opportunity to talk first.

“The next trendy thing, eh…”

Takasugi groans and Gintoki laughs.

“What bullshit.”

“Time to shine, Takasugi,” He answers with a shrug and a smile and only gets an annoyed frown in return.

–

Gintoki marks another pause in the flashback, stretching his limbs. An office job isn’t good for his back. He’s getting old dammit.

Now the audience probably has multiple theories. After all, there’s plenty to choose from. Was it Matsudaira? Kondo? Kijima? What was the spark that caused the explosion? 

We will see next time.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Takasugi is late. Which is highly unusual, so Gintoki decides to roam the building and investigate. Takechi says he saw him at the coffee machine at eight o’clock, Kijima furrows her eyebrows and says she doesn’t know anything, Kondo arrives at a quarter to nine and blinks owlishly when Kijima asks if he’s seen Takasugi on the way.

Gintoki moves down one floor to Hasegawa's office and goes in without knocking, lounging on his second chair.

“Oh, hello Gin-san… Can I help you with anything?” The man asks, pausing in his typing while he adjusts his glasses.

“No, I've got a free period, Takasugi didn’t show up. I decided I should finally do what I'm really here to do,” He announces and bends forward, elbows on his knees and trying to sound as serious as he can. “So tell me, old man. How are you really? Tell Gin-san everything.”

Hasegawa laughs, shaking his head and fully turning to him, completely abandoning his previous work.

“Oh, no, everyone has been… nice. Or, well, they all mostly ignore me. Which is fine! I’m new, after all, I have to prove myself.”

“Do you feel unjustly pressured?”

“No! Not at all, it’s not unjust! It’s all up to me, to be good enough.”

“Good enough for what? It’s that woman again, isn’t it?”

Hasegawa sighs.

“This is our worth as men, Gin-san. To be good providers. I will prove to her that I can be up to the task.”

“Yeah, yeah…” He shrugs, looking up at the ceiling.

That is a talking point he has always disliked. Most probably because he, himself, is far from meeting that very sought-after objective of being a man of value. Gintoki has always thought he would rather leave things up to chance and see what happens. He is not one of those typical salary men who thinks ten steps ahead, putting “family and heritage” at the top of the long list of objectives for the future.

“Anyway, I was thinking I should create a monthly ‘happy at work’ poll. Create a company “happiness-o-meter” and display it in the hall. Oh, I could even hold lectures every month or something.”

Hasegawa laughs, hanging his head.

“You’re very confident for a new employee, Gin-san… I’m envious.”

“Remember what we learned about that, old man?”

“Yes,” He nods, smiling. “Be yourself, follow your heart, and make good use of your best assets.”

“Right! A hundred points for you. Come on, let’s take a break,” He says and stands up.

Hasegawa follows his movement with his eyes, his eyebrows shooting up in worry.

“A break…? But I– it’s only half past nine.”

“Yeah, but you’re a smoker. You need your morning cigarette, come on.” 

Gintoki leaves his friend's office and Hasegawa sputters before he also stands up and follows. He makes a mental note that this “leave their office to make them follow” tactic is particularly effective no matter who he uses it against. Hasegawa tries to quietly dissuade him the entire way until they leave the building and he finally gives up.

“See,” Gintoki says, observing the hall from outside. “Right in the centre, hanging from the ceiling: “happiness level of the month”. Wouldn’t it be great? Everyone will apply here if we advertise it.”

“Yes, maybe…”

“But the happiness-o-meter will have to be high… Maybe we should start with the lectures, and then we’ll advertise.”

“Maybe…”

Gintoki turns to his friend, taking in his appearance. Wrinkled tie and eye bags, his hair flattened on one side.

“Stop stressing out so much. You know what to do, you’ve done this before.”

“Yes… But I got fired last time. And I've just been assigned a project team… with, um. Well. Takasugi-san is in it.”

“Ohh…” Gintoki drags out the sound, realising the implied admission. “You’re worried he’ll challenge you? Pfft, come on. You’re his friend, he won’t do that.”

“I’m not sure… Judging from what he’s said all the times we drank at your place, he’s not very– tolerant of failure, or incompetence. I'm worried I won't meet those high criterias, and he’s not afraid of overthrowing those who disappoint him…”

Gintoki resists the urge to grin and agree that Takasugi is indeed one of a kind and should not be underestimated. Instead, he clears his throat and answers:

“Hey, don’t worry about that. You know him, so you know he’s good at what he does. Takasugi is fine with people who trust in his skills.”

“I suppose…”

“Yeah, trust me. Just don't yell orders at him and it will be fine.”

Hasegawa only nods and silence falls between them. Gintoki notes that the other man fortunately didn’t take out a cigarette like he suggested. He would have hated to be the cause of polluting his own air.

They stand in the smoking area for a few silent minutes, the summer breeze a welcome addition in the humid air. Gintoki takes his time observing their building, wondering how they could redecorate to make it more welcoming and attract intrepid souls. Something modern yet daring. Those glassy walls are just dreadful, screaming “boring office life” from a mile away. 

It is while Gintoki is busy scrutinising the walls in question that something catches his eye in the reflection. He whips around in one motion, making Hasegawa jump.

“Oh– what is—”

“Shhh!” Gintoki hisses and grabs his arm, dragging him back inside.

Once safely back into the building, Gintoki glues himself to the glass, staring out at the street. Hasegawa joins him, hesitantly standing next to him.

“What is it, Gin-san?”

His eyes did not deceive him. Right there, on the opposite street, is one Katsura Koutarou. Walking. With a woman. Who, Gintoki could swear it, was holding his hand just a minute ago when he spotted them. But now they are not, anymore. Just walking and chatting. He squints his eyes at them.

“Hey, Madao. Do these two look like they’re in love to you?”

“Uhm… w-who? The two women…?”

“Okay, I know the hair is misleading, but that's a man.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. Now that you say it…”

“Yeah. So?”

“Well, a man and a woman walking in the street close together like this usually means… love, yes.”

Gintoki stays silent, staring at the pair until they leave his field of vision.

–

It bothers him.

Okay, it’s none of his business, but still. It bothers him. Takasugi and Katsura’s relationship status has always been a chaotic mess of nonsense. He first thought they were an item when he approached them in high school. Then doubted himself when Takasugi kept denying it. But he could never be sure. Maybe they weren’t a thing yet but on their way to be. Takasugi was a particularly stubborn little shit back then. And now they live together with no significant other in sight. Yet everything is exactly the same as it was, Takasugi still says they’re not together and Katsura might be dating a woman on top of it all. 

Is he cheating? Or has he been hiding a girlfriend this entire time? Maybe they have one of those open relationships where they all share STDs so they don’t care who dates who. Or maybe they’re just roommates sworn to celibacy. Gintoki can’t imagine Takasugi allowing Katsura to invite a girlfriend over when he would get prickly even over Hasegawa spending a night on the sofa.

All in all, there is mostly one question running over and over in his head:

Does Takasugi know?

He squints his eyes at the light on his ceiling, displeased. Takasugi didn’t show up at lunch, and Gintoki still doesn’t know where he is despite sending him two texts today. One at half past eight which reads “ where are you ” and the second at one o’clock consisting of repeated question marks.

Did he see Katsura and the mysterious lady? Is he locked in a toilet stall feeling depressed right now? 

Damn, if they are a thing then this would be a horrible breakup. But maybe they’re really not a thing. But then where is Takasugi and why isn’t he answering? Maybe he should take a page out of Takasugi’s book and play it smart and sneaky. He wiggles on his desk chair and extracts his phone from his pocket, scrolling until he gets to Katsura’s number.

zura, your beloved takasugis missing. any idea why

He waits, rolls back and forth, reviews all the notes Takasugi forced him to take on laws and their collective bargaining agreement. All terribly boring stuff he would have been fine never knowing. He ends up rolling his chair to the glass window separating his office from the open space and spies on the others through the blinds. Takechi is watching anime again, and not even the good kind of anime. His phone pings and he hurriedly rolls back to his desk.

Missing? He did not get to work this morning? Strange… He left at the usual hour. Have you tried calling him? 

He pouts at the normalcy of the answer. Katsura doesn’t seem to think he could be guilty of anything. Or maybe he’s pretending. 

someone saw him this morning but not until then. maybe hes crying in the toilet because he discovered something terrible

Zura

Cry? Takasugi? No, unlikely. If he’s not missing, then please don’t bother me anymore today. I’m busy.

“Oh, ‘busy’, are we? I know the truth, Zura, you sneaky pervert,” Gintoki mumbles to himself while typing a dramatic answer.

He gets interrupted when his phone pings again and a text notification pops up, Takasugi’s name at the top.

I’ll be there in 10 minutes. 

Gintoki straightens up in his chair, now a lot more focused.

where were you??

Hikusugi 

Summoned and then invited to lunch. To “chat”. With the big boss.

Me

climbing up the social ladder are we

Hikusugi

I want to murder him.

Me

haha! dont end up in prison ill miss your grumpy face

Hikusugi

I want to murder you.

Me

what!! why???

Hikusugi 

I’ll be there in 5 minutes.

Slouching back in his desk chair, Gintoki lazily types back:

sure lets debrief this stressful encounter

Takasugi doesn’t answer, which isn’t surprising at all. Gintoki can perfectly picture him rolling his eyes and shoving his phone in his pocket, deeming his text unworthy of the effort it would take to type something back. Except ‘stupid’, that would be an appropriate answer for Takasugi. Worth the effort. 

Three minutes later, the door of his office is pushed open. Takasugi enters with a displeased frown on his face, closing the door behind him.

“Hi,” He greets him moodily.

Gintoki laughs under his breath.

“Woah, what did he tell you? You’re ready to blow up.”

“Nothing, just bullshit intimidation tactics,” He answers and grabs the back of the second chair in the room. “We’ve lost time because of this, let’s go over everything again.”

“No, no, wait,” Gintoki insists and stops him when Takasugi reaches for the screen to turn it towards him. “Hey it’s my job to deal with ‘bullshit intimidation’ from the hierarchy, isn’t it?” 

“On paper. Seriously, you’ve never had an office job before you have no idea how any of this works. HR just sticks to their administrative duties and does whatever the boss tells them to.”

“Until some Takasugi guy decides to turn the entire company against them.”

The guy in question sends him a dirty look before answering:

“Until the entire company gets fired and the cycle starts again.”

“Until they hire a new guy who decides to take employees’ well-being seriously.”

“Until the new guy gets fired for challenging the hierarchy.”

“Which isn't happening,” Gintoki says smugly, lifting his eyebrows and lounging comfortably in his chair. “You’re not the only one who can play a few mind games.”

Takasugi laughs, which is frankly insulting. Gintoki frowns and insists that he can definitely fool people. 

“You’re as subtle as a brick,” Takasugi says to that and Gintoki huffs.

“I’ve never tried to fool you, that’s why. You’ve never witnessed my power.”

“Sure. If you’re still here in a month, I'll admit I was wrong.”

“Alright,” Gintoki agrees haughtily. “You’re on.”

–

The next day, it is his turn to be summoned to Matsudaira’s office. Takasugi refuses to wish him good luck, as if that would skew the bet in his favour. 

“Sakata-san!” The man greets him loudly from behind his huge desk, cigar in hand. “Come in. I’ve been eager to have a proper chat with you.”

Gintoki smiles and bows, confident in his ability to feign politeness.

“Good morning, sir. What is it you require from me?”

Matsudaira laughs, waving a hand in the air.

“No formality with me, my boy. You and I will work closely together, after all.”

“Oh, yeah. Alright,” He says and straightens up.

Matsudaira’s face closes and he stares at his from over his sunglasses.

“No formality doesn’t mean disrespect.”

Gintoki marks a pause, blinking. Alright. Maybe Takasugi is indeed better at this than he is. He decides to switch back to polite speech.

“Apologies sir.”

Matsudaira then laughs loudly, slapping his thigh.

“No formality I said! Ahh, youth. Come, come, sit down.”

Gintoki walks to the chair opposite, already getting annoyed. Formalities or no formalities, then?! 

“What did you want to talk about?” He asks as he sits.

Subtlety has never been his forte, anyway. It is time to bring out the Gintoki-style mind games he knows so well, no use trying to come close to Takasugi's own intricate strategies. Matsudaira sends him another long, silent look. Gintoki holds his gaze and raises his eyebrows. The man grins widely in response.

“You have some backbone… Finally. I’m tired of all those spineless sacks shouldering me. Resigning at the first sign of trouble, pfft. You,” He points at him then, cigar still clutched between his index and middle finger. “You have what it takes to go far. I can tell.”

“Well, you don't build a skyscraper on wobbly foundations.”

Matsudaira nods, laughing again.

“Exactly, exactly. This is why I scrap everything once in a while, when I can see it’s going nowhere. But I have hope this time, I think I caught some big fishes.”

“Like me?” Gintoki smirks.

“Haha! Confidence is good, but don’t slip down the arrogance slope, boy. Listen, big fishes are great news, but they are useless if they get eaten by a shark.”

Matsudaira looks at him with insistence and Gintoki twists his mouth. He definitely caught the drift.

“Eh, no need to worry if you keep your fishes in a pond.”

“We’re not in a pond, Sakata. We’re an ocean. We expand, on and on, until the eyes can’t follow. I do have a duty to protect my fishes, and I'll do it by cleaning the waters.”

“Didn't you already do that?”

“Indeed,” Matsudaira says smugly and leans back on his chair, head hitting his comfy headrest. “A shark is still a fish after all, and it does have its uses. It just needs to be monitored more closely than the others.”

“And that’s where I come in,” Gintoki guesses effortlessly as Matsudaira gives him a wide toothy grin.

“That's where you come in,” He confirms and puts his cigar in his mouth. It's not even lit. What a poser. “I'm sure you understand.”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good. I'm glad we're on the same page, Sakata-san. It would have been a shame to part so early because of an incompatibility.”

“It sure would have. I didn’t even get my first salary yet.”

Matsudaira laughs, loud and open-mouthed as he holds his cigar to the side. 

“Money isn't everything! Look at me, passion is what keeps me alive. But I understand, boy, I understand. Keep me updated on everything, and we'll stay on good terms. You can go,” He ends and waves his other hand dismissively. 

Gintoki says nothing and turns around, forgoing politeness entirely. What a weird man. If his goal is to scare him, he's not feeling scared at all. He grabs the handle of the door to leave and Matsudaira stops him right before:

“Oh, and, Sakata-san.”

“Huh?”

“I'm aware of your fondness for sharks. I trust you to do your job right despite it.”

Gintoki’s brain stops for a second, suddenly flooded with thoughts of what Kijima thinks, of what Sacchan thinks, of what Takasugi suggested they don’t deny because it would complicate things. How could it have made it to Matsudaira's ears?! Does he mean platonic fondness? Something else? Fond how ?

Don’t screw this up, he tells himself firmly.

If he screws this up, Takasugi could possibly hate him forever. But speaking of, what did Matsudaira say to Takasugi? What did Takasugi answer? 

Damn. He’s totally being played.

He turns and shrugs, deciding to feign confidence to the bitter end.

“Eh, dolphins are friendlier.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” The man says and smiles. “I was worried a promising man like you would have trouble separating work from private life.”

“Oh, no,” He agrees effortlessly. “I'm totally merciless. Strategic and calculating. Work takes priority.”

He's describing Takasugi, isn't he? Funny how he truly is Matsudaira's dream employee. If he weren’t so adverse to authority he would have been this old man's favourite servant. What a scary thought.

“Right, if that's the case” Matsudaira starts to say and the winning smirk slowly taking shape on his features spells bad news. “Might I suggest playing a little dirty? You know him well, after all. You must know what works on him.”

Gintoki blinks. This is where Matsudaira wanted to take him from the start, isn’t it? Make him promise he can and will manipulate Takasugi into being docile. 

“I'll take your suggestion into consideration,” He says flatly and bows his head, ready to leave.

“Is it asking too much of you?” Matsudaira taunts and Gintoki grits his teeth.

Damn. How in the world did Takasugi manage to keep his temper in check for an entire morning with this guy? No wonder he came back with that murderous aura floating around him.

“No,” He answers calmly. “I'll do things my way.”

“We'll see,” Matsudaira grins widely, putting his cigar in his mouth. “I can’t wait to see the results.”

Fifteen minutes later, he is back in his own office, Takasugi sitting in front of him and glaring at him.

“I thought he would keep you longer than this. Did he just fire you?”

Gintoki shrugs, rolling half-circles on his desk chair.

“Nah. We discussed management strategies, and we agreed on everything so it was very quick. See, I'm allowed to do as I please, like I said,” He answers nonchalantly.

Takasugi scoffs.

“There is no way. He pressured you hard, like he does everyone. Somehow you’re still here though. Beginner’s luck, I guess.”

“What did he pressure you on?” Gintoki asks, curiosity getting the better of him. “Or did it backfire and did you press all of his buttons?”

“It was bullshit, I told you,” Takasugi dismisses again. “He implied I’m overstepping with a smile on his damn face. For hours on end.”

“Uh-huh. And he didn’t, say, imply you had some… relations that could help you get ahead or something?”

Takasugi frowns and stays silent, observing him. Which, in Gintoki’s book, means he is thinking and connecting dots and any moment now, he will—

“Did he imply you would treat me unfairly? Favour me?”

Yep, bingo. He can always count on that dumb brain to understand everything super fast.

“Don't worry, I said I'll be totally impartial despite our incredible closeness.”

“It’s because I call you by your first name,” Takasugi groans under his breath. “Fuck, why didn’t I think of that? That damn rat…”

“Oh!” Gintoki exclaims, eyes widening. “Obviously. That makes more sense than Kijima running her mouth about us.”

“Of course, she wouldn’t—” Takasugi stops himself in the middle of his thought and his face becomes more somber and murderous the more time passes. “This is what you thought? Don’t tell me you acted accordingly.”

Gintoki sighs and rolls his eyes.

“You have no faith in me, I’m seriously offended. I handled everything like a pro, don't worry.”

“Oh, great,” Takasugi answers sarcastically. “Mr Happiness has everything under control with his bullshit equations, am I supposed to find that reassuring? It’s just getting worse and worse. First Kijima, now Matsudaira. Are you going to make everyone here think we’re— what, even?”

“Who cares what people think,” Gintoki says with a shrug. “In the world of ‘juicy rumours’, ‘office romance’ is pretty low on the chart. Most couples form in the workplace, it’s not unheard of.”

Takasugi stays silent for a while longer this time. Which, in Gintoki’s book, means he is far past thinking and deducting and entering fully into anger and holding back violent impulses.

“What are you saying exactly?” He asks in an aggressive whisper.

Gintoki sighs, dramatically lifting his eyes to the ceiling.

“Relax, you’re making a big deal out of this when it’s not. The big boss just said some vague stuff and I handled it just fine.”

“What? What vague stuff and what constitutes ‘handling it just fine’ exactly?!” Takasugi adds, voice rising.

“I shouldn’t have told you about this. He said we’re close, I said not that much. Okay? Stop freaking out.”

“And I said I don't trust you and your solutions.”

“Yep, okay, I really should’ve just kept my mouth shut, then,” He answers childishly. “That way I would’ve been able to mind my business without your disapproving glare over my shoulder.”

“How is this not also my business?” Takasugi asks, voice lowering this time. “Some people think we’re an item, others think that I'll get promoted thanks to you! While we’re just—”

He doesn’t finish, opting instead to glare in silence. Gintoki tilts his head to the side, feigning indifference to hide the irritation bubbling up in his chest.

“We’re just what?”

He is curious to know what Takasugi will say. Gintoki has struggled for a while, trying to understand how Takasugi views their interactions. Is he just a pest to him? Or does he still get some satisfaction out of their exchanges? 

“Just colleagues,” He answers flatly.

Gintoki snorts.

“Sure.”

“What’s with that answer? Were you hoping for a different response?” Takasugi asks aggressively yet again, angry eyes staring at the wall.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gintoki replies with a roll of his eyes. “We spent months living together and having fun but I guess none of that happened. We actually just met a week ago, when I got hired here. Hi colleague. I’m Sakata Gintoki, nice to meet you.”

“So what would you say? You'd call me your friend?”

“No, I would call you insufferable and a pain in the ass.”

“Right, so that’s settled then. Colleague.”

“Oh, come on!” Gintoki groans in annoyance and throws his hands up in the air. “ Yes, Takasugi, I would call you my friend. Does that even need to be said?”

“Apparently not, if even a shithead like Matsudaira thinks we’re close enough to use me against you,” Takasugi grumbles, still staring hard at the wall.

“Nah, I don’t care one bit what kinda threat he throws my way. I’ll add two zeros to your salary if I want to, no one will stop me.”

“No, what the hell…” Takasugi protests, finally meeting his eyes. To glare at him, but still.

“Oh yes. Then you’ll have no excuse not to treat me to lunch every day, it’ll only be fair.”

“I’d like to think you’re not stupid enough to actually do that but I don’t have much trust in your level of intelligence.”

Gintoki grins, pleased to be able to ruffle his feathers a little.

“Yep, look at that. You have no choice but to trust the idiot. Who knew!”

“Right…” Takasugi says quietly, frowning at him. 

“Only wise words and ideas come out of that head, you should know it by now.”

“Your definition of ‘wise’ is exactly why I'm worried.”

Gintoki sighs, crossing his arms.

“Takasugi. For real. I won’t screw this up for you, I swear.”

“Really? You swear?”

“Really,” He confirms, trying his best to convey his seriousness.

Takasugi surveys him in silence and Gintoki holds his gaze, resisting the urge to laugh or break eye contact. This moment is important, he knows. Takasugi takes things like working life far more seriously than he does, it is up to him to convince him that he is reliable. Eventually, Takasugi sighs through his nose and lowers his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll trust you to navigate this… mess.”

“Thank you!” He breathes in an exaggerated outburst.

Takasugi still eyes him cautiously and spends the rest of the day quizzing him mercilessly on everything he has taught him. When five o’clock hits, Gintoki is proud to have most of it perfectly memorised and to witness Takasugi’s calm, underhanded praise in the form of a quiet ‘finally, I thought you’d never get it ’.

–

Gintoki yawns, staring at the time. It’s already nine o’clock, this flashback has been going on for a while. And the mystery still isn’t resolved! What was that, cooperation? A successful resolution of conflict? What then? The audience must be yelling in indignation, asking for their ticket to be reimbursed. They were expecting a fight, and it’s just not coming. What a scam.

They’d be right to throw in the towel, stop the reading and sue the author. But that’s exactly when it’s the right time to reward their patience then.

For the imaginary audience, Gintoki promises he will get to the heart of the matter next time. For now, he will go to sleep and mull over the unfairness of the world when Hasegawa has a wife who loves him, Katsura gets to live with Takasugi, and Sakamoto enjoys a life of travelling with his – probably – girlfriend while he works next to a lousy team of losers and Takasugi won’t talk to him.

Chapter Text

Gintoki wakes up this morning feeling groggy, grumpy, and cheated by the world. In fact, he was groggy, grumpy, and feeling cheated when he fell asleep. So an entire night passed, yet nothing went away. It’s like when you decide to nap to get rid of a headache but you wake up twenty minutes later feeling worse. 

He has a flashback to get back to. Explain exactly how it came to this. But he’s not in the mood to reminisce anymore today. Today he needs the strongest coffee their machine can brew, a dose of happiness in the form of this week’s JUMP, and a distraction.

A distraction from what everyone and their mother like to remind him of: Takasugi isn’t speaking to him. There. Yes. Okay. He’s acknowledged it. No more ‘maybe’, no more ‘just a little’, no more ‘it’s temporary’. Takasugi decided to stop speaking to him a week ago. And since Takasugi never does things by half, he’s not speaking to him at all. And yes, okay, maybe it affects him more than he would like to admit. Maybe it pisses him off. Maybe it makes him sad, too. Maybe he’s moody and depressed because of this. Maybe.

It is half past seven in the morning and his distraction comes barreling into his office, slamming his door open.

“I knew it!” The security guy yells when he finds him sprawled on his futon and rolled into his sleeping bag. “I knew you slept here, HR guy! It’s forbidden, bastard!”

Gintoki groans, bringing an arm over his eyes to shield him from the world. And from this dumb guard dog.

“Shut up…”

“What did you say?! Get up! This isn’t a homeless shelter!”

“It’s too early to yell in my ear, go bark at someone else…”

“I said get up.”

“It’s Saturday, what the hell are you doing here, don’t you have a life?”

“Okay, that’s it.”

Gintoki lifts his arm just to watch the other man angrily push a chair out of the way to get behind the desk where he was peacefully sleeping. Alarmed, he slowly sits up on his futon as the security guy almost trips on his feet while getting to him. What was his name again? Something-kara? Hoshi-something? Damn, he would do well to remember now, if only to appease the man now angrily grabbing his futon with both hands.

“Okay okay stop— let’s talk about this,” He tries, clinging onto his sheet as his futon gets yanked.

“There’s nothing to talk about, HR,” The man answers, breathing hard and preparing to yank on the futon once more. “Living in the office is illegal.”

“Actually!” Gintoki exclaims, planting a foot on the ground to try to resist. “It’s not.”

Bless Takasugi and his strict teachings, forcing him to memorise laws upon laws and collective bargaining agreements and company rules and regulations. He can definitely corner Something-taka Something-toshi—

Oh, yeah, ‘Toshirou’, that was it. What was the surname? Hachi–...?

Hachi-baka stops pulling and stares at him with a deep frown drawing a clear line between his eyebrows.

“Yes. It is.”

“Nope. Paragraph four of the charter of good conduct: ‘employees are encouraged to embody the principles of professional camaraderie and mutual respect. Recognizing the potential for inventive approaches to work-life balance, where the boundaries between professional and personal realms may naturally blur, fosters an environment where commitment seamlessly extends beyond standard office hours. The dedication to such ideals is emblematic of our collective commitment to surpassing conventional expectations in service to our shared mission, acknowledging that exceptional circumstances may call for extraordinary measures.’”

The man turns green and Gintoki grins in triumph. When he asked Takasugi what kind of bullshit this was trying to say, he answered that it was an insurance against any employee who might complain about unpaid overtime and having no family life. There is no greater dedication to your work than sleeping at the office and Hachi-baka can’t deny it.

“Your— what are your ‘exceptional circumstances’, then?!” Is all he has to say in protest.

Gintoki nonchalantly rests his weight on his hand, cocking his head to the side. He has totally won that fight. He sends a mental thanks and a love note to his internal Takasugi. Internal-Takasugi scoffs and tears the love note in tiny pieces. Oh well. His internal Takasugi has always been a huge bastard anyway.

“Are you stupid? Didn’t you notice the company is mass hiring right now because everyone got fired? Sheesh. I’m the only guy in HR right now, I got tons of work. Now shoo, stop bothering me.”

“You don’t look busy.”

“At six o’clock on a Saturday?! I was getting my much needed rest before you rudely interrupted me.”

“It’s not six, it’s almost eight!”

“Office hours are nine to five!”

“No, it’s half past eight to five, lazy bastard. Stop screwing with me, if you’re really here to work, then get to work!”

The man then retreats, picks up the chair he threw to the ground in his haste to make him leave, and sits on it. Arms crossed like a military man. Gintoki stares at him, unimpressed.

“Woah, what if I sleep in my underwear? You wanna watch me change like a creep?”

“What?! There are seven bathrooms in this building! You have exactly forty-three minutes to get ready, HR. At half past eight, you better be behind your desk, doing your job.”

“What is this, a dictatorship? I’ll have you know that you can’t threaten a fellow employee. I can get you fired for that!” He exclaims while standing up, stretching his arms above his head.

“Are you joking?! I work security, and you’re trespassing! Threats are entirely in order!”

“We’ve established I have every right to be here. Pretty sure Matsudaira-san would approve of this level of dedication. Which we share, since you're also here,” He ends slyly, raising his eyebrows at the other man.

Who is completely immune to it, his face remaining every bit as serious and unamused.

“Then get to work.”

Gintoki sighs, raising his eyes to the ceiling and resigning himself to his fate.

–

“So. Hijikata-kun. Is anything bothering you?”

“Be quiet.”

“I mean, you do realise this is my job, right? It’s important to check in with the employees regularly.”

“I am going to silence you permanently if you don’t shut up.”

“You sound stressed. Are you having trouble with your work? Your colleagues? Managers?”

“I am having trouble with you, permhead. You’re clearly not doing any work whatsoever.”

“Your vision of ‘working’ is narrow, would you be satisfied if I just endlessly typed nonsense on my keyboard? My job is dynamic and multifaceted. So tell me, you’re a new guy, right? A friend of Kondo’s? How does that work for you?”

“What?” Hijikata asks, furrowing his eyebrows even more. His arms are still tightly crossed while sitting on the chair opposite him, glaring. “Why would it be a problem? And stop trying to distract me from the fact you’re not working. I’ll report it to Matsudaira-san.”

“Hey, I totally agree. Having friends in the workplace is great. But some people don't see it that way, so I wondered if you’ve heard some… remarks. That could dampen your mood.”

Hijikata scoffs and Gintoki scoots forward, attention focused.

“As if. I don’t care if some nobodies think Kondo-san pulled strings for me. It’s not like I'd let him trespass in exchange.” 

He punctuates his sentence with a pointed glare directed at Gintoki, who smiles and shrugs.

“Right, no special treatment allowed. That goes without saying. But still, you’ve only been here for a few weeks and you’re already experiencing bad mouthing from other employees. That’s a serious matter, you know. The kind of things you’re supposed to report to HR,” He says and taps his own chest a few times, a grin on his face.

“Nobody bad-mouthed me, it was a hypothetical! What are you trying to do, turn us all against each other?”

“Woah, hey,” Gintoki chuckles. “We’re supposed to foster an atmosphere of unity and camaraderie, didn't you read the charter? I'm glad no one is harassing you but we should stay vigilant and look out for harmful rumours.”

“You won't foster unity by starting a witch hunt,” Hijikata says in a deadpan voice.

“What witch hunt? I'm just asking if you've heard some things that should get reported.”

“I wouldn’t rat out some idiots over stupidities like that, I told you! And what about you, anyway?! Didn't that Takasugi guy pull strings for you? Is that why you’re so intent on squashing all gossip?”

Gintoki laughs snidely, sending his interlocutor a mocking look.

“Who, Takasugi? Do something for me? Are you blind or something, he totally hates my guts. No, actually, it was my good friend Hasegawa who recommended me!”

“Right, as if. Who else but that disruptive black sheep to sneak in a guy who’ll cause trouble like you?”

Gintoki sighs loudly, slouching in his chair. He gives up. Everyone is hell-bent on ruining his life.

“Why are you all saying that!” He exclaims to the ceiling. No one understands his plight but the heavens. “I’m not causing trouble, my intentions are pure! And Takasugi has nothing to do with it anyway! Why is it so unbelievable to all of you, that an unassuming guy like Madao got me in, huh?! That’s discriminatory! It’s illegal! He’s a respectable man, okay?!”

“Look at you, getting all agitated,” Hijikata taunts with a triumphant smile and Gintoki immediately clamps his mouth shut and glares at him. “You’re mad that we’re onto you two despite your futile attempts to pretend you don't know each other.”

“No, I'm mad because how can so many people be so stupid at the same time? The midget decides to rebel once and suddenly everyone is paranoid. Are you all really that scared of him? Come on.”

Gintoki crosses his arms and looks away, annoyed. It is horrifying how fast words travel and how difficult it is to change someone’s mind when the truth is a lot less exciting than the lie. Since most people weren’t even there to witness the ‘great rebellion’ Takasugi instigated, the stories get wilder and more improbable each day. People eat it up like it’s strawberry milk. 

“Yes, he’s not to be taken lightly,” Hijikata answers seriously and Gintoki rolls his eyes. “Matsudaira-san should have fired him a long time ago, I don't understand why he still keeps him around. But I won’t let him disrupt the peace anymore. And that includes watching you, too.”

“You all speak like he’s some great evil while he’s just one guy.”

“One dangerous guy.”

“One stupid guy.”

“One guy with stupidly dangerous ideas.”

“Ohh, how scary! Freedom of speech in the office? Employee rights? Waaaah, mommy!” Gintoki cries mockingly.

Hijikata answers that with a slap of his hand on the desk.

“I knew you were an accomplice!!”

“Oh my god shut up!!”

—

i got kicked out of the building and now i have nowhere to go and its your fault

–

Gintoki sips his vanilla milkshake morosely, looking out the window. People are milling about down on the street, and today is a shit day all around. Not even iced vanilla can cheer him up. He escaped to a standard café in the heart of Shinjuku when the guard dog at the office pissed him off too much. By now, Hijikata has probably made sure that the front doors are barred and locked so that Gintoki won’t be able to sneak back in to sleep.

What a bastard.

As usual, Takasugi is ignoring his texts. It’s not like it bothers him or anything. Really. Who cares? It doesn’t matter. And it’s not like he’s really trying to make him answer. If he wanted to, he could make Takasugi answer. He knows him by heart. He can push his buttons. He just chooses not to. But damn, he is slowly growing irritated and lonely. He needs company.

yo madao are you free right now

hey zura come pick me up im drunk

hedoro-saaaan what are you doing right now want to grab a drink with me

hey takatin heyy whats up

old bat im sorry for the rent i mean it i promise i can pay now please can i get my apartment back

yo doromizu are you in town

He pauses in his list of contacts, blinking slowly at the name staring back at him. He hasn’t spoken to Tsukuyo in ages. Now certainly is not the time. What was it she wanted to do, psychology? Med school? Something like that. He wonders if she succeeded. Last he heard — which was over five years ago — she was working part-time at some seedy bar. He could use a seedy bar right now. Just drink until his head slams onto the table. It isn’t even noon yet, it’s not the time for a seedy bar.

Better harass Takasugi instead.

takasugi-san ಥ⁠_⁠ಥ

hijibaka grilled me about you you know what did you do to him he totally hates you

everyone thinks youre some superpowered supervillain they’re all impressed by you you should be happy

And, miraculously, his phone pings and vibrates in his hand while he is in the middle of typing another message. Eyes glued to his screen, Gintoki lets out an uncontrolled sound of amazed surprise.

The security guy? What did he ask about?

Gintoki grins slowly, his heart feeling lighter yet bigger as it beats strongly in his chest. How ridiculous. One week of the cold shoulder treatment and one lousy message and bam . Heart palpitations. Utterly stupid.

he asked what everyone is secretly wondering you know are we plotting together to take over the world

He waits impatiently for an answer, but nothing comes. Instead, Hasegawa sends him a text to let him know he is indeed free and they can go gamble or get lunch if he wants. Gintoki finishes his vanilla shake in one go and quickly types an affirmative.

He definitely needs a distraction.

What happens is that, ten hours later, he is sprawled on some seedy bar’s counter with Hasegawa hiccuping and giggling next to him and he isn’t distracted at all.

“He’s sooo mad at me…” Gintoki laments, face stuck to the wood.

Hasegawa pats his shoulder, his eyes glassy and looking two seconds away from blacking out.

"There… there…"

"I think…!" He exclaims, tries to lift himself, and falls back down head first onto the counter. "I think… I think he thinks…uhh…"

"It's alright, Gin-san… Hatsu is mad at me, too…"

"What. What d'you do this time…" He mumbles against the wood and sniffs it. It smells like soup and beer.

"I came home drunk…"

Gintoki laughs out loud, hitting his palm on the counter multiple times. 

"Hah! Haha, see, that's why having a wife sucks biiig time!" He lifts his head, staring at his drinking companion with a smug smile. "R'member every time we got drunk at my place? Takasugi neeever got mad."

"No, Hatsu… is normal. Gin-san, you're just lucky…" Hasegawa says quietly and tips his head back, finishing his last beer.

"Bah!" He denies, turning his head the other way and painfully rubbing his nose against the wood in the process. "Nah, no luck at all…"

"Yes. Luck… because… Love’s like that."

"Mmmhhhnnoo."

"Yes…"

"Noooooo."

"Y—es."

"Oi… don't throw up."

Hasegawa's eyes close and in under two seconds he is out like a light, his head loudly slamming against the counter. Gintoki groans.

"Nooo, damn… old man. Wake uup," He complains and grabs the other man's hair, pulling and pushing. "Night’s still young… Come oooonn."

“Gin-san I don’t feel very good…”

“Uh-oh. Okay, okay, quick! Come on!”

Gintoki drags him towards the bathroom, bumping into dozens of other men on the way and loudly apologising and urging everyone to get out of the way. They come barreling into the bathroom leaning heavily onto each other, and Gintoki still has enough sense to feel his companion heave. He holds his breath and runs towards a toilet stall, pushing it open and Hasegawa throws up on his shoes ten centimetres away from the toilet bowl.  Gintoki screams in horror.

“Gin-san, I can’t go home… Hatsu will hate me…” Hasegawa sniffs thirty minutes later, sitting on the ground in a narrow street.

Gintoki is pacing next to him, squinting at his phone screen.

“Why is it so bright, it’s blinding me!! Urghhh, damn technology! I said ‘Za’, stupid! Get me Zura’s number!!”

“Gin-san… I think I've ruined everything…”

“Sa-... Yes… No, not Sacchan! Haha, stupid phone, I'd rather die than call her!”

“Gin-san… Please don’t be like me.”

“Sa, sa-… Where the hell is Zura, why is this so complica— oh. Why is the screen white? Oh! Fuck, who am I calling?”

“Please don’t… don’t ruin things with Takasugi-san…”

“Saka— hey wait a second.”

“Hello?? Kintoki?”

Gintoki turns green, grimacing at the voice on the other end. 

“Heeey, it’s been a whiiiiile, hahahaha! ”

“Tatsuma are you abroad right now?” He asks gravely.

“Yeah! I sent you a postcard, too, did you get it? Hahaha.”

Gintoki curses and fumbles with his phone in his haste to hang up, hang up now, while it hasn’t been a minute yet, while his bank account can still get out unscathed!

“Hey, is everything alr—”

There! Success. Sweet success. Bank account saved. He sighs deeply in relief while Hasegawa is still moping, sitting on the concrete. 

“He really loves you…” He whispers in a sad exhale that ends with a sob. “While she just tolerates me…”

Gintoki’s face twists in a disgruntled grimace at those words.

“You’re so dumb it’s pissing me off. I’m gonna call Zura, ‘kay? Hang on.”

“Who…?”

He ignores him and squints his eyes harder, focusing on the syllables in front of him. Did he register his friend under some boring name like ‘Katsura’? He tries ‘ka’ just to make sure. He scrolls and scrolls until he gets to ‘ki’. Where is Zura, then?!

Screw it. Screw everything.

He chooses ‘hi’ and calls the one person he didn't want to call right now.

“Yes?” The one guy he didn’t want to call answers factually and Gintoki breathes in through his nose, bracing himself.

“Hey. It’s an emergency. Madao is homeless. And so am I. Takasugi if you have a heart—”

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” He answers way too quickly and the humour of the situation catches up to him. Hasegawa perks up, asking if he is calling Takasugi after all. Gintoki waves a hand in dismissal and struggles not to laugh. “No, no, we’re sober. Both. Completely sober, we won't bother you n’ Zura and we won’t snore at all.”

“You sound drunk. You're drunk. I knew I shouldn't have picked up.”

“No!” He denies again and holds back another retort when he hears Katsura’s voice in the background, commenting simply: he’s drunk, he sent me a text. “Oi, what the hell?! You traitor! Where are you hiding in my phone anyway?!”

“Gintoki, just go to the office.”

“Can't… got kicked out, I said. By the guy, y'know, security and stuff…”

“You have the key, idiot.”

“Uh, the front is a digicode… Idiot yourself. Hijibaka pro’ly changed it super fast… ‘cause he hates me, ‘cause he hates you.”

“Changing the code is a long procedure. In all likelihood it’s still the same. Go and try.”

“No. I wanna sleep on your sofa.”

“Gintoki, I swear…”

There is speaking, rustling and static on the other end, making Gintoki grimace. Then it settles and Katsura’s voice comes through, loud and clear:

“Gintoki. Hello.”

“Urgh, Zura. I tried calling you but you’re so sneaky.”

“I will act as Takasugi’s lawyer and spokesperson from now on. You may only contact him through handwritten letters and—”

Katsura gets interrupted by rustling, crashing, and yelling.

“Okay, forget what this idiot said. Just go to the office, punch the fucking code in, and go puke and sleep there. Good night.”

“But wai—” Gintoki protests in a shout. Only the ‘beep’ of a terminated phone call answers him.

He grunts and is very tempted to throw his phone on the ground. Hasegawa sniffs next to him, halting his violent thoughts. He turns and finds the man weeping, staring down with his glasses askew on his face.

“Oi…” He says weakly, tired and too drunk to care for a crying homeless married man. “C’mon now…”

“Gin-san, are we doomed to fail?” 

“Huh?”

“Is life even worth it… if we can't make the person we love happy? If we only make them miserable? What then…?”

“What’re you talking ‘bout… No one’s happiness depends on me, got it? Yeah? And anyway, it’s ‘cause you think you’re supposed to be perfect that things aren’t good with Hatsu! Why don't you just go home and spend time with her? Huh? Watch TV and laugh at the same jokes? Instead of running to me like a coward. You’re pissing me off!”

He straightens up and digs into his pocket, angrily looking for the office key. Hasegawa sobs a little louder.

“Maybe… I am running away, aren’t I? I am such a despicable man…”

“Urghhhh, stop whining!”

They make it to the office supporting each other's weight. Exactly as Takasugi predicted, the door opens when Gintoki enters the very same digicode he used this morning. He complains about it out loudly before stepping inside the building.

Gintoki ends up dragging Hasegawa upstairs with him, struggling and cursing at each step he climbs, dropping him a few dozen times. When he finally makes it to the second floor, he comes face to face with the elevator and feels personally offended by its existence. He wastes a minute pointing at it accusingly and yelling, loudly asking who thought it would be a great idea to paint the doors the same colour as the walls. He leaves Hasegawa on the floor, on the last step of the stairs, and stumbles into the open space where he picks a desk chair at random, lies on it, and falls deeply asleep in less than a minute.

Chapter Text

Gintoki wakes up to the sound of a door being slammed open. He shoots up in his seat as his eyes blink widely open, the world a massive blur of brightness and colour. 

“You,” A deep voice growls and an amalgam of black in the doorway grows closer with the slam of footsteps on carpet. “Damn rule-breaker. How dare you come back here to sleep?!”

“Ugh, not the police…” Gintoki mumbles and shuts his eyes tight, trying to blink the blurriness away.

“I knew you’d come back!” The man yells and Gintoki suddenly feels himself being lifted from his position, pulled by his shirt.

“Woah…” 

He opens his eyes and sees black, beige, and the grey of the carpet looking incredibly inviting. Then his stomach lurches painfully and he brings a hand to his mouth in reflex. Hijikata immediately lets him go and he drops back down on the chair.

“Are you—?! Don’t! Fuck!” 

Gintoki sees the man twist in urgency and seconds later the plastic container of the paper shredder is shoved under his nose. He hugs it and rests his chin on the edge.

“I’m fine,” He says with the energy of a dead man.

“Like hell you are. Get your sick ass out of the building.”

“As I said yesterday… I’m doing overtime.”

“I’m doing overtime, you’re being a nuisance.”

“Huh…” He blinks and stares at the dark plastic of the container.

The alcohol still present in his system decides now is a good idea to have an emotional breakdown. He lowers his head and sniffs into the shredded paper, his nose shuffling the inside with a loud rustling sound. He is a nuisance, after all. This is where he belongs, in the paper shredder. Is Takasugi's personal waste somewhere in there? He might have crashed on Takasugi's desk last night. It wouldn’t surprise him. Destiny is cruel like that. 

“Are you crying?” Hijikata asks with disdain.

“No!!” Gintoki yells back, eyes wet but not crying. “Can't you see?! He’s mad at me, okay?! We’re not plotting together, you dumbass! He hates me because I'm a nuisance! Are you happy?! I’m harmless after all!”

“Yeah, I should’ve known you’re too idiotic to be an accomplice.”

“So which is it, huh? I’m a terrible, terrible rebel or I'm a harmless idiot?” He asks in a deadpan voice.

Hijikata huffs and crosses his arms, staring down at him.

“Both. But your idiocy is definitely not harmless.”

“Yours isn’t either. You're all so dumb, spreading false information. Thinking he's a problem when he’s— just…,” Gintoki scrunches up his nose, trying to choose between all the unflattering adjectives he can think of. It doesn't work all that well when he comes up blank . Screw everything. Why is his own brain working against him?! “Just Takasugi. Short and—... tiny.”

“Can your drunk ass go sober up somewhere else?”

“No. I have nowhere else,” He admits miserably and hugs the shredder container closer.

“Ah, hah. So you are homeless,” Hijikata answers with a triumphant smile, arms crossed and chin up. “You just admitted to trespassing. Dumbass.”

“Yeah, yeah, gloat all you want you bastard. Just leave me with this garbage,” Gintoki says and burrows his nose deeper into the shredded papers. “We understand each other.”

Takasugi threw them both away after all. Just garbage he did not want in his life. Perfectly clear. Understandable. Maybe. How did he know none of those papers will actually be of use to him anyway? Maybe he was hasty in throwing some away. Gintoki straightens up, ignoring Hijikata’s quiet ‘oi’ , and starts rummaging into the container.

“Oi!!” Hijikata yells louder, grabbing his wrist. “What the hell?! Why are you digging into that garbage?!”

“Because we’re kin!” He yells back, struggling against the other’s man grip to keep the torn papers to himself. “Leave us!”

“Start making sense, you drunk idiot!”

Hijikata yanks at his wrist and Gintoki resists, making the chair roll instead of moving his arm. He plants his feet on the ground and pushes hard, rolling back towards the desk and forcing Hijikata to lose his grip. He exclaims ‘a-ha!’ in triumph, just as the chair hits the desk and the impact sends shredded papers all over him. He stops and looks down in silence.

“And now you made a mess of Takechi-san’s desk!” Hijikata accuses, pointing at the papers scattered everywhere. “Are you satisfied? You’ll clean that up, I'll make sure of it.”

Gintoki slowly looks up into Hijikata's eyes, now realising:

“This— Takechi. That’s Takechi’s desk.”

“Yes? Whose desk did you think it was?”

“No one,” He answers quickly, putting down the – now empty – plastic container and quickly standing up. Takechi’s desk, dammit.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hijikata groans and grabs a fistful of his shirt.

Gintoki stares at the other man’s profile, bored, tired, and generally feeling quite dead inside.

“Breakfast?”

“No. You’re cleaning that up, I said.”

“Yes, later. Once I get the needed energy. Come on, let’s go.”

“What? We’re not friends, HR,” Hijikata answers moodily as Gintoki starts walking, forcefully pulling him along.

“No, we’re colleagues, both doing overtime. I say we deserve it.”

Gintoki drags him through the entire building until they reach the exit, complaining and provoking Hijikata at every turn. The man yells at him, counter-argues in vain, and they eventually find themselves outside, still in disagreement. He doesn't wait for another opening and starts running for the hills, making Hijikata sputter some unintelligible insult before stumbling after him, yelling and protesting. 

–

Ten hours later, Gintoki sneaks back into the office building after finally managing to shake off the security pest. They ate, they drank, they even watched a movie together because the dumbass refused to leave him alone. He got lucky when the other man received a call from Kondo and went running as if his life depended on it, yelling an angry don't you dare trespass again as he went. As if. Trespassing is what Gintoki had been waiting to do the entire day. He collapses on his desk chair, sighing loudly at the ceiling. Whose fault is it he doesn’t have a place to live anyway?

Yes, Gintoki is aware he still has a flashback to finish. But he’s not in the mood. Besides, the audience can probably guess what happened now: just people running their mouths and spreading rumours. It’s not like Gintoki actually did something. So it’s pointless to dwell on the details, isn’t it? There are more fun things to do. Like, for example, a Q&A. Everyone loves asking authors questions about their work, like “why is this character such an idiot” or “will this have a happy end”. So let’s open a Q&A, what would the audience like to know? The author will answer.

Except the author disagrees with this and would like Gintoki to hurry it up and cough up his wrongdoings already, because the readers have been waiting for six chapters and a damn high amount of words were read to get literally nowhere. The author feels like she has lost control of this character and thinks he suffers from an avoidant attachment style that clearly works against hi—

Gintoki will get back to the flashback. It’s not like he’s a coward or anything.

—

***

—

After a week of slow adaptation, he starts having real files to take care of. With numbers and percentages. And as much as Gintoki likes to speak scientifically to get his point across to the likes of Takasugi Shinsuke who don’t listen to anything other than pure undeniable truths, he has always sucked big times at maths. Isn't that what accountants are for anyway? Numbers and rows and columns and weird calculus? And they have an accountant in this team.

Kondo enters his office without knocking while Gintoki forwards the files to Takechi. He raises his head, meeting the wide eyes and bright smile of the other man.

“Gin-san!”

“What? Lower your voice.”

“Oh, yes, sorry! We have a meeting with Matsudaira-san in ten minutes to present our project!”

“Uh, okay. So, what are you doing?”

“We don't know yet!”

Gintoki blinks, pausing. Kondo is still smiling as if nothing was wrong with this statement.

“You’re going to see the boss to present… nothing. Just air.”

Kondo laughs and shakes his head.

“It’s fine, I'm sure Matsudaira-san won’t mind and will help us brainstorm!”

While Gintoki couldn’t care less about the big boss’s mind games, Takasugi must be furious by now. Takasugi must be losing his mind with rage. Which is exactly what the rich bastard is aiming for, no doubt. What was it again they’re supposed to do, it’s been two chapters since they’ve talked about it. Ah, right. “The next trendy thing”. Easy peasy. A walk in the park. 

“Hey, wait up, I'll accompany you.”

“Oh! Yes, you could help us brainstorm, too,” Kondo nods with a bright smile.

Ten minutes later, they are all waiting in line in front of Matsudaira’s office. Hasegawa is looking as pale as a corpse and blankly looking out of the window, Kijima is biting her nails and muttering to herself, Kondo is as unbothered and smiley as ever, Takechi is doing origami with post-it notes and Takasugi is standing still with his arms crossed. Gintoki is waiting next to him, hands in his pockets.

“So. D’you have a plan?” He asks casually.

“Apart from telling him to go fuck himself?” Takasugi answers coldly.

“Wow, the old bastard really got you figured out huh. He knows how to put you in check.”

“He’s not putting me in check, he’s just shitting on the board.”

“You can't win if there’s no board.”

“Shut up.”

“Okeydoke, don’t blow a fuse up there.”

“Gintoki. Shut up.”

“Right, right…” He sighs and looks around for anything to distract him.

Takechi has just finished making a tiny rose. Kondo is humming to himself. The corridor is empty and white and there’s not even a plane in the sky.

“Just say some bullshit, really,” He suggests, shrugging his shoulders. 

“I’m not going to support a bullshit project.”

“Why not? People love bullshit. Look at all the mascots we have in this country. All the weird bars and cafes. It’s the weird shit that attracts tourists. Make up some funny mascot and spam it on tourist blogs and bam. Next trendy thing.”

“As if that would ever work.”

Their conversation attracts the others’ attention one by one, Kijima now looking at them with an uncertain frown while Takechi steps forward and addresses Gintoki:

“What would this mascot look like, Sakata-san? For the sake of novelty, we could have a human mascot. Cute girls work very well.”

“You creep,” Kijima intervenes, stepping forward as well. “Only pervy old men like you obsess over cute anime girls! Anyway, Takasugi-san is against the idea, and he’s the project manager.”

“Hey, hahaha… Calm down everyone, let’s wait for Matsudaira-san’s input!” Kondo adds with a nervous smile and Kijima rounds on him immediately.

“You, shut up! He’s not on our side, you stupid gorilla! He almost fired us all!”

“But he didn’t!” Kondo protests and Kijima groans loudly in frustration.

The door opens in a bang and Matsudaira stands there with an unlit cigar between his lips and sunglasses on, slowly surveilling them all. Gintoki quickly glances at Hasegawa, making sure he’s still alive.

“Ah, my dear Kondo. And everyone else. I’m so glad to see you, come on in.”

He steps to the side and motions for them to enter his office. Kondo does so with a loud thank you and a smile, Kijima follows with a bow and a quiet excuse me and Takechi does the same. Gintoki waits and sends Takasugi a quick sly smile to urge him to go first. The other man doesn’t bother to acknowledge that in any way and steps forward, only bowing his head a bit at Matsudaira. Gintoki tries not to laugh and enters right after him, nodding in the same way and adding sorry for intruding. And how is that, for formal-but-not-formal huh? Takasugi is totally underestimating him. He’s way more than capable of playing those bullshit mind games. 

Hasegawa enters last, as if he were the least important person in the room. Gintoki has half a mind to kick him so he’ll straighten up and start acting like the exec he is. He doesn’t. He’s not that much of a sadist. 

They all stand in line like they’re military, Kondo on the far right leaving Gintoki and Hasegawa to take the far left spot next to Takasugi. Matsudaira dumps his weight on his luxurious black chair that creaks at the abuse, sighing loudly.

“Alright, underlings. What do you have for me today?”

“Ah, well we actually—!” Kondo starts to answer like the eager puppy he is but Matsudaira stops him with a raise of a hand.

“Now, now, as much as I appreciate your passion, shouldn’t you let your project manager speak?”

“Oh! Yes, yes. I’m sorry, Sugi-san, go ahead,” Kondo amends and smiles at Takasugi.

Gintoki looks at him. Pretty damn composed compared to a minute ago, back straight and not exuding that murderous aura he could feel from his own office when he heard the news. Maybe he did manage to come up with something in the span of a minute or two. After all, he did get some outrageously good grades out of nowhere once in a while in class, back in the day.

“We are doing market research right now,” He answers simply.

“What for?” 

A short, stilted silence follows. Gintoki hears Takasugi repeat what for under his breath in the most disbelieving tone he has ever heard. 

“To give us direction,” He answers anyway.

“No, I'm tired of all those skittish approaches. Sakata!” He stands up suddenly, moving to stand in front of them.

“Huh?” Gintoki blinks and straightens up despite himself at the older man’s booming voice. “Yes? What?”

“You’re not risk-averse, unlike all those  slackers,” He says and makes a vague gesture that starts at Takasugi and ends at Kijima. “So tell me, what do you have for me today?”

“A funny mascot,” He answers without hesitation. “Actually. It’s not just my idea, all of the ideas are equally cool. But yeah. A human mascot.”

“Interesting… Do you have drafts already?”

“Oh, yeah, Takechi totally—” He glances quickly at the accountant, crossing his gaze and hoping to communicate on a higher level. “—made some origami models.”

The man nods slowly, taking out the crumpled rose from his pocket. It got flattened out and looks like garbage now, so Gintoki laughs and adds quickly:

“Yeah it’s rough for now but, it’s just the arms missing…”

“Oh. Yes,” Takechi says and pulls out two opposite wings from his rose before twisting them. Now it looks like some strange cylinder with noodle arms.

“That’s it, there it is,” Gintoki nods anyway. 

“Interesting,” Matsudaira repeats, staring at the paper monstrosity. “And what do you call it?”

“The,” He says before thinking and lets his mouth move faster than his brain when he utters quickly: “The Justaway.”

“The Justaway, hmm,” Matsudaira twists his head to inspect the origami even closer. “What an interesting concept. You really are something, Sakata. I am glad you can speak for them when they’re too busy beating around the bush,” He nods and straightens up, pushing his sunglasses up on his nose with his middle finger.

Gintoki dares to throw a glance at Takasugi. He hasn’t moved one inch, back still as straight as before. There’s only a subtle tension on his face that spells out clear disdain to him. Oh well. Time to go before he explodes.

“Yeah, yeah, no worries, it’s my job to assist employees,” Gintoki mumbles and Matsudaira nods.

“Well, what their job is isn’t as obvious to some,” The man laughs sharply and goes back to sit on his chair.

“Haha,” Gintoki laughs along flatly, reaching out to touch Takasugi's arm in hope to ground him somewhat. “Yes, yes. Then we’ll be going. So much work to do.”

“Yes, I won’t hold you any longer!”

“Okay. Bye,” He says quickly and goes from lightly touching to urgently grabbing Takasugi's sleeve to pull him out of the room.

He is met with resistance as he expected, so he insists and pulls harder, the other four following quickly after them once they cross the doorway. Gintoki lets go and closes the door, sighing quietly before turning to face his friend. He doesn’t get to speak first however, as Kijima immediately walks up to Takasugi and whisper-yells:

“Who does this bastard think he is?! He barely gave us any time to think about it and keeps throwing bread crumbs at us! And now he has the nerve to insult you?!”

“It’s fine,” Takasugi says and Gintoki is amazed at how quickly he manages to reign in his obvious rage. “I won’t give him the satisfaction of reacting to his childish provocations.”

“Eh, well…” Kondo tries meekly. “He probably wasn’t talking about us, guys, don’t take it personally…”

Kijima throws him what must be the twentieth death glare of the day and Kondo just shuts up and gulps. Hasegawa shuffles shyly towards them and bows at a ninety degree angle, making Kondo yelp in surprise.

“Gin-san, Takasugi-san. Thank you very much for your hard work. I am deeply sorry, I will do better next time.”

“Woah, don’t thank me yet,” Gintoki says and pats his shoulder. “Thank me when Justaway-san takes over Japan.”

“Yes, thanks to you we’re stuck on this bullshit project,” Takasugi mumbles and walks away, quickly followed by Kijima.

Kondo smiles sheepishly and goes after them, Takechi at his heels. Gintoki sighs and pats Hasegawa's shoulder once more. After a quiet and solemn walk back to the open space, Takasugi nudges his arm and says we need to talk before going straight into his office. Gintoki follows, not too happy about the situation.

“He’s using you to get to me,” Takasugi says the moment Gintoki closes the door.

He sighs.

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“Did he say anything else to you since last time? Did you say anything?”

“Man…” Gintoki walks towards his chair and sits. All of these silly games exhaust him. “I told you what I said already. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“You definitely didn’t pretend hard enough. He wouldn’t be pulling this shit if he wasn’t convinced we are close,” Takasugi mumbles to himself, arms crossed and staring at the ground. 

“Like you said, you call me by my first name, it’s easy to guess anyway. It probably got people talking because ‘wah wah it’s unfair he’ll get his friend a raise’ and the old man heard and bam. Punishment.”

“Yes, so I guess I'll start calling you Sakata from now on,” He says with a sour expression as if that very name burned his tongue. “And you better stop acting so friendly.”

Gintoki sighs dramatically, eyes going up to the ceiling.

“Totally unconvincing. For that to work, we’d have to stage a fight. You go ahead and call me Sakata, I mope around and beg for your attention. Spend long moments in the toilets, sobbing. Have Zura come pick you up to add some drama.”

“Shut the fuck up with Zura already.”

“Oh,” Gintoki blinks, a sudden memory resurfacing. He bends forward, lowering his voice to a hissing whisper. “I saw him with a woman the other day.”

Takasugi groans, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, he's started fucking around with married women again,” He answers angrily and fixes Gintoki with another intense glare. “But that’s not what we were talking about.”

“Wait wait wait. What do you mean ‘again’?”

“I know, it comes as a shock to most people. He’s a total fuckboy.”

“What!” Gintoki shrieks, hitting his own desk with both of his palms. “But he— in high school he was so—?! What!”

“Yes,” Takasugi confirms with a smirk, obviously proud of himself for having this bit of knowledge Gintoki doesn't have. 

“No way. Zura is getting more action than me and you combined? Come on.”

“What are you talking about,” He mutters while looking away.

“I lived with you for two months, I know how much action you’re not getting with that cynicism and ‘forever-alone’ attitude,” Gintoki raises his eyebrows, challenging him to contradict that. “I even had to teach you how to flirt. The bar is on the floor.”

Takasugi immediately stares back at him with a winning smirk and Gintoki wonders what is so satisfying about basically being called a virgin.

“So you finally admit it. You did ask me to flirt with a stranger, not ‘charm them into being my friend’ like you tried to bullshit us into believing.”

“This is why you get no action you know, you care more about being right and winning arguments than making a girl smile at you,” Gintoki says flatly, watching as Takasugi's expression slowly morphs back into a frown. Or guy, he thinks of adding but refrains. Damn that thought just scared him, with how close or me was trailing behind it.

“Can we get back to the subject?” He asks moodily and pulls at the other chair in the room, sitting on it with jerky movements.

“Yep, let’s devise a plan to outplay the old bastard,” Gintoki easily agrees.

“It’s very clear cut,” Takasugi continues, contributing to the depressing atmosphere slowly spreading around them. Why can’t things ever be nice and simple anymore, Gintoki has wondered so many times. “We don’t speak to each other anymore. We don’t even acknowledge each other. Let him think his childish plan of turning us against each other is working.”

“That’s just giving him a win,” Gintoki protests with a pout.

“No it isn't. It’s not real, he will only think he won.”

Gintoki laughs shortly, rolling his eyes at Takasugi's stupid logic.

“He wants to break us apart, if you want to annoy him then the best way would be to pretend we’re even closer now.”

He realises what this implies a second too late and closes his mouth with an audible sound, eyes stuck on the ceiling in the middle of his eye roll. Takasugi doesn’t react, a tense silence following his claim. Well, damn. Shoot. Woops. Yep. Maybe shouldn’t have said that. 

“Are you seriously suggesting what I think you’re—” Takasugi starts to ask in a threateningly quiet voice and Gintoki interrupts him before he can reach his maximum level of rage for today.

“No, no, I’m just saying. But eh… if you have some secret acting skills—”

“No.”

“I thought you’d say that.”

“Of course that’s what I'll say. Are you insane? That would get us both fired quicker than the speed of light. That’s exactly why I suggest pretending he’s won, you moron. There’s no point trying to provoke him like that, it won’t get us anywhere.”

Gintoki sighs, profoundly dissatisfied with that approach.

“So what, next time he tries to humiliate you I just laugh like an evil stepmother?”

“He can try as much as he likes,” Takasugi answers harshly and Gintoki can immediately tell how insulted he truly is by the entire situation. “He won’t ever get to humiliate me.”

“Yeah, sorry but I don’t dig the evil stepmother role. I’d rather play Prince Charming at this point, honestly.”

“N–I…” Takasugi stutters and— oh did Gintoki manage to make him blush? Is this reality? “No,” He repeats, face growing red and averting his eyes. “Like I said, it– he’ll just grow frustrated and fire us both, it’s stupid.”

“Come on,” Gintoki sighs and slouches in his chair. “So what then, I pretend I hate you, and then what?”

“Then we make this project the biggest success this country has ever seen,” Takasugi answers seriously. “And hold our work hostage. He’ll be dancing in our palm in no time.”

Four hours later, right after lunch, they are all sitting in an improvised circle in the open space, brainstorming the project.

“I made a few drafts of what Justaway-san would look like on billboards.”

“We will need the design to be appealing in some way, despite the bullshit Gin– Sakata came up with. Any ideas? Kijima?”

“Oh, um… Well, what about… err…”

“I know! We should make it clear Justaway-chan is a girl!”

“Why, so the degenerates of this country will find it comforting when they jerk off to it? No. Justaway will be male.”

“Hmm, animes and mangas export well. We should make it our mascot character and have the story progress depending on our turnover.”

“Is that legal…?”

“It’s a good idea, but I don’t want the project to be tied to this shitty place.”

“Well,” Gintoki finally participates, spinning on his chair and balancing a pencil between his nose and mouth. “There’s no point coming up with a killer design anyway, because the moment you’ll present it to the guy he’ll say ‘I liked Sakata-san’s idea better’, so you’re stuck either way.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before opening your mouth,” Takasugi answers coldly and Gintoki sighs, putting the pencil back into Takasugi's pencil cup.

“Look, it’s not a bad idea. You just gotta elevate it to the next level.”

“Yes. We should give Justaway-san some friends,” Takechi nods and Kijima hits her foot on the carpet floor.

“Why?! One shitty design is enough! Don’t you think we’re already crippled enough by this dumb permhead’s idea?!”

“Leave it Kijima, Sakata is right anyway,” Takasugi says and Gintoki can’t help but grimace at the sound of his last name. It sounds so bad in his voice. “The old man is going to give the green light to the shittiest idea. So we might as well…”

“Um, I'm sorry, Sugi-san, but… Why are you suddenly calling Gin-san by his last name…?”

Gintoki raises his eyebrows, surprised that anyone would dare mention it. But it’s Kondo after all. He looks at Takasugi, who is definitely pondering on what to answer exactly. Which is too slow, Gintoki already knows what he wants to say so he beats him to it:

“We decided to be more professional.”

“Professional?” 

“Yeah, it’s a bit awkward otherwise. People talk, and all,” He says the last bit looking straight at Kijima and sending her a sweet smile.

She looks away immediately and he sees the start of a blush on her cheeks. He’s on a roll today. How many more people can he embarrass before the sun sets?

“We’ll say that,” Takasugi mutters, clearly displeased. “Let’s not dwell on this, we need to be smart if we can ever hope to make this shitty project a hit. We’ll need collaborators…”

“Anime collaborations,” Takechi nods.

“Oh! Or idols!” Kondo says, snapping his fingers as if he just had the best idea of his life.

“Those are two big trend setters, yeah. But still a bit limited to their own niche.”

“Adverts,” Kijima offers. “Famous clothing brands? Or shoes.”

“Why not all at the same time,” Gintoki says with a shrug. 

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” Takasugi agrees. “We build partnerships with different stakeholders and plan a release all at the same time. Suddenly the country will drown in Justaway, people will wonder. It might even spark conspiracy theories. Perfect to make people talk.”

“Amazing,” Kijima says with a grin, nodding her head. “I'm on board! I can look into partnerships with different brands.”

“Good. Takechi, can you take care of the design?”

“Of course. It will be done in no time.”

“Kondo,” Takasugi calls and stays silent for a few seconds while the man just sits straight on his chair with a big puppy-dog smile. “You… can work with Takechi.”

“Okay!” He agrees enthusiastically, completely unaware he was just thrown aside.

“I can secure a partnership with an idol,” Takasugi says casually and that makes Gintoki do a double-take.

“What?” He asks immediately. “Since when do you know an idol?”

“I don’t. But I know someone who might be able to help,” He answers and stands up as if this was the end of this meeting and the conversation was over.

It’s definitely not over though.

“Who? Zura?”

“No.” 

The others stand up as well and Gintoki stays firmly sat on Takasugi's chair, unwilling to let this bit of crispy information go.

“Zura’s friends? Zura’s girlfriend?”

“No, and no,” Takasugi answers, rolls the chair he was sitting on back to the empty desk behind him and glares at Gintoki. “Get up.”

“Come on, who is it? Why haven't I ever heard of this mystery person?”

“Because you have, idiot,” Takasugi says and walks back to his desk to plant a foot on his chair, preventing Gintoki from rolling it back and forth like he was doing a second before. “In fact, you insisted I go talk to him. Are you satisfied now? Give me back my chair.”

“Oh,” Gintoki says simply, blinking his eyes as the puzzle pieces slot together in his head. “Ohh. Oh, but. Wait, you texted him? For real?”

“No, not yet. But he said to call if I ever needed a music producer, didn’t he? Well I need one right now.”

“Wait wait wait, it’s not just innocent music production, seriously, this guy gave you his number ‘cause he agreed that you’re charming. That’s suspicious Takasugi.”

“Don’t start with your aimless drama,” Takasugi sighs and shakes his chair a few times. “Get off my seat and let me do my job.”

“What if he asks you for weird favours in return? Have you thought about that?”

“Are you implying that I can’t handle myself?” He asks aggressively. “What do you think will happen to this guy if he asks for ‘weird favours’, hm?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not saying you’re weak, just…”

“Just what?”

“Just that…”

Well. What is he saying? He definitely didn’t think Takasugi would ever randomly get a guy’s number and decide to call him. Back then he just wanted to see him behave a bit differently. Be the real flirty asshole he was always meant to be. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Takasugi being relaxed enough to say some wildly seductive things with that easy smile of his. It happened once or twice when they were teens. And then never again. Well, until he forced it out of him, at least. But it doesn’t sit well with him, the possibility that this random guy who got to see that extremely rare sight can make a come back in their life. 

He blinks, coming up empty when he thinks of what to say. Then he crosses Kijima’s gaze, frowning from the other end of the room. Kondo is also staring, a worried wrinkle between his eyebrows. Takechi is frozen in the middle of dragging his chair back to his desk, seemingly engrossed in their conversation as well. They must all be thinking they’re having some sort of lovers' spat. Which is kind of what it looks like, now that he thinks about it. So, naturally, he looks back at Takasugi and says in a deadpan voice:

“I'm just jealous.”

Kondo coughs loudly, apparently choking on his breath. 

“Stop with your bullshit,” Takasugi answers in a venomous tone.

“You’re so insensitive,” Gintoki sighs but gets up anyway. “Just don’t cheat on me, okay?”

“So now it’s…?!” Takasugi starts angrily, face flushing and stuttering on his words once again. Oh wow. Three times he's embarrassed someone today, a new record. “Fuck it.”

He can’t deny that flustering Takasugi gives him a very satisfying spike of adrenaline. Almost like when the prize you’re aiming for falls out of the pincer and you watch it tumble down, eyes glued to it with fascination, wondering will it get in. So when the man walks to him, grabs his arm, and drags him right back into the relative privacy of his office, he lets it happen with complete peace of mind. Takasugi rounds on him the second the door is closed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He hisses, trying to stay quiet despite his explosive anger. “We just agreed to keep our distance! And then you dare say it’s not your fault when people think we’re together?!”

“But it's only—”

“No, shut up, I don’t want to hear your sorry excuses. What is it going to be this time? You can't say shit about me and Zura now that he’s involved with someone so, what, let’s just fuck around by saying there’s something between us, then?”

“Come on, I'm sure no one took it seriously.”

“Yeah, how convenient that would be, right?” Takasugi answers and suddenly stops as if he had just said the most incriminating thing in his life.

“Look, I said I don’t like the distant act, sorry I need a little time to adjust to the evil stepmother thing.”

“Just– why the fuck would you do that?” Takasugi asks, gesturing vaguely at the open space on the other side of the wall.

Gintoki sighs, slumping his shoulders and looking away defensively. 

“Are you really gonna yell at me for not ignoring you like you wanted?”

“Is this just– fun, for you? You think it’s funny?” 

“No, I think it’s hilarious,” He answers in a bored tone. “If you weren’t so caught up in your 4D chess game maybe you’d have the capacity to find it fun, too.”

“Alright,” Takasugi says coldly, all of a sudden completely calm. “No need to pretend anymore, then. I’m done.”

“What?”

“You heard me. No ‘pretend’ distance, real distance. You stay in your goddamn lane, and I'll stay in mine.”

He turns, opens the door and leaves, slamming it shut in the process. Gintoki’s blinds rattle with the force and he is left standing there, blinking at the door. Well. That was some real rage right there. He probably should have toned down the teasing. He exhales and scratches his hair. It’s probably nothing. They work together now, so it’s not like they will drift apart like they did before. It’s fine, Takasugi will stay angry for a day or two and then everything will go back to normal.

Right?

–

And so it has been two weeks and things are not back to normal. So he was wrong. Okay? Satisfied? Go ahead, call him a bastard, he probably deserves it. 

He’s going to sleep now. Yes it’s only seven o’clock, so what? He’s depressed. Depression needs to be slept off.

Chapter Text

Today is the day. He had totally forgotten. In retrospect, he should have known something was wrong, what with the crazy sleeping schedule and binge drinking he did these past few days. He always realises belatedly, once in front of the issue, thinking oh yeah that’s why. So yeah. He blinks his eyes at the notice board’s calendar, now in front of the issue. Meeting with Tsunpo, music producer, 2PM - TS.  

Yeah. That’s probably why he spent such a shitty weekend. What a joke. Okay, well, it’s nothing to feel bad about. Just Takasugi making some professional connections. With the guy Gintoki — for some selfish, stupid reason — pushed him to casually flirt with. Okay, okay, stop thinking about it. He doesn’t want to spend another weekend dead drunk and feeling miserable, geez, get over it. It’s perfectly logical, too. Ads, brands, idols, sponsoring, all that. Obviously a music producer is a perfect opportunity. No, okay, who’s he kidding, the guy smoothly gave Takasugi his number while agreeing he was charming — which is something Gintoki noticed first, thank you very much — how can it be innocent?! And everyone knows the artistic field is full of gays and lesbians.

He tears his eyes away from the notice board and keeps walking towards the restroom. Who cares? Who cares, anyway? Why couldn’t Takasugi try his luck after all? It’s perfectly normal. He has been single all his life, it’s only natural— or has he? Has he? He has never mentioned any ex whatsoever but it’s Takasugi Shinsuke we’re talking about, he wouldn’t mention exes even if he had those. Well now he’s curious. He probably shouldn't pry. Nor ask Katsura, that would be unwise. He walks out of the toilet after doing his business, mood as stormy as ever.

No, he should get this all out of his head. Pay a visit to Hasegawa and talk about mundane things. Maybe go for a drink tonight — okay, no, maybe not. He should give his liver a chance to recover from the weekend. But just one or two beers wouldn’t hurt. He barges into his friend’s office, ready to distract himself to oblivion.

“Oh– Gin-san,” Hasegawa greets him as meekly as ever and Gintoki stops dead in his tracks when he sees the other presence in the room.

The guy in question turns around on his chair and sends him a glare.

“Look who it is. The other culprit,” Hijikata grumbles and pushes his chair to the side, gesturing for Gintoki to walk inside the office. “Go ahead, we can expand this little trial.”

“No, I'm good, I think I'll—”

“Don’t you dare leave!” 

And this is how, five minutes later, Gintoki is sitting next to Hasegawa while Hijikata is looming over them, arms crossed and disapproving frown on his face.

“The staff found vomit in two toilets and suspicious stains on the carpet. Can’t you losers at least flush it?! You’re stretching my compassion to its limits.”

“Compassion? Don’t pretend you know what that is,” Gintoki says nonchalantly and Hasegawa sucks in a sharp breath.

Hijikata frowns even deeper and bends forward to try and intimate him. It doesn’t work.

“I haven't said a word to Matsudaira-san yet, because I feel sorry for you and your rotten friendship with the disruptive element. Don’t push it.”

“He has a name though.”

“Like I have a name that isn’t ‘you dumb security guy’!” 

“It’s not my fault it suits you perfectly.”

“G-Gin-san…” Hasegawa says quietly and bumps his elbow.

Hijikata nods and straightens up.

“Yeah, you should follow your friend's example and shut up. Be wise for once. I’m here out of the goodness of my heart to give you a chance, before I rat you out.”

“How generous,” He mutters and that earns him another elbow nudge from Hasegawa.

“It’s simple, HR. If you can prove you’re a valuable element here, then I’ll let it slide. Just once. You pull some disruptive shit again and you’re out. You hear?”

“Yeah, I hear you’re a dumbass who thinks my worth can be measured.”

“It can, it’s called money.”

“That's not very CRS of you.”

“Not… what?”

“Corporate Social Responsibility,” Gintoki recites with pride. “You know, treating people right and fairly. Rings a bell? Ah, yeah, no. No surprises here.”

“You fucker—”

“But! I’m up for the challenge. I’ll show you how invaluable I am.”

“You better,” Hijikata says darkly. “Next strike will be the last. And that goes for you, too,” He says and points at Hasegawa threateningly.

“Y-yes. I’m very sorry. I will do my best.”

“I swear that if I see just one more stain on the carpet, you’re both dead meat.”

“I thought you were security, when did you become the janitor?”

That remark earns him an entire pencil cup being hurled at his face. He ducks just in time and it crashes against the wall, sending pens everywhere while Hasegawa lets out a high-pitched shriek at the assault.

“Are you crazy?!” Gintoki yells, belatedly covering his head in reflex.

“At least that shut you up!” Hijikata yells back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an actual job to get back to.”

“Yeah, being the unfairly violent and uptight guard dog at the front door!” Gintoki screams loud enough for him to hear even as the man walks out and slams the door behind him, rattling the blinds.

Huh.

Hasegawa exhales loudly as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time.

“Gin-san, that wasn’t… very wise. He seems really angry.”

“Doesn’t he–” He starts to say and clamps his mouth shut a second later. 

“Um. Yes?”

“He’s as violent and moody as Takasugi.”

“Oh. Erm. I suppose? Takasugi-san is nicer to me though.”

“Yet he’s one of the boss’ favourites…” Gintoki mutters to himself, ignoring Hasegawa.

“Well, he is dedicated to order, while Takasugi-san…”

“Yeah,” Gintoki nods. “He’s a violent and moody snitch, and it’s enough for the old bastard. Being a snitch.”

“What are you talking about?”

Gintoki turns his head to look at his friend and seriously announces:

“I’ll snitch on Takasugi.”

“Um, I… I don’t think you should try to upset him on purpose if you want him back…?”

Gintoki pauses. It isn’t the first time his friend made some innuendo about their relationship status, he still doesn’t know how that happened but never bothered denying it. Maybe he should deny it now. Maybe Takasugi will talk to him again if he goes around the company shouting that there is nothing going on between Takasugi Shinsuke and Sakata Gintoki. Or, most probably, that will be the final nail in his coffin.

“No offence, friend, but I'm not taking relationship advice from you.”

“Uh, I… Yeah. Fair.”

Ten minutes later, he’s knocking on Matsudaira’s door, proud of his brilliant idea. Who said he can’t play mind games? Takasugi is the one who said he can’t play mind games. Joke’s on him, Gintoki is an excellent liar when he wants to be.

“What?!” The boss’ booming voice comes through the door.

He’s probably too used to only being bothered when he purposely summons someone. Gintoki grins. If he can piss off the old man, it’s just the cherry on top.

“It’s Sakata, I have something to report.”

There’s a short silence on the other end, and then Matsudaira laughs and invites him to come in. He opens the door, bows his head quickly, and closes it behind himself. Matsudaira stands up from his desk and gestures for him to follow as he walks towards the windows.

“Make yourself comfortable!”

Gintoki walks with him to the corner of his office with comfy seats and a huge potted plant. He notices it’s plastic when he sits down.

“So, I'm listening,” Matsudaira says with a satisfied smile.

“Well,” Gintoki starts, thinking of that music producer’s little smile when he smoothly produced a business card out of thin air. “I’ve been watching Takasugi, like you asked. He’s very dedicated to his task. But, maybe a bit too much.”

“What do you mean?” Matsudaira asks and leans back in his seat, lifting his chin in curiosity.

“I mean that he’s going all out, but it can make him overlook a few things. Like, for example, doing a quick background check on the people he invites here.”

“He’s inviting people here?” Matsudaira grins in a sinister way. “He's not selling sensitive information to competitors, is he?”

Gintoki leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and trying his hardest to look dead serious.

“I’m sure you know how intelligent he is, but he’s not infallible either. I’m afraid it could turn out to be the other way around. His urgent need to build partnerships is opening us up for these kinds of attacks.”

“You’re eager to defend him…”

“I know him well, like you said,” Gintoki says with a shrug and leans back. “I know his weaknesses, and I just pointed one out to you.”

“Hmmm…”

“He has a meeting with a potential partner at two o’clock, today. Maybe we should take the time to do a background check before, don’t you think?”

“Today? Hah! Thank you for informing me,” Matsudaira says and stands up, walking back towards his desk.

Gintoki watches him and stays idle for a few seconds as Matsudaira shakes his mouse and types on his keyboard.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m summoning my dear Takasugi-san at two o’clock.”

Gintoki grins, allowing himself the satisfaction for a second.

“Ah, yeah, it’s safer for now.”

“Of course. You can go, Sakata.”

Gintoki nods and leaves the huge office. Perfect. Mission accomplished, meeting avoided, position secured. Hijikata can rat him out and nothing will happen now, because he’s also a snitch.

At lunch, he spots Kondo and Hijikata eating together in a corner and walks to them with a smug smile on his face.

“What do you want, HR?” The man hisses the moment he puts his tray down next to him.

“Haha, be nice Toshi! Gin-san is a friend.”

Hijikata grumbles but says nothing more, and Gintoki feels incredibly satisfied.

“I am, indeed, a friend. I have entered the VIP club, in fact. I’m sure if you ask the big boss, he will say I am one of the most valuable employees here.”

“Good work, Gin-san!” Kondo encourages him with a smile and rice on his chin. 

“Are you actually productive?” Hijikata asks in a grunt.

“Incredibly productive,” Gintoki nods, picking up his chopsticks.

“It doesn’t surprise me!” Kondo exclaims and Gintoki holds back a laugh. “At least one of us is making progress.”

“Your project manager is shit,” Hijikata answers to that, shaking his head, and Gintoki immediately raises his eyes from his salad. “Banning you from taking over, what bullshit.”

Kondo laughs meekly and looks down.

“What?” Gintoki asks and Hijikata’s sour expression turns to him.

“Yeah, that’s right. Takasugi had a meeting planned but Matsudaira-san needs him this afternoon. Kondo-san is the only one available to take over but that bastard doesn't want to let him conduct the meeting and is trying to negotiate with the boss. There’s so many things wrong with this I don’t even know where to start.”

“Look, it was Sugi-san’s personal contact!” Kondo exclaims. “I understand that he wants to do it himself, and I don’t hold it against him! If he can find a common ground with Matsudaira-san, then I'm all for it.”

“No, he’s treating you like you’re incompetent and disrespecting Matsudaira-san’s demands.”

“You’re always so pessimistic, Toshi. I choose to believe in Sugi-san.”

Hijikata sighs loudly and Gintoki looks at them both, a slow yet heavy feeling settling above his head. He’s kind of a bastard, isn’t he? That was kind of a dick move, wasn’t it? Yeah.

“Hey,” He interjects. “Maybe I could convince him to let you do it.”

“Oh!” Kondo smiles brightly at him. “You think so? That would be great, Gin-san!”

And so, at one o’clock, Gintoki finds himself walking towards the coffee machine in the open space where Takasugi is waiting for his cup to fill up.

“I heard the boss is trying hard to get in your way,” He says innocently as he approaches.

“Yes,” The man answers curtly, and says nothing else.

“Why not let the gorilla do it? He’s friendly, people like him. He’s good at this,” He says, stays nonchalant and rests his weight on the filing cabinet separating the spaces.

“He’ll mix up dates or budgets or who knows what else.”

“Just give him a sheet.”

“No.”

“I’m pretty sure he can read, at least.”

“I said no,” Takasugi ends the conversation and picks up his mug once the machine has stopped thrumming.

“What about me, then?” Gintoki asks as he watches him go. “I can read.”

Takasugi doesn’t even answer this time, ignoring him once again. Gintoki follows after him, determined to soften the blow of his kind-of-asshole-ish move. 

“Just tell me what to say.”

But Takasugi keeps on ignoring him, getting to his desk and pulling at his chair.

“It’s just one time, Takasugi, come on. I’ll follow the script, I promise.”

“We both know how incredibly gifted you are at ‘following a script’,” Takasugi says snidely and Gintoki grimaces, scratching his hair.

“Yeah, well. I’ve always been better at improv.”

“Yes, we’ve seen that many times before. The sushi restaurant, the supermarket, the deal with Zura, the Justaway, and I won’t name the last one.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. What choice do you have, though? It’s either me or Kondo, and the clock's ticking.”

“Can you–” Takasugi starts to say and immediately stops, turning his head to stare at him with squinted eyes. “This is truly ‘just one time’, by the way.”

“Yes,” Gintoki nods, giving him a thumbs up. “Got it.”

“Right. Then just keep Kondo in check. I’ll send you the most important things to mention. Make him stay on track.”

“Understood,” Gintoki gives him a military salute and Takasugi rolls his eyes, turning back towards his screen. 

—

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

Heyyy Kintoki! How are you? You didn't seem too well the other day! Actually, I'll be back in Japan this weekend hahaha! Wanna hang out? Let’s invite Zura and Takasugi too!

At a quarter to two, Gintoki is in his office, balancing pens on his desk to build a pyramid when he receives this text. He twists his mouth, wondering about the chances of Takasugi and Katsura forgiving him in just a few days. What bad timing. He ignores Sakamoto and closes the messaging window, and finds himself blinking numbly at the name right underneath.

Sarutobi Ayame.

Damn. Call him crazy, but. Sarutobi used to work for an edition house and… well, aren’t they looking to secure partnerships? If he manages to get them an editor to partner up with, Takasugi will forgive him sooner. Maybe by this weekend, even. 

Sacchan

hey do you still have some contacts from your old job?  

He is ready to close the window and start some sudoku game when the little ‘read ’ appears next to his text. In less than a second. Damn. She’s not a stalker for nothing.

Gin-san!! I’m so glad 2 her from u!! I thought itd NVR hpn?? R u ok??? Its an emergecy?? We can meet @ my place!! 

“Write normally, what’s wrong with you?” He grumbles and types an answer with one finger.

He slows down and eventually stops, distracted by the growing sound of conversation from the open space. Is that it? Is the guy here? He rolls his chair to the wall and pulls down a blind with his finger, spying on the next room. He spots Kondo easily, standing up in the middle and gesturing wildly while talking. Talking to a tall man with headphones around his neck and spiked up hair dyed in a sea blue colour at the tips. Yep yep there he is. Time to impress Takasugi with his amazing skills at doing exactly what he is told.

He exits his office and Kondo immediately turns to him, a wide smile on his face.

“Oh, Gin-san! Great timing!”

“Hi,” He greets and walks up to the duo, looking the new guy up and down. “I’m Sakata Gintoki, I work in HR, nice to meet you,” He says with a smile and a quick bow of his head.

The other man does the same, nodding slowly.

“Likewise, Sakata-san. I’m Kawakami Bansai, I’m a music producer and I go by Tsunpo. I manage a few well-known artists.”

“Yes, that’s why you’re here. Did Takasugi give you a rundown or…?”

Kawakami blinks and stays silent for a second too long.

“Takasugi Shinsuke, I suppose?”

“Yes? What?”

“He only gave me his first name,” Kawakami says with a shrug and a comfortable smile finds its way on his face. “Funny that.”

And, oh, Gintoki doesn’t like that one bit. Who does this guy think he is? This isn’t the right place for familiarities like these.

“Yeah, he probably didn’t want you to stalk him on the internet.”

“A wise precaution.”

“Sugi-san always prepares for the worst, doesn’t he? It’s too bad he couldn’t make it today, but we’ll do our best to replace him, Kawakami-san!”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Kondo laughs and ushers Kawakami to the coffee corner, asking him what he’d like to drink. Gintoki follows morosely. Kawakami asks for a coffee and Kondo makes small talk as he prepares it, making the other man talk about his artists and the shadows work that goes behind each of their performances. This is exactly the kind of discussion Takasugi would find interesting. It’s not interesting though, it’s just technical speech. 

They move to Gintoki’s office to have a semblance of professionalism, and Kondo invites Kawakami to sit in the only other chair while he stands next to Gintoki.

“So! Let’s start from the beginning,” Kondo says. “We are creating a mascot and looking for sponsors willing to promote it. We would like to have it featured in a music video.”

Kawakami nods, resting his fuming mug on his knee.

“Yes, Shinsuke and I talked about it already. We were supposed to figure out the details together today.”

“Now that you know his last name you should use it, this is a business proposal you know,” Gintoki grumbles, shifting in his seat. “So what are the details you need to know?”

“Which artist would be the best fit, what kind of benefits I can expect from you, what your schedule is,” Kawakami says and pulls a folder out of his bag, neatly depositing it on the desk and pushing it with one finger towards Gintoki. “Shinsuke mentioned autumn or winter at the latest, do you have a clearer vision yet?”

He has no idea what fits the schedule or if there even is a schedule at all. Because he has been thoroughly kept out of every discussion involving Takasugi, who is the project manager. And what kind of benefits would this guy accept? Maybe he was right to worry about him asking weird favours. Gintoki is annoyed already.

“Ah, not yet, I'm afraid!” Kondo exclaims and curiously opens the folder. “It’s still up in the— Oh! Is that Otsuu?!”

“Yes.”

“She’s very talented! I’ve heard a few of her songs, they’re really addicting!”

“About that,” Gintoki cuts off. “Let’s be efficient, what options do we have when it comes to artists?”

Kawakami nods and they get back on track. Gintoki has to keep Kondo focused three more times, but otherwise the meeting ends with three artists’ names, three possible dates, and a successfully negotiated investment. It all goes well, yet Gintoki cannot bring himself to be satisfied. He’s still annoyed.

It really is just a business proposal, though. The man doesn’t stray from the point even once, and Gintoki wonders what kind of message Takasugi sent him in the first place. He might have bluntly written hi would you be interested in a business proposal , as if there was nothing wrong with texting this to a guy who flirted with you. And actually, it sounds exactly like something he would do.

The three of them leave his office, Kondo finally getting the opportunity to go off topic and ask Kawakami about Otsuu and whether or not he could get an autograph for his little cousin.

Takechi enters the open space right at this moment, followed by Takasugi.

“Oh, Sugi-san is back!” Kondo exclaims and then points at Takechi. “And this is our head designer, it would be nice to discuss things together as well.”

“Indeed.”

Takechi only bows his head from afar but Takasugi starts walking towards them, nodding idly at Kawakami.

“Hello, sorry for the inconvenience.”

“It was no problem.”

“Yes, Gin-san and I took care of it!” Kondo says with a smile, straightening his back. “I will email you a quick summary, Sugi-san.”

“No,” Takasugi says quickly and Gintoki almost laughs at the alarmed look he sends Kondo, remembering the times they spent drunk at his place where he complained about the man’s incredible incompetence with technology. “Write it on paper.”

“Understood!” Kondo exclaims and bows, walking to his desk to get to work.

Gintoki shakes his head.

“I’ll email you,” He says with a smile and Takasugi looks back at him.

“Yeah. Alright,” Then he turns to Kawakami. “I’ll walk you out. We can decide on another date to meet.”

“I would like that,” Kawakami nods and addresses him a goodbye and a thank you before he follows Takasugi out of the open space.

Gintoki stands there, still annoyed.

His phone vibrates in his pocket as he turns around to get back to his office and he checks it lazily with one hand while pushing the door open with the other.

Sarutobi sent him a sticker. A very ugly one, the white and deformed sheep-like character frowning with way too many wrinkles on its pudgy face and question marks over its head. Gintoki sighs and picks up his sentence where he left it, the blinking bar waiting in the middle of a word.

i need an editor's number or email, please

Better be polite. This is a business proposal after all. Exactly like Takasugi’s very probably went. Something blunt and professional and unfeeling and ignoring the flirting from the other party. Gintoki steps into his office, falls on his desk chair and he gets another notification right away.

Sacchan

Emergency???!! I can sen u a contact OK!!

She adds another ugly sticker, this time of a wrinkly old man in a bandana holding his thumb up. 

[email protected] 03-578-28X

coworkr

Ex coworker

Gin-san r u ok??? why wld u need an editor?? thus guy is a pain but his ok at his job

If sth was wrong ud tell me rite??? 

Another sticker, ugly, depicting a mock animal copy of ‘The Scream’. Gintoki can perfectly picture her making this face.

Did u get dumped???!!! u need confort w/ manga spoilers??? I can b ur comfort!!! 

I new this guy was bad news Gin-san!!!!

Her texting spree makes him want to throw his phone out of the window, instead he bangs his head against his desk to give himself strength before he answers:

no!!!! it’s a matter of business you sicko!! 

but thanks for the mail

Let’s not forget the professionalism along the way. Always stay polite with the business partners. Also, yeah, he’s a complete idiot. He had forgotten — again — that Sarutobi thinks he’s currently in a committed relationship with Takasugi. Which means she absolutely cannot come here. At least, she might not latch onto him like an octopus, but might instead go yell at Takasugi and threaten him. Which cannot happen under any circumstances. That will make him lose all chances of ever being forgiven.

Sarutobi spams him for another minute or two and he ignores her, opening up a sudoku instead.

Fifteen minutes later, he hears the door of the open space again and rolls his chair to the glass, spying inside. It’s Takasugi. 

Gintoki stands up, refusing to think about what kept Takasugi by Kawakami’s side for fifteen minutes, and leaves his office. He walks two steps and his eyes fall on a pair of green ones looking back at him dispassionately. Only Takechi and Kondo are here too. He takes a sharp breath and Takasugi only slowly turns on his chair, facing his screen and ignoring him once again.

“Okay, wait, though, before showing such disdain. I got a contact from a big edition house.”

Takasugi looks back. He doesn’t seem any more interested, but at least he is looking. What a frustrating situation. Gintoki takes his phone out of his pocket almost self-consciously. He taps and scrolls a few times before stopping at the email address and phone number in Sarutobi’s conversation window and deposits his phone on Takasugi's desk, right next to his mouse. The man follows the movement by turning slightly on his chair and he bends forward to look at the screen. Did he make sure to position the message so that Sarutobi's freak out about his ‘breakup’ is not visible though? Did he? Gintoki also bends forward discreetly, sweating. He gets distracted by the smell of Takasugi's shampoo. He really has nice hair. But that’s not what’s important right now, dammit. Oh, he can see her ugly sticker of ‘The Scream’ at the bottom. Good. 

“Good job,” Takasugi says simply before his finger touches the screen and drags up.

Gintoki immediately rips his phone out of his hand.

“Uuhhh??!” He screams helplessly, “Rude? What is this, do you and Zura casually snoop through each other’s phones?!”

“No. I’m simply amazed at this woman’s inability to write a single word correctly. I got curious.”

“I’ll answer it for you then: no, she can't spell. She’s a complete dumbass.”

“What makes you think she’s reliable then?” Takasugi asks and leans back on his chair.

“I mean, it’s not her we’ll be collaborating with. It’s this ‘Hattori’ guy,” He says while raising his phone to eye-level to read the name.

“I suppose. You can forward me the info, I'll take care of it.”

“Alright,” He agrees quietly, frowning at his screen in dissatisfaction as he copies the message and pastes it in Takasugi's messaging window. “So. Is the music producer on board?”

Takasugi hums quietly.

“Yes.”

“We didn’t screw it up. Exactly like I said.”

“And like I said: this is just a one time thing.”

Gintoki sighs and leans against Takasugi's desk, pocketing his phone.

“Seriously, I secured the partnership with the music producer and I got you another contact. You’re still angry?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, alright,” He sighs and stands upright.

He waves and adds see you later as he walks back to his office. He will give him that space he seems to need. After spending so long being completely ignored, this light conversation is already a win in Gintoki’s book, anyway. 

Maybe he just isn’t patient enough. Maybe time is all that’s needed.

Chapter Text

Gintoki wakes up to the sound of loud commotion in the open space. He blinks his eyes open, squinting at his dark ceiling. Why are they so dynamic this early in the morning? What time is it, even? Did he sleep through his alarm or something? He closes his heavy eyes again, groaning quietly and settling on his side, trying to get some shuteye back. Kijima is yelling don’t drop it, and Kondo is screaming be careful on repeat like a broken record, getting faster each time. Is that Hasegawa’s voice, stuttering and asking what is going on? It probably is. Takechi is calmly assuring everyone he has it under control. What “it”, Gintoki doesn’t know, and doesn’t care. Takasugi is probably there too, but staying quiet because that’s how he—

“This is the ugliest thing I have ever seen in my life.”

Oh, no, apparently he has to comment on “its” lack of beauty. Which is fitting. When they were teenagers, Gintoki caught him reading ancient samurai poetry in class, which seriously made him reconsider whether or not Takasugi was part of a gang of extreme nationalistic criminals. Literature was the only class where he had good grades, it figures. Anyway, that’s off topic. Takasugi likes beauty, that’s the topic. And Gintoki would like to get back to sleep, so if the idiots could…

“Ugliness is also part of the point, Takasugi-san.”

“This design is something else though.”

“I actually like it! It’s very simple and effective!”

“It has a certain charm, I daresay.”

Gintoki's eyes fly open and he is suddenly wide awake. Is that who he thinks it is? Again? Two days in a row? What happened, did he change jobs? Does he work here now?! He is just a business partner, why does he need to spend so much time here? This isn’t normal. Something fishy is going on. He sits up on his futon and rubs harshly at his eyes.

“I am not sure about the charm…”

He freezes, fingers still on his eyelids. Is that seriously Katsura’s voice?

“No, clearly. It’s ugly.”

“Ugliness can have its own charm, Shinsuke.”

Gintoki removes his fingers from his eyes, frowning and getting annoyed. He is still calling Takasugi by his first name? What’s this guy’s problem? They are in a professional environment!

“Don’t get me wrong, I have no doubt this will work. The masses are easily moved, with or without charm. Maybe they can relate to the ugliness.”

“Oh, do you think they see this as a metaphor? Like how we have to put on a mask of indifference, exactly like this ugly little character. Empty eyes, mouth in a straight line, arms hanging at our sides, aimless and lost…”

“Just the average salary man,” Gintoki mumbles to himself, yawning and stretching his arms.

“Like any salary man,” Kawakami says and Gintoki freezes mid-stretch once more.

Seriously, what is this guy’s problem?! Does he read minds? Is he hell bent on taking Gintoki’s place? Replacing him? Being better than him, even? What is this?! He needs to intervene. Gintoki quickly removes his pyjama top and hops on one foot to jump into his trousers as quickly as possible. This meeting – whatever it is – clearly needs his unique input. He barges into the open space while buttoning up his shirt and all heads turn towards him. Katsura is indeed there, standing with his arms crossed between Takasugi and Kijima. Kawakami stands on Takasugi's other side, one hand in his pocket. And just in front of them, sandwiched between Kondo and Kijima’s desks, carefully held up by Takechi and Hasegawa, is—...

“What the hell,” Gintoki says when his eyes meet the six feet tall statue.

“Oh, Gin-san! Did we wake you? Sorry, sorry!” Kondo apologises with a hand, extracting himself from behind the statue.

The statue, yes, let’s talk about it. Almost as tall as Hasegawa himself, it consists of a coral cylinder with a bulbous head and tired eyes drawn in black ink. On its sides are two stiff sticks, coming out right at the edge of its head. And he can stop the description right there, because that is all there is to say about it. It’s simple, and ugly.

“The… the Justaway…” He realises, with equal awe and horror as he recalls the ugly paper maquette Takechi presented to the boss.

The man in question nods solemnly after setting the monstrosity down on the ground.

“Yes, Gin-san. He finally came to life.”

“Congratulations,” Takasugi adds dryly and Gintoki’s eyes immediately flick to him, standing there in his business attire. It doesn’t even follow the dress code, he always refuses to wear a tie. He probably thinks he looks better like this. Which might not be untrue. “You’re its father. As ugly and stupid as you.”

Gintoki turns back to look at the thing. It certainly has his eyes—

“Ugly?! Gin-san is not ugly!!” 

Oh. Uh-oh. Ohhh he could recognise that shrill voice anywhere. Oh no. Why does he never think things through? Oh this will be a disaster. What is she even doing here anyway?! Gintoki turns around in slow motion, dreading the sight of the door and who he knows he will see there. And there she stands, in her purple glory. Hands on her hips and deep frown marking her features as she stares harshly at Takasugi. Oh glory. Oh damnation. And— and who is that gentleman with the shaggy brown hair behind her, has he seen him somewhere before? He could swear he knows him…

“Wow. So that’s what we’re working with?” The man says as he completely ignores Sarutobi and walks past her, looking the Justaway up and down.

Okay, alright, the coworker. The editor. Yet, why is his face so familiar? Or at least what he can distinguish, since it’s almost totally obscured by his hai— Oh! The Jump friend. The bench. The challenge to awe strangers. Takasugi accusing him of cheating. 

“Yes,” The man in question answers and his eyes narrow when he takes in the appearance of his interlocutor. 

Gintoki hurriedly steps in, snaking an arm around the editor’s shoulders.

“Yes, yes, it’s a bold design! It will make an impression for sure, let's talk about the details in my office.”

“ I’m the project manager,” Takasugi protests as he quickly follows them to Gintoki’s office. “You’re not even part of this team.”

“Hold on!” Sarutobi shouts and Gintoki curses at the sound of her heels quickly catching up to them. “I brought the contact to you, I’m the coordinator!”

“So I'm just ‘the contact’, now.”

Gintoki quickly urges the man into his office, pushing him by the shoulders. Takasugi and Sarutobi both stick to his back to squeeze through before he manages to turn around and close the door. Damn it. This might be the biggest mess he’s ever made yet, if he doesn’t steer this in the right direction.

“Okay, first,” He hisses as he rounds on Sarutobi and points a finger at her. “What the hell are you doing here?! Did you tell her to come?” He shifts his eyes and narrows them at Takasugi.

“What, why would I do that?” He counters with a frown. “I thought you did this,” He says as he gestures between Sarutobi and the other man.

“No! Why would I invite her here?!”

“Ohh, Gin-san, you’re still so bad with me~ Don’t worry, I will not divulge your secret,” She glances quickly at Takasugi and then winks at Gintoki.

He shivers despite himself. Damn, she will doom him. It takes a few seconds of silence for Takasugi to piece it together and remember enough of his last interaction with her, but then Gintoki sees the moment the lightbulb lights up with the way he frowns so deeply he could change colour.

“Are you kidding me,” He breathes quietly and glares at Gintoki.

“How can you talk to him like that!” Sarutobi immediately accuses him, her tone going high. “Being with Gin-san is a privilege!” She shouts and then clamps her mouth shut in an audible sound, her eyes growing wide behind her glasses.

Gintoki slaps his own face.

“Oh—” Sarutobi goes on and whips her head towards the third man in the room. “Being with Gin-san in a professional setting, of course. As in, working together, and seeing each other everyday. Okay, Zenzou?!”

“Stop screaming,” He answers nonchalantly and looks around the small office. “Where do I sit? And can you get me a coffee?”

“Sure! Absolutely,” Gintoki hurries to the door and flees the scene – and Takasugi's wrath – like he intended to do in the first place.

When he shuts the door, all eyes in the open space are on him. Kondo’s, first, brown and puppy-like. He’s twisting his fingers around a piece of cardboard that once covered the Justaway, exuding worry. Takechi’s, second, black and bottomless, looking down into his soul with his trademark indifference. Kijima’s blue is shadowed by her frown, sitting down on a chair and nervously playing with a pen. Thankfully Hasegawa’s eyes aren’t visible and he just coughs awkwardly, unlike the other man with hidden eyes who just stands there without a word. And last, but certainly not least, there’s Katsura. Katsura and this look he has sometimes, chin just a little higher and eyes looking down on you with his eyebrows going high like he’s particularly disappointed. Disappointed isn’t even the right word to express the magnitude of it. No, it’s more like when your mom asks you for a small favour but you spend the afternoon playing video games instead of sparing one minute of your day to do what she asked. Like you’re worthless scum and beyond hope. 

Well, yes, the walls are thin here. He can always hear them screaming from his office when they argue, as if they were right in front of him. And the opposite, logically, should apply.

Maybe Katsura’s expression does something to Gintoki – okay, he can’t lie, he feels a bit of shame of unknown origin – but a sudden discomfort invades him as he looks at each person in the room. How many people think he and Takasugi are together? Kondo? Takechi? Damn, who knows. Kijima, yes, definitely. Hasegawa, yes, okay, check. Kawakami, with the way he’s been encroaching into Gintoki-territory? Surely he suspects, what other explanation is there?! Sarutobi. That Hattori guy probably does too, now. Which makes it – surprise – the majority. Despite those two weeks of silent treatment. So, completely the opposite of what Takasugi wants. He needs to flee the country before Takasugi finds a way to discreetly murder him. 

“Did you need something, Sakata-san?” Katsura asks neutrally.

Hearing his last name spoken by this mouth like they don’t even know each other somehow hits harder than when Takasugi first started stuttering ‘Gin-Sakata’. He ignores the discomfort and takes a breath.

“Just a coffee. That’s the editor we’re partnering with, by the way,” He says as he points towards his office behind himself and walks towards the coffee machine at the corner of the room. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh! Gin-san, you know Katsura-san, too?” Kondo asks jovially, breaking the tense atmosphere.

As much as he can. Kijima is still nervously twirling a pen and frowning at the floor.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t answer the question,” Gintoki says and puts a mug in place under the machine then hits the button. “Why’s he here? We’re partnering with him, too?”

“I’m a council worker, I'll have you know.”

“And?”

“And I can help with advertising and billboards.”

“So influential!”

“I'm only just starting. Still aiming for prime minister.”

“Right, right. Good luck,” Gintoki dismisses quickly and impatiently waits for the coffee stream to stop, gripping the hand of the mug.

“This project is really starting to take shape!” Kondo exclaims, once again trying to lighten up the mood. “It was a great idea you had, Gin-san. Good things happen when you and Sugi-san work together.”

“Y-yes!” Hasegawa hastens to add. “It’s true. You make a good team.”

“I don’t know about that…” Kijima mutters from the other end of the room.

“My verdict is also in the air,” Katsura says.

Gintoki groans and removes the mug from under the machine as the last drops finally fall, turning back and walking towards his office with his head stubbornly down.

“Yes, yes, let’s all divide ourselves between ‘team Gintoki’ and ‘team Takasugi’, why don’t you also ask the music producer what he thinks?” 

“I believe I'd be team Shinsuke.”

“What a surprise! Anyone else have an opinion to share?” He asks moodily as he stops in the middle of the open space and looks at everyone gathered in the room.

Until his eyes fall on the door and find Hijikata standing there with his eyebrows raised, holding a clipboard. Gintoki gestures towards him with his free hand.

“Yes, perfect, what about the security guy? A neutral party! So, team Gintoki or team Takasugi? We’re all on the edge of our seats!”

“What?” Is his only answer before he blinks, furrows his eyebrows, and shifts his furious gaze to Katsura. “Anyway, you! You didn’t fill in the visitor’s record!”

Katsura sighs as Hijikata waves the clipboard indignantly in his direction and Gintoki takes this moment to make his escape, still annoyed. He gets back to his office and shuts the door behind himself, finding Takasugi and Hattori sitting on opposite sides of his desk. His things have all been pushed to one side, piling under his computer screen to make space for a file and multiple papers. Sarutobi is standing in the corner, holding the blinds open. She lets them go in an audible snap when he enters and stares at her. She stares back.

“Thanks,” Hattori says without looking up from the papers, holding his hand out for the coffee.

“I feel like the big boss’s assistant,” Gintoki grumbles but slips the mug into his waiting hand.

“You can go now,” Takasugi dismisses him as if he were his assistant.

“No. Actually, I'm really interested in this project, too. And it’s thanks to me we can partner with an edition hou–” He stops when his eyes fall on the papers across his desk, quite a few being drafts for new manga chapters. “Is that Two Pieces?”

“Yeah. We were talking about adding Justaway cameos early.”

“In Two Pieces? You’ll put my child in Two Pieces?” 

“Sure. Would that give an innocent citizen on the brink of suicide a reason to live?”

“Are you kidding, I'd die happy and without regret!”

“So you did know each other,” Takasugi cannot help but comment because, as Gintoki has accused him of before, he cares way too much about being right.

Too bad for him, he is wrong.

“No,” Hattori answers nonchalantly at the same time Gintoki grins and shakes his head. “But you made an impression, I gotta say. I usually don’t bother with advertisers but when Sarutobi mentioned your name I got curious.”

“Of course, Gin-san is one of a kind, how could anyone forget him?” 

“If anyone finds a way, tell them to contact me first,” Takasugi grumbles and drags the drafts back towards him as if to get back to work.

“Careful what you wish for,” Hattori comments vaguely.

He might have two more ‘team Gintoki’ members right here. He isn’t too eager to find out though, not with Takasugi present in the room.

“Okay, whatever, back to the Justaway cameos,” He says and approaches his desk to look over the drafts – and get some free spoilers –.

They spend a few hours discussing business and strategy and he is amazed to discover himself capable of staying focused on serious topics for so long. But, well, it is Two Pieces they’re talking about.

–

Sakamoto Tatsuma

Heyy Kintoki? Haha, hellooo?

Gintoki stares at his phone screen emotionlessly, half lying on a picnic table outside the building during the lunch break. He took his break later than usual because of the impromptu meeting with Hattori – Sarutobi’s initiative, she admitted with pride. Gintoki asked how she knew where he worked but answered his own question with ‘stalker, nevermind’ – and he’s not even hungry anymore. In fact, his stomach is churning like when he’s hungover.

Sakamoto had the right idea when he left Japan right after high school to study abroad. Gintoki should have done the same. Then, he wouldn’t have to deal with these shitty feelings of – what, guilt? Regret? Longing for what was lost? Whatever this mess with Takasugi is. He was happier when he believed they would never be more than some acquaintances who saw each other every other year. He had made his peace with that, actually. But now everything is called back into question and he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like seeing him everyday if this is how it’s going to be. Colleagues. Acquaintances. What bullshit.

He really made a mess of it all. So what does he tell Sakamoto? ‘Sorry, don’t invite Takasugi and Zura, they will be mad at me’? ‘Sorry I'm sick but go ahead and ask Zura’?

i can’t this weekend

He lets go of his phone and it falls pitifully against the wooden table, right in front of his meal. He avoided the cafeteria, he didn’t want to deal with all the gawking faces. Now everyone in this damn company is staring, whispering, or giggling, probably thanks to Sarutobi’s incredible discretion. It really was a shitty plan, there is nothing more annoying than having everyone stare at you like you just landed on Mars. So there he sits, with his konbini junk food, not even able to stomach any more than a bite.

His phone starts vibrating insistently and he groans, picking it up to see ‘Sakamoto Tatsuma’ written in big black characters on the screen. At least he had the sense to call via the internet and not the mobile network. He slides his thumb over the screen to accept the call.

“No is no, Tatsuma,” He immediately says, preparing for his friend’s list of arguments to convince him to hang out.

“Hahaha! Hello to you too! How are you doing?”

“Wonderful. Life is beautiful. What about you? Exploring the Amazonian forest?”

“Ahh, I wish! I haven’t done that yet! No, we’re still in Europe with Mutsu, we just got to Prague yesterday.”

“Uh-huh.”

“We’re taking the plane on Thursday! So, anyway, if you’re not free this weekend then when would be the best time?”

“For a gathering, you mean?” He asks, already prepared for the answer.

“Hahaha! Yeah, it would be nice! If Zura and Takasugi are available, too!”

“You haven’t asked them yet?”

“Zura says he’s always free for nostalgia time, haha! And Takasugi said not during the week.”

“Ahhh, that's too bad. I’m only free during the week!” Gintoki answers with a smile.

Sweet relief. He can escape this without embarrassing excuses. Bless Sakamoto and his running mouth.

“Yeah, that’s too bad! But it’s fine, I don’t have another flight planned yet, so I'll stay in Tokyo for a bit. We can all hang out together another day!”

“Yep. Sure. So, we can meet on Monday, just the two of us, after work?”

“Alright! Works for me! I can’t wait, it’s been too long!”

“Yeah, it has. Have a good flight back.”

“Thanks! See you on Monday!”

“See you.”

He hangs up and a sudden sound of ruffling leaves makes him jump. He turns around to find Sarutobi standing in a bush, her hair full of brambles and dead leaves and her glasses askew.

“Oh no, absolutely not,” He says and stands up, urgently gathering his unfinished bread and yoghurt.

“Gin-san, wait! Who was that? No, wait— I want to help you!” She screeches and extracts herself from the bush, one leg at a time.

“Leave me alone you sicko!” He screams back, walking away as fast as he can.

“Wait! I know I messed up a bit, but it’s all good! Zenzou is too dense, he won’t get it! And anyway, ever since you told me your secret, I have been worried, so— WAIT FOR ME!”

“NO!”

“I THINK HE’S CHEATING ON YOU!”

Gintoki stops dead in his tracks, nervously glancing around. There aren’t a lot of employees eating lunch outside at this hour, but still. Four middle-aged men are openly staring, frozen in their movement. The birds keep chirping though, so time hasn’t stopped. He turns around slowly, facing Sarutobi. She completely ignores his lack of reaction and jogs up to him, quickly getting her phone and scrolling through it.

“Let me show you!”

“You stalked him?”

“Yes! For your sake! I knew he was no good for you from the moment I saw him!”

And she shoves her phone under his eyes, presenting him with a picture of Takasugi and Kawakami sitting at a coffee shop. And that’s it. They’re sitting, one coffee cup in front of each, Takasugi has his hands clasped together and Kawakami is resting his elbows on the table.

“They’re just having coffee,” He states plainly.

He can’t really deny how much he dislikes that fact, though.

“Don’t you think they’re sitting a little close together?! Look closer! They’re totally leaning into each other’s space!”

Sarutobi turns the screen back towards her and zooms on the picture with her fingers, then shoves it back under Gintoki’s nose.

“Look at their legs!!” She screeches.

“... What? They’re not even touching.”

“Not yet. Look at the angle! This screams ‘I’m into you’!!”

“You’re paranoid.”

“Okay, if this won’t convince you, then how about—” She pauses and starts scrolling again, eyes glued to her screen. “This one?!”

The next picture is one of Takasugi in his business shirt, smoking right outside the building with Kawakami by his side. They’re talking and neither is smiling nor doing anything flirty. He still dislikes the picture anyway.

“Yes, he’s a business partner, they talk business. Nothing surprising about that.”

“They have known each other for only two days and they are already spending so much time together, don’t be blind Gin-san! Look how many photos I have!” 

She shows him her album, filled with pictures of Takasugi and Kawakami at different places, in different angles, and mostly just the same pictures taken over and over as if she was trying to capture every micro change in their expression.

“You’re totally insane,” He says, half fascinated and half disgusted. “And anyway, even if you’re miraculously right and he’s into that sunglasses dude, I won’t interfere and I don’t want you to, either.”

“What?! But Gin-san—!”

“If he’s unhappy with me then he’s unhappy with me. I’m not going to be his ball and chain.”

Sarutobi stays silent and slowly lowers her phone, expression growing grave behind her red glasses. 

“Gin-san. I thought you were the type of man who wouldn’t go down without a fight. But it seems I was mistaken.”

“Yeah, see how disappointing I am? Now leave me alone. And stop stalking him, too,” He says and turns away.

“If he breaks your heart, I will be here!”

“Urghh…” Gintoki grumbles and walks faster.

Chapter Text

Gintoki spends the rest of the week with a grey cloud hanging over his head. It might be his imagination, but it feels like all eyes are on him no matter where he goes or what he does. He avoids Takasugi and Takasugi avoids him. Every time his eyes fall on the huge statue of the monstrosity he created he narrows them and hates the world a little more. It could have been such a better representative for the Two Pieces cameos. It could have looked a little bit more like him. 

When the weekend comes, his appetite has completely disappeared from this world. He calls Hasegawa and they get drunk on Saturday night. Then on Sunday night, too, and he barely eats anything with how his stomach just keeps pulsing and churning and generally being an asshole. By Monday, he feels ready to throw up at any moment. And he still has to meet Sakamoto after work. He has half a mind to cancel at the last minute and spend the day and the night locked in his office, recuperating. But he hasn't seen Sakamoto in over a year, so he might be worth the effort more than any other friend. 

When five o’clock hits, he turns off his computer – not that he got much work done anyway – and leaves without a word. Kondo gives an automatic ‘good work today!’ when Gintoki passes by his desk and he mumbles the same. Takechi repeats the goodbye without emotion and Kijima stays resolutely silent. Takasugi, for his part, has been spending almost all of his time in meeting rooms and is not here when Gintoki makes his leave. 

He breathes in once outside, lamenting the lack of fresh air. Summer is merciless this year, and he can’t wait to get to the café Sakamoto sent him the address of to get back into an air-conditioned room and acceptable temperatures. Maybe it would help with his stomach issues. Lately it feels like that’s the biggest organ in his body with how it calls his attention every hour of the day, beating like his heart resides in there. He walks to the metro station, resigning himself to a somewhat uncomfortable evening. He hopes Sakamoto has lots of good stories to tell.

“Kintoki!” The man excitedly calls when he gets there thirty minutes later.

Gintoki walks up to where he’s standing in front of the café entrance, lifting a hand in greeting.

“Yo.”

“No way, just ‘yo’? Hahaha! You haven’t changed a bit!”

Sakamoto closes the distance remaining and stretches his arms to hug him, laughing all the while. Gintoki complains and struggles out of it, gesturing to the doors.

“Yeah, you haven't changed either. So, come on, let’s get inside and catch up.”

They wait in line for over ten minutes to get seats, trading stories of the past year. Sakamoto lists all the countries he visited during that time, totalling in seven all over Europe. He goes into details of what he liked the best in each one, and talks about the jobs he and Mustsu managed to get while on the move. Once seated, he declares he’ll just take a lemonade and Gintoki is relieved there won’t be any food on the table. He orders a melon soda and gets comfortable on the booth seat.

“So, what about you? What’s up?”

Oh, right, he can’t get too comfortable just yet. Where to begin? New job, more money than he’s ever had, no rent to pay, but it looks like God – if that thing even exists – decided to balance that out with an angry Takasugi, colleagues who tiptoe around him, and an upset stomach.

“Not much,” He shrugs.

“Ehh, really? Last time you said you’d found a job in construction sites, you’re still doing that?”

“No,” He answers and looks around to check if their drinks are coming soon.

“Aahhh, jobless again?”

“Hummm, no, actually,” He sighs and gives up the charade. “I work at the HR department in a big company, turns out.”

“HAHAHA!” Sakamoto howls with laughter and Gintoki shrinks into the booth. “What?! Really?! Wow, Kintoki, congratulations! How did you do that? Haha!”

“Luck, mostly. But also a friend recommended me.”

“Amazing where friendship can take you, right? Haha! That’s something I've learned while travelling, too! Most things are about who you meet rather than pure luck or preparations.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Their drinks arrive with a waitress and the conversation flows naturally. Sakamoto is easy to get along with, and spending time listening to his weird stories or philosophical theories make him almost forget about his insistent nausea. By the time seven o’clock hits, Sakamoto is asking if he’d like to relocate to an izakaya. Gintoki could swear he turns green simply at the mental image of food.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Thirsty, then?”

“Okay, you convinced me.”

They find a small bar instead, Sakamoto orders for both of them and Gintoki cannot wait to numb his mind yet again. His liver will recover another day. It’s crowded and loud, he finds himself pleasantly drowning in the noise of laughter and conversations. And then Sakamoto asks the question he has been dreading all evening:

“So how are Zura and Takasugi doing? Have you seen them recently?”

“No,” He answers too quickly and wants to slap himself. “I mean, depends what you mean by ‘recently’. Recently today, or recently a month ago, or…?”

“Hahaha! You’re weird, Kintoki. Recently, let’s say, in the past three months?”

“Oh, yeah, I have seen them.”

“Haha. Okayyyy. Aaaand?”

“And they’re doing good. Zura still wants to be prime minister. And Takasugi is– Takasugi. You know.”

“I see, I see,” He accepts without a fuss and Gintoki breathes out a discrete sigh of relief.

This is why he likes Sakamoto. Even when he knows something's up, he doesn’t pry. Very obvious hints of ‘I don’t want to talk about this’ are enough to make him back off and change the subject while keeping the conversation light and fun. Unlike a certain someone who never lets anything go because he needs to know whether he is right or not like he needs breathing. So, by Sakamoto’s side, Gintoki can just get drunk and numb his mind without issue. Which is what they do. They laugh and banter and trade stupid anecdotes until the high starts slowly turning into a low. 

“Okay… okay, Tatsuma, I think I'm drunk.”

“Hahaha! Me too!”

“No, but… I don’t feel very good.”

“Oh! Do you want to go to the bathroom? I could carry you!”

“No. No, I think I'll just…” He mumbles and lowers his forehead onto the table, closing his eyes.

“Yes, take a break! Breathe! Breaaathe, hahaha! It will be fine,” Sakamoto says and gently pats his back.

The world is spinning and his stomach feels like a bonfire. Actually, now that his head is lowered, his face also feels like a bonfire and his ears are drumming dully. Drinking usually feels better than that. Maybe he should have spent the evening recuperating, in hindsight. Oh well. He giggles to himself yet also feels like sobbing. Would he be feeling this shitty if Takasugi wasn’t angry at him? Would he want to sob like a toddler right now if he and Takasugi were actually together like everyone believes they are? Is that what he wants? Why would he be thinking about it otherwise? 

Maybe things would be easier if Gintoki knew what love is. 

"How can you tell…?" He asks, looking at the ground.

If he keeps his eyes fixed the world doesn't spin, and even though he usually enjoys the funny sensation, right now he could puke if he makes one wrong move. Stomach churning, acid in his throat. It's not normal.

"Tell? Tell what?" Sakamoto wonders and loudly empties his beer before he puts it down on the wooden table.

The sound reverberates inside Gintoki's head and he winces. He feels weak and sick. The biggest loser in the world. The emptiest person on this planet. Stranded somewhere unfamiliar, everyone speaking a language he doesn't have the capacity to speak. Something completely out of his grasp. As if. As if he could. Love someone. Just like that. Just because he's human. When he's probably not.

"Nevermind…" He mumbles.

He wants Takasugi to be there. Takasugi would take care of him. He would make sure he falls asleep in a comfortable position and cover him with a blanket, and then leave a glass of water for him. Life is always easier with Takasugi. He feels less empty with him there, the guy can magically pull things out of him. Things that don't exist. Things he doesn't even know are there. Things he's happy to see, because they make him feel simple. Normal. Human. Like he can speak the language everyone else speaks, actually. But he just forgot he could. Or he learned in his sleep. And maybe this is it.

Maybe this is it.

Wait.

This is probably it.

He blinks and pats down his pockets, feeling the shape of his phone against his thigh. He pulls it out and unlocks the screen after three tries, fingers clumsy on the buttons. Sakamoto laughs loudly and asks him what he's doing, Gintoki shushes him with an agitated wave of his hand. He grins when he finds Takasugi's name in his message history. 

Yes, this must be it. This is it. What else could this be? People describe love in all kinds of ways and none of them sound the same. But he is so sure right now. Some say love brings pain, but how could this be? No. There is no happiness comparable to finding one specific name in your list of contacts. Because this is it. Really. How could he have ever thought otherwise? This is totally it.

So he types those few important words in the small window and presses 'send' with a growing sense of euphoria.

----

this it — 01:24

Hikusugi

You're drunk. Go home. — 01:45

Gintoki stares at the exchange the next morning, sitting on his futon half naked and fingers trembling. Cold sweat on the back of his neck and an incessant buzzing in his head. And not just from the hangover. Oh he remembers, alright. He wishes he didn't. Why does he never forget what is convenient to forget? He wanted to forget this! Wanted to wake up calm and serene, not in a sudden burst of panic, eyes flying wide open and scrambling for his phone because did he actually tell Takasugi he loved him last night??!!

He is lucky to be a complete dumbass when drunk. So, as he finds out seconds after unlocking his phone — seconds that felt like centuries and made him curse his clumsy fingers — he did not, actually, tell Takasugi he loved him last night. 

No.

Instead, an incomplete and unsent 'i’m sick take care of me' with a heart emoji thrown haphazardly in the middle greets him in the message box, bar blinking at the end. He breathes slowly and erases it with a care he doesn't think he has ever shown in his life. Slipping and hitting 'send' by accident would end his life. So, he is careful. Erases each letter with a slow tap of his finger. He exhales and picks up the pace once the dreadful heart is gone. He throws his phone on the ground next to his futon once this insurmountable task is done and falls back on it with a groan. There is, undeniably, something wrong with him. 

He has been — slowly but surely, give him a break okay — coming to terms with the whole 'not all guys are gross and he might want to touch some of them' thing. That's not what's wrong. Not really. Even if, objectively speaking, you get a better deal being with a woman than with a man, so it would be dumb to get too attached to one, but hey.

No.

What's wrong is his entire deal when it comes to a certain man named Takasugi Shinsuke. Who might, incidentally, be part of the 'guys Sakata Gintoki wouldn't mind touching' crowd, but that's only part of the problem. The rest of the problem is precisely that Takasugi doesn't fit any other category with anyone else in it. He sits alone in so many descriptors it is ridiculous. The worst yet being 'people Sakata Gintoki has been in love with'. 

Which might or might not be true. He has all sorts of weird ideas when drunk. It isn’t the first time he’s wondered, but isn’t love supposed to be something more intense? Something that makes you do crazy shit, something that makes you cry, something that makes you stay? And not something that makes you run for the hills. 

Things would be easier if he had anything to compare this to. A middle school crush or something. Someone he loved to infinity and would have given his life for, like in the movies. But he's not a good character like that. He didn’t even like Tsukuyo like that. He had fun with a few women afterwards. Maybe that was love. Who knows. He got over each pretty fast. So maybe not. But he does find pride in his ability to bounce back, so maybe it was love and he's just really adept at moving on.

And then there's Takasugi Shinsuke, who has been popping up in his thoughts randomly for years until they got close again. And it wasn't anything like in high school. Back then, Takasugi was all teenage boiling passion, it was so easy to scratch under the surface, when there weren’t years of accumulated carapace in the way. In contrast, now it is careful steps and quiet gauging from a distance with a big void between them that wasn't there before. 

But that's his fault, probably.

He's the one who started that ambiguous dance, after all. Stupid teenage hormones. Dumbass Takasugi Shinsuke who was Sakata Gintoki's first 'guy he wants to touch'. It's never the right time to be a stupid oblivious teenager with raging hormones, he just wasn't prepared. So, he'll humbly take the blame for their falling out. That was his bad. Alright. All him.

But the rest?

The rest, he'd rather not think about. What a headache. When you add Katsura and Sakamoto’s impending judgement to the mix, it's a double headache. It becomes a triple headache when you take Kawakami into consideration, too. A quadruple headache when he considers Sarutobi and everyone in the office who thinks they’re a thing. It is such a huge headache it has become a damn brain tumour. And the less time he spends thinking about it, the longer he will live. Gintoki sighs with his entire chest in response to feeling the uncomfortable pressure build up. He lies there staring at the ceiling lamp of his office. Damn his stomach hurts.

The door to the open space opens and closes and he groans, shutting his eyes tight. The dead-eyed creep always arrives at unholy hours in the morning. Takasugi is next, then Kijima and Kondo. He sits up with all of the energy he doesn’t have and blindly reaches for his mug. He whimpers and folds back in two when his stomach protests the movement with a painful burn. 

“Ow, oh, okay, I shouldn’t have drank so much, I'm sorry, please stop,” He pleads with it, rubbing slowly.

It doesn’t do much, so he just stays there, hunched over and breathing shallowly until the pain stops. Okay. He’s been hungover before, but that’s new. That doesn’t feel very normal, maybe he should go see a doctor. He could get excused from work, too, so he might as well. Anything to escape the torture of meeting Takasugi’s eyes today with what he almost sent him last night fresh on his mind. He drags himself up, holding onto his desk for support. He has no energy, it must be outrageously early. Creepy-acountant is going to get an earful when he sees him.

Gintoki changes into clean clothes – he didn’t even bother getting into pyjamas last night – and walks out of his office, grumpy and sleepy and with a painful stomach. And bingo, the culprit of his rude awakening at ass o'clock in the morning is none other than the dead-eyed creep. Who stares back at him dispassionately, twisting in his desk chair to face him.

“Good morning, Sakata-san.”

“Why do you always come in at half past seven? It’s too damn early. You don’t even leave early! You know they don’t pay you for doing overtime, right? So why do you do it?!”

“Because I have a lot of work to do. Besides, Sailor Sun is getting a reboot and I have tons of episodes to rewatch to be ready for it.”

“Yeah well, next time, watch your episode in the dark. No lights until half past eight,” He grumbles and walks past his desk, heading for the door.

“Understood.”

“I won’t be here today, if anyone asks.”

“Alright.”

Takechi doesn’t demand any clarification and Gintoki is glad for it, leaving the open space and calling the elevator. During the wait, he takes his phone out and types ‘doctor’ in his search bar. He needs to find one that doesn’t take reservations. The search lasts for the entire way downstairs and through the lobby, when he finally locates a clinic forty-five minutes away that accepts patients at any time. It opens at eight, so he will almost make it at opening time and avoid queuing. With a bit of luck. So he pockets his phone, curses the heat, and gets going.

–

Gintoki is certain that his existence is a joke. If there is some god out there watching them, Gintoki is pretty sure he’s supposed to be the comic relief. Or the pathetically tragic character whose misfortune is so ridiculous it makes everyone laugh. That must be it. There is no other explanation for why, when a doctor is finally available to receive him after fifteen minutes in the waiting room, that doctor in question is a blond woman with tied-up hair and a scar under her eye that he is more than familiar with.

“Oh–” She interrupts herself after her automatic speech, consisting of ‘who is next’.

Gintoki stays seated, rigid and unwilling to acknowledge reality.

“It’s– uh, that man over there,” He says and points to the old man leaning on a cane in front of him.

“This is doctor Nishiki’s father,” She answers immediately. “He runs the front desk.”

There is only one solution. Gintoki stands up, apologises very formally, and walks fast towards the exit.

“Wai– what are you doing?! Don’t you need a doctor?” Tsukuyo follows him with quick steps and grabs his sleeve. “Gintoki! Let’s be adults about this!”

“No, I'm not running because it’s you– I just had a sudden wave of responsibility washing over me, I can’t miss work for something so minor, see. Sorry for bothering you!”

“Minor or not, let’s look at it. Come on.”

“No, really, it’s fine—”

“Damn it, Gintoki! I’m a professional, don’t be ridiculous!”

“Yes, yes, I don’t doubt that—”

“So come on then. Follow me,” She says with utmost calm and lets go of his sleeve, walking in the corridor towards her examination room.

Gintoki watches her until she is right at the door. She stops, sends him a look, and waits. He glances at the old man, completely unperturbed by their chaotic exchange. He might be deaf. He’s probably deaf. Gintoki sighs and slowly walks towards where Tsukuyo is waiting. What’s the worst that could happen? She’s right, she's a professional. Nothing will happen. She’ll examine him and give him some meds and he’ll be on his way. And they’ll never see each other again, just like it used to be.

“So, what brings you?” She asks when he enters the room and she closes the door behind him.

“Stomach pains,” He answers plainly.

Tsukuyo nods and asks him to lie down on the patient seat while she sits on a small rolling chair.

“What type of pain? Burns?”

“Sometimes,” He grumbles and does as she said.

“How long do these last?”

“Dunno. It always kinda hurts.”

“And since when have you been experiencing those pains?”

“A week or something.”

“Any other symptoms? Do you throw up?”

“Only when drunk.”

“Fever?”

“No.”

“Okay. Can I examine you?”

“Well I'm right here, so yeah, sure, go ahead.”

Tsukuyo rolls her chair closer and pushes her fingers against his stomach. Immediately he jerks and complains, pain shooting up to his brain.

“Right. Acute gastritis,” She says flatly, rolling her chair back.

“Okay,” He mumbles, slowly sitting up and rubbing at his stomach. “Which means?”

“Which means your stomach is producing too much acid. I’ll give you something for the pain and something to regulate the acid levels. Avoid greasy and spicy food, and alcohol too, for a whole week.”

“A week without alcohol? I’m a salaryman, you know, I have after-works to attend.”

“Then call in sick,” She answers without missing a beat and stands up. “Gastritis is often linked to stress. Is work stressing you out?”

“No.”

“Personal issues?”

“No, I have plenty of money and a roof over my head, everything is perfectly fine.”

“Lots of other things can be stressful,” She says calmly and picks up a few papers. “Moving house, getting married, having children, getting divorced…”

“Ah–” He stutters, embarrassed to hear ‘divorce’ echoe endlessly in his head.

“Whatever the case, you should consider taking it easy for a few days. I’ll be right back, you can go back to the waiting room.”

Tsukuyo leaves the room, rearranging the stethoscope around her neck and Gintoki watches her, disgruntled. He grumbles and steps down from the examination seat, grimacing at the way his stomach feels like a dead weight dragging him down. He goes back to the waiting room and dumps his weight on a seat which creaks loudly at the abuse. Other patients throw him some looks, he ignores them, staring at the ceiling while waiting for Tsukuyo to come back. He’s not going through a divorce but he’s going through something, alright. And it might be more stressful than he thought, if it's enough to make him sick. Yeah, it’s true. It’s making him sick. It’s literally making him sick. He laughs to himself. Tsukuyo comes back and he stands up to wait at the counter where she is signing prescriptions, stamping invoices, and putting some tabs of pills into plastic bags. 

“One per day, and three per day,” She instructs as she points at the different pills. 

“Okay.”

“Do you have your insurance card?”

“Yeah,” He answers automatically and digs his wallet out of his pocket.

He goes through the motions listlessly, waiting for her to scan his card, putting it back in his wallet, listening to her instructions once again as she slides the papers to him and adds the bags with the pills on top. He thanks her and folds the papers in half, and then in half again. She watches him before asking quietly:

“Are you alright?”

“Never better.”

“Well. Take care of yourself. Milk and rice should get you through it.”

“Got it.”

“Goodbye,” She says as he turns around and he answers that with a quick ‘bye’ and a hand wave.

He walks out of the waiting room, pushing the door open as he exits. What a sad state he is in. Damn his body for betraying him, ‘linked to stress’ bullshit sickness. Fate really is cruel. He never thought he would see Tsukuyo again after their catastrophic breakup, and Fate decides now, of all times, is the best moment to orchestrate a ridiculous reunion. When he’s suffering because of— because of what, because he cares about someone the way he should have cared about her? Is this really what’s going on? He’s not equipped for this. He doesn’t know what to do, and apparently his body decided to give up entirely. Yeah, it’s right actually, better to drown in acid than ever tearfully beg Takasugi to give him a bit of attention. 

Everything was so much better and easier when they were estranged. He didn’t have a stable job, could barely afford one meal per day and was on the brink of being homeless, but somehow it was less stressful than this, apparently. Having money, a place to squat freely, and Takasugi by his side is judged as worse by his own damn immune system. It makes so much sense! Perfectly reasonable! Nothing wrong with that! 

Damn, he’s angry. He needs a drink, and he can’t even do that anymore. He needs a distraction but he doesn’t want to see anyone. Then he’d have to explain why he’s not drinking and only eating mushy rice like a toddler. He’d have to admit to this horrible weakness residing in his gut, and– no, screw that. He will just brood in solitude for the entire duration of this treatment. Which he’s supposed to take for two weeks. Damn, he won’t survive with no social interactions for two weeks. Surely the effects will kick in sooner, won’t they?

He exits the building and takes his phone out of his pocket as he starts walking the streets back towards the metro station. He scrolls aimlessly, waiting for inspiration to hit him. Who does he want to talk to right now? There’s really only one answer to this question, and Fate decides to mock him once again when his thumb stutters on ‘Hikusugi’. He frowns and furiously locks his phone, shoving it in his pocket.

Solitude it is, then. It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine.

Chapter Text

The downside of getting drunk with friends you haven't seen in a long time is how unguarded and uncaring you can become. This is a lesson Gintoki will remember until the end of his life.

Sakamoto Tatsuma

heyyy Kintoki, I hope you recovered from last night, haha! So, have you and Takasugi made up yet? 

The text is followed by a huge sticker of a— bear? Koala? — unidentified animal with a big smile on its face, throwing a thumb up while winking. 

“Never again,” Gintoki mumbles and gobbles the pills he’s supposed to take. 

Let this be a lesson. He will be a model citizen from now on, he will save money, take care of his health, exercise in the morning and decline alcohol when offered by a friend who he hasn’t seen in a year. And refrain from spilling his guts out to him in a moment of weakness. Goddammit. Sakamoto usually doesn’t pry, except if you confide in him once, then it’s over. Your peace of mind will never recover.

yeah, not even hungover. and no we haven't made up but i don’t care it’s fine don’t bother 

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

Hahaha! Let me be your wingman!

Followed by a sticker of another unidentifiable animal, this time throwing its arms in the air, looking excited. Gintoki groans from where he is lying on his futon, holding his phone above his face. He decided to take it easy today, after that horrible reunion with Tsukuyo. He’s sick, after all. Work is totally stressing him out, if anyone asks. He’s sick because of work. On the brink of a burnout even.

wingman for what?? nah seriously don’t bother it’s fine

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

Haha! I’ll see Zura and Takasugi this Saturday! Don’t worry, I'll help you out!

Same sticker of the bear-koala winking and doing a thumb up. At the very least – at the very, very least – Sakamoto is more intelligent than Sarutobi and his ‘help’ might not doom him as much as hers. His help might just be totally ineffective chatter and unsubtle comments like ‘aren’t you old friends? Old friends forgive everything’ or something like that. So whatever.

He drops his phone and sighs loudly, covering his eyes with an arm. This is all stupid. He needs a distraction. A big, huge distraction. He gets up and leaves his office, ruffling his hair a bit to prevent it from being too flat on the side he laid on. Takechi turns his head and nods, Kijima barely lifts her eyes from her screen and— there he is. The bane of his existence. The object of his nightmares. The evil ghost haunting his thoughts. The reason for his daily torture. The one and only. He doesn’t even flinch, that bastard. Completely ignoring him, as usual.

Gintoki returns the courtesy and says nothing, walking out of the open space at a fast pace. He’s not running, whatever this looks like. He needs a distraction but he can’t drink and he can’t stuff his face, so there is only one solution. Which is how he finds himself at the pachinko parlour a half hour later, befriends the old man next to him and loses about one third of his salary.

–

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

Soooooo Takasugi's mad bc utell evryone ure a couple? 🤣🤣🤣

Gintoki frowns deeply at his screen. It is Saturday night, or, technically, Sunday morning, and he forgot this was the day Sakamoto was supposed to meet with the guys. He wasn’t sleeping, instead watching TV and munching on dried seaweed – taking care of his health like a model citizen – when his phone pinged and he lazily picked it up.

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

Ur such a funny guy Gintoki, hahaaahaha!

“I know, it’s a gift,” He grumbles to his screen and starts typing an answer.

But then his phone pings and vibrates in his hands.

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

Sooooo…… What u tryin to do? Yanno snot surprising it’s a sensitive topic, eh? With him nd Zura

He erases all of his previous words, too eager to correct him on that particular assumption.

yeah no actually they aren’t a thing and have never been

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

???rly??? They live togther? 

Me

just roommates

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

WOOOW, are u telling me……. Are u telingme it’s you and Takasugi who are an actual thing? Yknow what I wonderd bck then! It definitely crossed my mind! Hahaahha!

Me

why are you jumping to all the wrong conclusions?!

you're just totally wasted go to sleep

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

Oh noooooo…. You never shot your shot? 😲

Me

why do you immediately assume this??! look it’s none of what you think and it’s none of your business anyway

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

Kay, u opened my third eye, now I see! I see, I see. Dyou need help with the approach? Hahaha

Me

no!!!! wtf tatsuma 

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

No offence buddy!! But it looks like ur weird mating dance issnt workinhahahaha! So mb u need try sthg more traditional. Like tellim he looks good todayor that u feel privilged to spend so much time with him!

Me

it’s not a mating dance because two men can’t reproduce tatsuma

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

Hahahaha kaykay! Tell him he looks good today!!! N report bck tome 😉

Gintoki sends a sticker of a panda staring dispassionately through the screen like he’s completely done with life and Sakamoto adds a laughing reaction to it.  He puts his phone down on his chest while the movie on TV goes on in the background. He turns his head to look at it. It’s a shitty romantic tragedy he only paid half attention to, falling asleep multiple times during it. Something about an impossible pairing between a rich heiress and a jobless man. It reminded him of Hasegawa. It’s getting to the end and the man in the movie is making a speech in the rain about how he could never make her happy and all he wants is her happiness. Funny how common a plight that is. 

Well, whatever. He picks his phone up again and scrolls through his contacts until he gets to Takasugi’s name. Their last exchange is that panic-inducing ‘this it’ that could have been an ‘I love you’ if Gintoki had been a little less drunk. Everything is so stupid. It’s so incredibly stupid. How did Sakamoto even know where to dig to find this very well-hidden relic from the past? Geez. It was dumb luck, he’s probably not even serious. And isn’t Gintoki the ‘funny guy’ who goes along with those non-serious things? We’ll say that. Anything that could get him out of trouble for the burning curiosity of seeing how well the ‘traditional approach’ can work. 

you know everyone thinks you’re being arrogant when you say you hate pictures because you look good in every single one of them

Their little gathering with Sakamoto probably ended not too long ago because Takasugi is still awake to answer under a minute:

Hikusugi

Stop drunk texting me.

But joke’s on him, Gintoki is taking care of his health and is not drunk at all tonight. Just sleepless and lonely.

do you really think i would be this articulate if i wasn’t sober? i could count to a hundred balancing on one foot right now that’s how sober i am

Hikusugi 

Sure you make big discoveries at 2 AM and want to inform me because you’re very very sobr

Me

it’s not a discovery it’s a well-known fact. and i know you well enough to tell you’re the one who’s not sober right now actually

Hikusugi

Fuck you my mind is very clear

Me

lol i’m sure it is! answering your sworn enemy at 2 am instead of ignoring him

Hikusugi 

I will ignore you now

Me

okay well have a good night and sleep well

Hikusugi 

You too

Me

lol you’re totally drunk

Hikusugi 

No, I’m not. Goodbye.

Me

yes you are

Gintoki starts typing ‘how cute’ but finds himself staring at the words, the bar blinking at the end. Maybe he should consider the consequences of his actions now. Sure, drunk-Takasugi is cute and will probably answer something to that when sober-Takasugi would have just ignored him from the start. But the message history will remain. Sober-Takasugi will remember this and read this. So no matter how tempting it is, he should probably refrain. He erases the message and instead looks through his sticker library, sending a panda lying on his back with an open mouth and a snot bubble, the words ‘sweet dreams’ written above it.

Hikusugi

You’re being nice.

Gintoki stares at the message, taken aback by the simplicity of it. A plain observation, not even a question. He hesitates, types ‘of course’, then erases it, types ‘Tatsuma dictated my actions’ then erases it, and eventually settles for something just as simple.

goodnight

He drops his phone again, this time letting it clatter on the floor next to him. The credits are rolling on the TV, and he stares at the ceiling. His heart is beating hard and sending stressful waves of warmth through his body, down to his tingling fingertips. He remembers now why he’s so rarely nice to Takasugi. Because it’s miserable. Because it makes his loneliness spike up and now he wants to crawl into a hole and die. Because that’s not him, he’s not a nice person, he doesn’t say nice things just for the sake of it.

He shouldn’t do that again.

—

He obviously never reports back to Sakamoto. It doesn’t stop the man from pestering him for the entire week.

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

Soooooo? — 10:34

It’s alright Kintoki, I believe in you!! — 11:51

Do you need an example word for word? It’s better if you’re the only ones in the room! Then seize your chance and say: “by the way, you look nice today” — 12:09

Me

it’s work and he looks the same as usual it’s completely meaningless — 14:05

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

No it’s the perfect opportunity to add “as always”!! 😉👍 — 14:05

“You look nice as always” — 14:33

Kintokiiiii have some faith! — 16:12

I’m guessing you said nothing today? 😭 — 17:36

It’s okay, don’t get discouraged! You’ll get a better opportunity next time!! 👍 — 18:01

Hellooooo, how is your quest coming along today?? 😁 — 11:22

That was their exchange on Monday. The rest of the week went on approximately in the same way. Sakamoto inquiring about his progress, then sending tons of encouragement throughout the day, only to say ‘you’ll get it next time’ when five o’clock hits. On top of it all, Sarutobi self-appoints herself as Hattori’s personal assistant and spends the week at the office, scrutinising Takasugi's every move. Exactly as he asked her not to do. And apart from one awkward moment when their eyes accidentally meet in the printer room, he and Takasugi completely ignore each other. The cherry on top of this miserable cake is when Matsudaira asks him to his office on Friday at ten to five. And he has a growing suspicion this impromptu meeting won’t last ten minutes.

The boss welcomes him with big gestures, a cigar in his mouth, and a worrying grin. And then he gets to the heart of the matter:

“Are you having trouble monitoring your shark, Sakata?” 

Gintoki sighs, slouching in the chair facing Matsudaira’s desk.

“What makes you say that?”

Matsudaira chuckles, hitting his desk once with the palm of his free hand.

“Don’t get burned out yet, boy. I still have hopes for you. I told you he was a tough one, yet you acted with confidence and I decided to believe in you. So, tell me, where did it go wrong?”

Gintoki grimaces. Who does the old man think he is, his therapist? He doesn’t need another person meddling in their– private business. 

“It didn’t go wrong anywhere, he hasn’t gotten in your way since I’ve been here, has he?”

Matsudaira grins, turning on his chair to look out of his huge window.

“Not yet, not yet. See, we often talk about work life encroaching into family life, but rarely the other way around. I am divorced, you know.”

“Sorry to hear that,” He says blandly.

“Yes. It was a difficult time, back then. My daughter was furious. It was the first time I decided to fire most of my men. It felt like bankruptcy was the only thing that could shock me out of this depressive state. And yet, the company survived, and so did I. And here we are, today. You and I, both stronger men than we were before.”

Gintoki stays silent. Is the old man using the divorce metaphor on him too? What kind of rumour made it to his ears? Is he saying what Gintoki thinks he’s saying?

“Yes, uh–”

“Ex-wives can be our greatest adversary, sometimes. But we need to stay focused and aligned with our vision. The future can seem bleak when the one who used to walk by our side leaves, but we can find light all around us when we truly look.”

“Yeah. I mean, that’s a great speech, and I totally agree. Just–”

“You can find your light here,” Matsudaira continues, turning back to him and pointing with his cigar. “As I did.”

“Yay,” He says without enthusiasm.

Matsudaira nods and abruptly stands up, gesturing at him.

“Come! Let’s have a drink together and seize the opportunity to talk business,” Matsudaira says, rubbing his hands together.

“Doctor said I can’t drink.”

“Ahh who cares about what doctors think! Come on,” He urges and lays a heavy hand on his shoulder as he passes by.

Gintoki feels like getting into the shower and wiping his shoulder clean. He stands up, low on energy and enthusiasm, sighing quietly. 

“Yes, yes…”

—

Another week passes before Sakamoto sends him a suspicious message. He stopped taking the pills Tsukuyo prescribed him since his stomach is back to normal already. So he is sitting on his futon, gulping down plain water with his phone raised up to eye level, frowning deeply at it.

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

Are you free this Saturday? Haha!

This is a trap. Deep down he knows it. It’s a weekend, the condition Takasugi set for a meetup. And it’s Sakamoto. The chance he is planning a surprise reunion between them is higher than ninety-nine percent. It’s not like he doesn’t want to go, but he also doesn’t want to go, can anyone understand his dilemma? Not Sakamoto, apparently.

you’re not subtle at all just say takasugi will be there and you’ll lock us in a closet together or something

Sakamoto answers with a sticker of a pink cat laughing to tears.

Sakamoto Tatsuma

Noooooo, I would never! Hahahaha! 

Yes, I invited Takasugi though! Come on, it’s about time you do something

I won’t say anything in case I jinx it, but I’mmm preeeetty sure you don’t risk much by coming on to him, if you know what I mean 😉

Me

no just death

Sakamoto Tatsuma

Hahahahaha! You’re such a funny guy, Kintoki!

I’m sending you the address, be there at 12!

Okay, he can’t lie. He doesn’t not want to go. Just knowing Sakamoto is ‘team Gintoki’ and it will be them both against Takasugi is hilarious enough. It can’t possibly be worse anyway.

— 

It is a lot less funny when he gets to the café Sakamoto indicated on time on Saturday and spots Takasugi there. Alone. Looking at his phone. Gintoki quickly turns around, almost bumping into a teenage girl, and hides in a corner, pulling out his own phone in a panic. He sends Sakamoto three consecutive texts asking where he is and what he’s doing and whether or not he thinks this is funny. He waits one agonising minute before he calls. His friend answers immediately, laughing instead of greeting him.

“Are you insane?!” Gintoki hisses accusingly. “There’s no way I’m going to meet him if you’re not there too!”

“Awww, come on Kintoki, don’t be afraid! It’s just good old Takasugi, haha!”

“I’m not afraid, we just have nothing to say to each other.”

“Nuh-huh! You have something to say! I even gave you the exact words!”

“No. No, no, no, absolutely not.”

“Be brave! Be strong! I believe in you!” Sakamoto shouts in his ear and hangs up before Gintoki can get another word in.

“I swear…” He grumbles and stares at the white screen of his phone. “This guy…”

Gintoki looks up and breathes in slowly through his nose. It definitely isn’t what he expected, but he can’t decently leave without informing Takasugi Sakamoto isn’t coming and it is NOT his fault. He slips his phone back into his pocket and walks out of the alley. There are quite a lot of people out at this hour, and he makes his way to the café slowly, debating internally why he would have to do this. After all, it’s totally Sakamoto’s fault if he stands them up. Takasugi wouldn’t even suspect him, since he wouldn’t be here at all if he knew Gintoki was invited. Well, it’s too late now. 

“Hey,” He greets when he gets to his level and Takasugi looks up.

His face goes from neutral to frowning in under a second. 

“Why are you—” He stops himself mid-sentence and sighs, looking away. “It’s Sakamoto, isn’t it?”

“Yes!” Gintoki exclaims, relieved. “I’m glad you get it and I don’t have to explain. Okay, so in short: he’s not coming. So we can just go home and pretend this never happened, and hate him forever.”

Takasugi says nothing, lifting his phone once more and staring at it for a second. Gintoki awkwardly waits for a confirmation that he’s not willing to fall into that trap either, shifting closer to him to let a group of teenagers get past him. Takasugi steps away, glancing at his phone one last time before muttering:

“Why does he go to such ridiculous lengths for this…”

“I don’t know either. He can’t accept that you hate me now.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Ah, yeah, I guess the fact you don’t want to have anything to do with me must mean you’re actually very fond of me.”

“No, I don’t hate you, I just—...” He gives up on his sentence and sighs instead, an obvious hint of irritation hiding in it. “He wants us to make up, then let’s make up.”

“Pretend?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh. Oh indeed. A million “oh”s. He definitely isn’t prepared for this. Whatever this is. He has already gone through who knows how many stages of grief, what was this for then? The divorce metaphor is suddenly sounding too real. And now his ex-wife wants to talk and fix things? 

“Okay,” He says anyway. 

Depending on what Takasugi means by “making up”, he might need a few drinks to get through this. He sends a mental apology to his stomach and liver both. They don’t deserve this, poor organs. 

“We might as well,” Takasugi says and vaguely indicates the café they are supposed to eat at.

“Great, I was getting hungry.”

Gintoki lets Takasugi go in first and his eyes linger. He’s wearing denim shorts coupled with one of his Japanese style shirts that Gintoki likes seeing him in. This one is black, contrasting well with the bright red patterned flowers taking up most of the left side. This would definitely warrant a “you look nice today” type of comment but Takasugi wouldn’t believe it anyway, because the noticeable layer of sweat on the nape of his neck is sure to make him think he looks terrible. It doesn’t, really. Gintoki looks down at himself as they get inside and the refreshing air-conditioned breeze hits him. He picked his lightest and least uncomfortable clothes today, forgoing style entirely because of the suffocating weather. Which means he’s wearing grey jogger shorts and a white T-shirt with a fading print of two silly cats playing with a red lantern. 

Oh well. Takasugi has seen him in worse states than this. Way worse, unfortunately. 

They are asked to wait a few minutes and silence settles between them. It’s unnatural. If they’re not deliberately ignoring each other anymore, then it’s totally unnatural and the fact Gintoki feels too nervous to say anything is downright scary. He's never hesitated before, what makes this so much more difficult? He finds no answer before they’re ushered to a table. They sit down facing each other, and the threat of another silence makes him open his mouth immediately:

“I’m paying.”

Takasugi freezes while reaching for the menu, meeting his eyes slowly.

“What?”

“What?” Gintoki repeats, not expecting those words to be the ones to get out of his mouth either.

“No you’re not,” Takasugi answers and grabs one menu, scanning it quickly.

“Why not? Are you embarrassed?”

He was definitely ready to go back on his words and bullshit his way out of paying but now that Takasugi told him no, he feels way more competitive than he should. He can pay. He’s an honourable citizen who earns a considerable amount of money now, thank you very much.

“Why would I be embarrassed, you’ll be the one embarrassed when your card gets declined.”

“It won’t get declined, I'm rich now, I’ll have you know.”

“Earning more doesn’t make you magically develop money management skills.”

“Okay, I'm definitely paying,” He says pridefully and picks up the other menu.

“Sure,” Takasugi answers, unconvinced.

Gintoki grumbles an affirmative and looks through the menu. He should probably get the cheapest thing, just to be sure. He did lose quite a bit at the pachinko parlour. Sakamoto picked a relatively respectable European café however, and everything is somewhat pricey. It’s fine. He’s pretty sure he can handle it. He gets pasta and Takasugi orders the same thing. 

“So,” Gintoki prompts, eager to know exactly what they’re doing here.

“So,” Takasugi echoes and frowns right at him. Not a good sign. “Do you understand why I said no to your plan now that you miraculously managed to put it into action?”

“What do you mean, things are going according to your plan, we’re not speaking anymore and everyone thinks we’re some broken up couple.”

“No, things are going according to your plan exactly because everyone thinks we’re—... involved.”

“The worst of both worlds.”

Takasugi sighs and relaxes back in his chair, eyes darting around for a second. Gintoki takes a guess and stands up, declaring he’ll get them water. Which seems to be the right answer when Takasugi nods and thanks him. So far, so good. He comes back to the table with two glasses and a jug of water. The short break removed the tension from the air and Takasugi isn't even frowning anymore when Gintoki fills his glass.

“Did you manage to make Matsudaira think you’re on his side?”

“Yep. A hundred percent. He’s asking me to keep you in check or something.”

“As if you could.”

“Hah…” Gintoki laughs shortly and sends him a playful smirk before he picks up his glass as well. “I definitely can, it’s common knowledge the wife has the husband wrapped around her finger.”

“Stop,” Takasugi growls and drinks his water.

“Did you think you were the wife who had me whipped instead?”

That remark makes him brusquely stop and put his glass down, staring at him with an angry glower. Oh, woops, okay. He better watch his mouth. 

“I didn’t think anything.”

“Okay, okay. Well, whatever he says, I’m a free spirit. I go along with him for the free meals.”

“Right. Both of our plans are completely pointless now anyway.”

“So…” Gintoki tries, a little too hopeful. “You’re not mad anymore?”

“No, but,” And he stresses the word, sending him a warning look. “That doesn’t mean I'm fine with you making everyone think we’re together as if that’s some hilarious prank.”

“Rest assured then, it’s not funny at all,” Gintoki sighs and drinks up half his water.

“No, it’s not. I warned you.”

“No you didn't.”

“Yes I did. I told you it was stupid.”

“Stupid can be fun. A real warning would’ve been: ‘Gintoki I have already experienced what it’s like to have everyone think you’re doing the deed with one of your friends and let me tell you it’s not very funny at all’.”

“You seemed to think otherwise. With how making jokes on me and Zura is one of your favourite past times,” Takasugi grumbles the last part moodily and finishes his glass.

“Speaking of…” Gintoki says quietly and bends forward to whisper: “Did you know Sakamoto thought you were together, too?”

“What? Why?” He asks, clearly irritated.

“Uh, one: he was in the same high school, so he heard the rumours. You two weren’t particularly beating the allegations back then. And two: you live together.”

“No, Zura wasn’t beating the allegations because he is and has always been a moron. And, what, being roommates is too much now?”

“You have to admit there was reason to doubt,” Gintoki shrugs, noticing a waitress arranging their meals in the corner of his eyes.

“No, there’s no reason to doubt.”

“Okay, okay,” Gintoki allows him his peace of mind and raises his hands in surrender.

They get called to the counter to pick up their meals, and this time they both go. The silence comfortably settles as they walk back to their table and both start eating. The conversation was a little tense but overall, he’s relieved they can spend time together. It’s nothing like the easy friendship they had in school, and more and more he’s wondering if he’s the one causing this. He thought Takasugi had changed, that he was more guarded now. But maybe Gintoki changed, too. Because there is definitely something new about the way he feels nervous, almost skittish and scared to say the wrong thing. He doesn’t want to lose him again because of some dumb mistake. And he knows from direct experience how prone he is to making dumb mistakes. 

“You look nice today,” He throws in completely out of the blue. Oh well. It’s Sakamoto's fault for repeating that sentence over and over for the entire week. “That shirt’s pretty stylish.”

Takasugi's reaction is: freezing, staring, opening his mouth and closing it, at a loss for words most probably, clear hesitation. He’s never been good at receiving compliments. And hey, maybe that’s why Gintoki rarely compliments him. Sakamoto is totally wrong and his ‘mating dance’ isn’t weird, it is actually carefully crafted.

“I’m joking, you look terrible.”

And see? Takasugi immediately grows a million times more comfortable when he answers:

“It’ll never be as bad as you.”

“That’s the curse of wavy hair, you’re discriminating against me.”

“No, it— suits you,” Takasugi says with a discrete stutter and Gintoki blinks, tempted to pinch himself to make sure this is reality.

They hold each other’s gaze for a brief second before Takasugi looks down at his plate and resumes eating as if everything was normal. Well everything is definitely not normal. For one, Gintoki thinks his heart actually skipped a beat. It was a pretty awkward compliment, and yet. Yeah that was a skipped beat alright. Is he—...? No way. (Are they flirting?) This is the first time Takasugi has responded positively to his jokes since July when he first arrived. Gintoki has strong suspicions it was his texting at 2 AM that did it. Which means something absolutely terrible: Sakamoto might be right. 

“Ah,” He finds himself just as lost for words as Takasugi was when he complimented him, scratching his hair.

“That was a joke. You’re right, wavy hair is ugly.”

Gintoki laughs, amazed at how he is finally seeing glimpses of how they used to be. Or at least, how he used to feel around Takasugi. At ease, relaxed, without the constant vigilance sticking to his skin. Like he is facing someone who understands him for the first time in his life. The most amazing is when Takasugi meets his eyes for the shortest of moment and smiles back before immediately looking away.

Yeah. They understand each other. He doesn’t need to watch his words or listen to Sakamoto’s advice. It’s Takasugi. He knows perfectly well how they slot together like two puzzle pieces. Gintoki eats with a lot more enthusiasm, feeling like a child on his birthday. 

His card doesn’t even get declined at the end, and he spends the rest of the day energised and unnaturally motivated. 

Chapter Text

On Monday, Gintoki wakes up in a good mood. Everything can finally be the way it was supposed to be, he can finally speak with Takasugi like normal and stop walking on eggshells. 

As normal as Takasugi-at-work is, that is, because he barely answers Gintoki’s enthusiastic greeting, glued to his screen with a wrinkle between his brows. Which makes Gintoki eager to bother him, but also afraid to make him regret agreeing to officially make up. Gintoki even went as far as to notify Sakamoto with a very theatrical text. (To which the man replied that the next step is a confession, but he won’t mention that.)

Still, he can’t help himself.

“Why are you still so cold towards me?” He asks dramatically, resting a hand on his desk and leaning forward. “What else do I need to do?”

“What?” Takasugi mutters, eyes still on his screen until they drift to him for a second. “I’m working right now, wait for a bit.”

“Wait how long? A flower can’t spend too much time in the dark, you know.”

“Until break, when I'll be free,” He answers bluntly before adding: “I can bet you don’t have anything important to say anyway, so please just let me do my job and go entertain yourself somewhere else.”

“It’ll be your fault if I wither and die.”

“Sure.”

When he lifts his head to resume walking, all eyes are on them. Kijima quickly looks away and coughs, Kondo hesitates between a hesitant smile and his kicked-puppy look of worry, Takechi stares a hole into his head as usual and Kawakami is— well, Gintoki doesn’t know how Kawakami is looking at him because he still has his dumb sunglasses on. The only one not staring is Zenzou, head resting on his palm while he scrolls on his laptop. 

So truly nothing has changed. Setting things right is still insanely troublesome and Takasugi dislikes this situation so even though he is calm right now, he risks snapping at him any moment. And changing his mind. And ignoring him again. This weekend, Gintoki was so sure everything was fixed. He spent his Sunday with the boundless energy of a child, happy at life, wondering at the beauty of the sky and the feeling of the wind. But maybe he got ahead of himself. Just a little. 

Because there’s still something big left to fix.

–

“Dump him.”

“Why?!” He yells indignantly, slamming his hand on the picnic table. “It’s my fault everyone suspects now, he’s entitled to being a little angry!”

“No!” Sarutobi denies sharply, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “You deserve only the best, Gin-san! He can be angry, but he should be talking about it calmly instead of hurting you and cheating on you!”

In retrospect, deciding on Sarutobi to find some comfort isn’t the brightest idea he’s ever had. But Sarutobi is crazy, and that comes in handy when he wants to blatantly lie and complain about his non-existent relationship with Takasugi. Sarutobi always buys all of his lies without question, so she naturally appeared as the best option.

“He’s not cheating, stop with that.”

“How do you call this, then?!” She screams and frantically scrolls through her phone while Gintoki sighs loudly.

She then slams it on the table right in front of him, screen facing up. On it is yet another picture of Takasugi with Kawakami at his side, this time with Takasugi sitting behind his computer screen and Kawakami bending over to look at it.

“Working,” Gintoki answers plainly and slides the phone back to her.

“You are blinded by love, Gin-san!” She says and grabs her phone. “He doesn’t deserve you! If he truly loved you, he wouldn’t be angry about people knowing, he would be proud!”

“No, you psycho, it has nothing to do with pride. I don’t want people to know, either, okay? It’s no one’s business, they can just keep staring and guessing for all I care. But Takasugi doesn’t like that, so I should fix it, but there’s no way I can…”

“Gin-san, he isn’t good for you, all he does is make you feel bad!”

“That’s not true! I always have fun with him. And– well, there are people who just make you feel safe, for no other reason than being who they are.”

Sarutobi gasps and Gintoki starts to regret what he just admitted to when she urgently bends forward, almost lying on the table.

“Are you talking about me??”

“What?! No! Are you even following the conversation?!”

She huffs and sits back down, crossing her arms.

“I am. I hear that you are lovesick. And I mean that. Love sick. It’s a sickness, Gin-san, nothing more than an addiction. It feels good in the moment, but the rest of the time it is miserable. Deep down you know you should quit, and yet you deny the harm it does to you and keep coming back. He is your poison.”

“He’s not my poison,” He answers nonchalantly to her speech.

He stretches his arms over his head and sighs in contentment when he feels his bones crack.

“No, no, listen to me!” Sarutobi screeches and slams both of her hands on the wood. “He is being completely unfair and unreasonable! Yet you don’t care! You say it’s your fault! It’s not your fault he is a crappy boyfriend!”

“Did you not listen to a single word I said? He wouldn’t be like that if our relationship status was still a total secret. And that’s on me.”

“Yes, because you love him, and he clearly doesn’t love you back!!” She yells, slamming her right palm against the table once more.

“He clearly does!” Gintoki screams back at her, getting annoyed on fake-Takasugi’s behalf and how much she’s slandering him. “You don’t know what happens behind closed doors, okay?!”

“Well, how come he never stays at the office after work with you?! You never visit him either! I never see you out on dates! Gin-san, open your eyes, he’s neglecting you! And CHEATING!” She yells once again and shoves her phone under his eyes. “THEY go out on dates!!”

He squints his eyes at the bright screen, showing a picture of Kawakami and Takasugi sitting at a café with a few papers coating the table. Takasugi is looking down at the one closest to him, craning his neck a little. He’s in work clothes, nothing new on the horizon. But what catches Gintoki’s attention is the other man, who’s not wearing sunglasses for once. Because he is staring right at Takasugi with a smile on his face. 

Okay. He has never been worried about Takasugi’s feelings for Kawakami, but he also hasn't spent too long thinking about it the other way around. It should have been obvious though. So, maybe Kawakami indeed has a bit of a crush. Big deal. Nothing special. Takasugi is a handsome man after all. Yep.

“See?!” Sarutobi insists when he takes too much time to deny her claim.

“No,” He answers and pushes her phone away from his face, glancing one last time at Kawakami’s soft expression. “Your stalking is subpar at best, because we go on plenty of dates. Stop trying to break us up, you’re depressing me. Be useful for once. How do I make everyone think we’re just friends?”

She stares right at him and puts her phone down on the table.

“Gin-san, it’s easy.”

“Okay?”

“Pretend to date me.”

“No.”

“Why not?!” She yells once again. “I would be the most believable of them all! I would bring you bentos at lunch and chocolates on Valentine's day!”

“No thank you! And anyway, I'm not doing anything that could make Takasugi feel bad. So no pretending to date someone else. Do you see now? It’s a difficult problem, and I need intelligent people to solve it. Maybe I was wrong to think you made the cut.”

She sighs and crosses her arms, lifting her chin to heal her wounded pride.

“Well, it’s the only way. These kind of rumours are impossible to shake off otherwise, because people will keep seeing what they want to see no matter what you do.”

“Think harder then.”

“Hmm…” She brings a hand to her chin and frowns down at the wood of the table. Then she lifts her head and meets his eyes. “What is the issue?”

“I’m wasting my time—”

“No! Wait! What is the issue? What makes him so angry anyway? Has anyone said anything? Done anything? Did the boss refuse to give him a promotion for this?”

“Kinda. But Takasugi’s probably more worried about what could happen than what is currently happening, you know.”

“Then he’s a fool.”

“Oi.”

“It’s true!! Gin-san, it’s how cheaters think! He thinks too far ahead and dooms the relationship before it’s even begun, so he thinks, since future-Gin-san will break his heart anyway, he might as well kill the relationship now, and boom! He cheats, that bastard!”

“You’re useless,” Gintoki sighs and gathers his empty plastic bento box before standing up. 

“I’m opening your eyes!” She screeches and slams both of her palms on the table. “Gin-san, listen to me! He’s just a dirty cheater!”

“No, he's not, and we’ll be very happy together for the rest of our lives, okay?!” He screams back as he walks away, pointing one last finger in her direction before facing back forward.

Sarutobi yells back something and he isn’t listening, too busy stopping dead in his tracks as he spots Hijikata standing idle in the dirt path with a plastic bag in his hand, looking at him strangely. Why did he decide to take his lunch break outside? Why did he come here, in this specific park, on this specific day? One more person to correct to add to the list, then. 

“It’s not what you think,” He immediately denies.

The other man frowns and huffs, seemingly broken out of his frozen state as he starts walking again.

“Your personal life’s none of my concern.”

“Gin-san!!” Sarutobi screams, now standing up on the bench of the table. Gintoki’s eyes widen in a panic, switching between the nonchalant man walking past him and the crazy woman on the table. “I will be there when your heart breaks!!”

He almost sighs in relief at the normalcy – Sarutobi-standard normalcy – of her last claim. He yells back one of his usual come-backs about how insane she is and finally walks away, pressing his steps. Alright. Sarutobi is permanently crossed out from the list of people who can help with the issue. He better remember this. Even if it might be tempting sometimes to pretend he and Takasugi are together just to vent out his frustrations. He shouldn't do it again.

—

“What do I do, Madao? He’ll break up with me at this rate,” He complains in a dramatic sigh one day later during his morning visit in Hasegawa’s office.

Frustrations need to be vented, alright? Don’t blame him for this.

“I’m sorry Gin-san… I don’t think I can give good advice…” The man says quietly, slumped in his desk chair.

“Yeah, you’re not a shining example of a husband, but still,” Gintoki insists, pulling at the lever under his chair to incline it as far as it will go. “I’m your patient today.”

“Haha… Well, um. Have you spent time with him lately?”

“Just one lunch. It was our make-up date I think.”

“Did it go well?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Well. That’s good.”

“Mhm.”

“Erm… Did he tell you what he expects of you?”

“Yeah, he expects me not to distract him at work and not make everyone suspect there’s something going on between us.”

“Oh, it is easily achievable.”

“What are you saying, of course it’s not! Does he expect me to pretend he’s not there for the entire day and then we’ll clandestinely meet during the weekends? Is that what I'm supposed to look forward to?! It’s ridiculous.”

“Um, well, what do you wish for then, Gin-san?”

“I want to be able to bother him whenever I want to.”

“But this is work. You shouldn't bother him during work time.”

“Which side are you on?” Gintoki grumbles and crosses his arms, lying on his improvised therapy couch. “I’m not asking for much, actually. Just a look, or a smile, or a few words. But he’s always so absorbed in whatever he’s doing, he spends more time with his business partners than with me.”

“Yeah… Family life always suffers from our commitment to the company…”

“It’s different for you,” Gintoki opens his eyes and pulls his chair back into a sitting position with a clank. “It’s just this shitty place and people whispering about him. Maybe I should quit, but if I do then I'll become his Hatsu.”

“H-hey… Hatsu is a good wife.”

“There is nowhere else in the world where I could get such a good salary and a place to live for free,” Gintoki continues, ignoring his last remark. “But is it really going to come down to this? I quit and make him happy, or I stay and risk making him hate me again.”

“You should choose him, Gin-san.”

“Yeah, yeah, romantics would agree. Life isn’t like that though, we both know what homelessness is, and I'm not gambling it on how much one person likes me. No, this place needs to change, you know what. I understand why the boss wipes everything clean every once in a while. Let’s send all the sheeps to the slaughterhouse.”

“W-what are you talking about…?”

“Nothing,” He denies and wonders what it would take to convince Matsudaira to fire everyone once again.

Probably a few billion yen. The company could survive anything with that. Gintoki blinks at the ceiling and ignores Hasegawa’s quiet reassurance that he will work something out. A project so big it takes over the country could earn them that much. And then, in celebration, everyone gets fired. Farewell, rumours. Farewell, Takasugi's bad mood. 

No matter what anyone says, he has to get involved.

—

“I have an idea,” He tells Takasugi as he rolls a chair to his desk and sits next to him.

“It’s a no.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself, it’s an excellent idea.”

“What is it even about?”

“The project, of course. Look, we’re securing the interest of manga nerds and idol nerds, but you know what the majority of the population is composed of?”

“Old people.”

“... I was going to say ‘normal people’ but you’re not wrong, actually.”

“If you’re going to suggest we tackle TV programs as well, I have already thought about it and I’ve concluded it won’t work,” Takasugi says bluntly as if he didn’t just guess Gintoki’s plan and crushed his hopes in the same sentence, eyes still on his screen as he copies and paste lines of nonsense. 

“Why not?” He asks and crosses his arms.

“Because we don’t have the necessary power of influence, and we’re running low on time and resources. Otsuu can get the Justaway some TV screentime within her niche, it will have to do.”

“I can get you influence.”

Takasugi stops what he is doing and turns his head slowly, meeting his eyes with a very unimpressed expression.

“Really. How?”

“You’ll see,” He grins and rolls his chair away, satisfied with his performance. “I got you an idol manager and a manga editor, didn’t I? Don’t doubt me,” He stops for a second as something Kondo said comes back to him, hesitating only for a moment before he quotes: “Good things happen when we work together, you know.”

Takasugi sighs deeply and turns away, muttering:

“Get me someone high up on the food chain, and I'll see what I can do.”

“You got it,” He says with a grin as he rolls his chair away.

“And while you’re at it, tell your purple girlfriend the truth. I’m growing tired of her low-quality surveillance.”

“She’s not my—” Gintoki starts to protest and stops himself, catching Takasugi’s following smile from his profile. He has always been particularly fond of giving other people a taste of their own medicine. Alright, okay, he gets his point. “Anyway, if I tell her the truth then she’ll stalk me again. Put your evil mind to use please, get rid of her.”

“That will get me behind bars.”

Gintoki laughs frankly, hitting Takasugi's chair playfully.

“Are you trying to sound cool? Ohh, my dark hero vigilante, save me.”

“Shut up. I’ll think of something.”

“Thank you~” He says with an exaggerated lilt and resumes his rolling away.

No matter how jokingly he said it, Gintoki is filled with that unnatural buzzing happiness at the thought Takasugi will genuinely try to do something for him. Granted, he is definitely doing it for himself as well, but! He stands up and leaves the chair behind the unoccupied desk behind Takasugi's and smiles to himself. But, still, Takasugi agreed to do something for him. And to think just a week ago they were treating each other as strangers! Leaps and bounds, just as he thought. Just patience. They’re totally puzzle pieces slotted together or something like that, no need for anything, fate is doing its job. If something is meant to happen, then it will happen, and he’s not required to do anything special like everyone is — wrongly — assuming. 

The moment he is back in his office, he makes call after call, going through his entire contact list until he finally gets a ‘wait, I might know someone’ and he grins widely. 

—

There is no coldness and no anger when he interrupts a meeting between Takasugi, Kawakami and Takechi to glue his face to the glass and point at his phone screen with a huge smile on his face. He doesn’t get chastised or yelled at, instead Takasugi gestures for him to get inside the room and Gintoki gets to present his results, namely:

“A weather girl…” Kawakami repeats thoughtfully while Takasugi is busy reading the texts Gintoki exchanged with one ‘Seito’. Or was it ‘Seimu’? Whatever it was.

“Not just any weather girl,” Gintoki corrects with the raise of a finger. “Ketsuno Ana! She’s the best, she always brings a smile to my face.”

“She’s average when it comes to popularity,” Takasugi comments, switching his attention to his computer and Takechi bends sideways to look at his laptop screen over his shoulder. While he is still holding Gintoki's phone for all to view, by the way.

“Don’t wave that around,” He says in alarm and makes grabby hands towards his phone.

“Why not?” Takasugi answers and looks back at the smaller screen. “Are you still touchy about whatever's in there?”

“Yeah yeah, give it back here,” He asks moodily and Takasugi obliges without complaint.

Fortunately. There is some compromising stuff in there after all. Like Sakamoto’s last text that suggests some settings and lines for a successful love confession, just to name one. Or Sarutobi’s insane serial texting about how Takasugi is no good. Hell, even Hasegawa's drunk ‘I hope you will succeed where I failed Gin-san’ is compromising enough. And that’s without mentioning his search history. Let’s not even go there. Anyway. Plenty of stuff he’d rather keep confidential.

“A weather reporter is an ideal pick, I daresay,” Kawakami finally comments. “It has the most varied viewership.”

“Yeah, it’s good she’s not one of the most popular actually. We’d risk overlapping with the idol crowd.”

“Hey, fans of weather girls have nothing in common with the crazies that drool over idols,” Gintoki says defensively, locking his screen and slipping his phone in his pocket.

“It’s practically the same thing,” Takasugi denies without even a look, typing a few words on his laptop. “It attracts the same crowds. Anyway, good job for starting a conversation with this guy, but it’s already looking like he’ll be hard to negotiate with.”

“Yes, I was thinking that, too,” Takechi nods. “He is asking too many questions about the project while he should know we cannot go around sharing details with just anyone.”

“Yeah, definitely the protective kind. What’s their relation?” Takasugi asks and raises his eyes towards him, pausing in his typing.

Gintoki shrugs.

“Dunno, I just got his first name and number from a friend of mine.”

“Hmm,” He looks back at his screen and types only a few words, scrolls a few times with the touchpad and Gintoki watches his eyes roam the screen, reading line after line. Would anyone blame him for thinking he’s the most charming when focused and in his element? Yeah no. It’s just damn common sense. “Brother, I suppose,” He concludes after a minute or two.

“It makes sense,” Kawakami says and rolls his chair back and forth, tapping his foot to some inexistant music. “It could be tough to convince him if that’s the case. He might not agree unless he knows every single detail, Shinsuke.”

“I can work with that,” He answers with the quiet confidence Gintoki has always admired him for, not even looking at anyone as he clicks and scrolls a few times. Then his eyes raise once more and Gintoki could swear that time stops for a moment when he meets his gaze. There is one long second of hesitation before Takasugi simply says: “Thanks.”

“Um, yeah,” He answers awkwardly, and that is very weird in and of itself. Well. It’s true they don’t often do each other favours, but he shouldn't be so— what, shy? No. Seriously. He is feeling shy?! No, that can’t be it. It’s just a strange situation to be in, being thanked by Takasugi. “I mean, I told you I'd do it. So, yeah, of course.”

And now he made it more awkward by trying to make it less awkward. 

“Yes,” Takasugi says, also awkwardly. What a pair of losers they are. “You did.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Gintoki asks, too eager to leave this weird dimension they have entered where they don’t know how to interact normally when they’re nice to each other. “I tell him to speak with the manager?”

“Hm… He seems like the serious type. He won’t answer to your “special” charisma very well. It’s better that I take over as soon as possible, yes.”

“My special charisma won you, a serious type, over. So—” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence with the death glare Takasugi throws his way. Neither Takechi nor Kawakami react in any way, acting as if he didn’t say anything at all. Alright. He already told himself to tone down the teasing. And the flirting. And the fact he keeps saying things that make everyone think they’re a thing. Which then causes death glares like this. Why does he never learn? 

“—... I’m joking. It was a joke.”

“Give him my number, my name, and my position,” Takasugi says and looks back to his screen as if nothing happened. “Make it as formal and official as possible.”

“You want to write it yourself?” Gintoki offers and takes his phone out, laying it down on the table.

Takasugi blinks at the device and Gintoki is pleased to have taken him by surprise. He doesn’t often trust people enough to delegate, but he has watched him learn to do that more and more ever since he became project manager. Which, he knows, is not something Takasugi likes doing. He would rather spend an entire night doing the workload of three people than trust anyone to do things properly. 

“Yes,” He answers quietly and Gintoki grins as he unlocks his phone and slides it over to him. 

“Woops, wait,” He stands up and grabs his phone again to specifically open the messaging window of— Seimei, yes, that was it, and make sure Takasugi’s eyes won’t linger on any other message he received recently. “There you go.”

Takasugi's response is a short snort as he accepts Gintoki’s offered phone.

“I wasn’t going to spy.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

“It’s not like you have much dignity to lose anyway.”

“You’re just jealous. Now be quiet and write your perfect message.”

“Jealous of what…” Takasugi mutters but starts typing anyway.

Gintoki keeps quiet and lets him do his thing. His eyes wander to Takechi, who is staring at his laptop screen with unblinking eyes. Is he seriously watching anime during a meeting with Takasugi? He must have a death wish. His eyes roam to Takasugi’s other side where Kawakami sits. It’s annoying how he’s always wearing sunglasses. Gintoki is pretty sure the man is staring longingly at Takasugi but he can’t be sure. And then his head shifts, and Gintoki finds himself staring at the darkness of tinted glass. He raises his eyebrows, sending a mental what. The other man just cocks his head curiously. Weirdo. He’s pretty confident he has won this round of “who’s Takasugi's favourite”, so he’s willing to let it slide and not go further into insulting territory with Kawakami. Mental insulting, of course. No way he’ll screw things up with the oh-so-important business partner. Ah, look, he’s becoming bitter again. So he smiles at him instead, to cover up the negative thoughts. Kawakami just nods. Well, what is that supposed to mean? What kind of conversation are they even having? What a weirdo.

He looks back at Takasugi, impatient to get his phone back so he can distract himself from this awkward silence that he and Kawakami are filling with a miming show reserved for the crazies. 

“Are you done?”

“No.”

“Okay…”

And in spite of the rounds of insults and kicking and spitting Gintoki has done in his head with this guy as prime victim, Kawakami stands up and says they could go get coffee in the meantime. This is the ultimate proof that he’s not reading his thoughts. Gintoki follows him out with a light “sure”, certain that his act is foolproof. It’s stupid anyway, this guy hasn’t done anything to him apart from… Well. Let’s not go there. Let’s not think about it. Everyone else is already doing the “thinking about it” for him. Take Sakamoto for example, it’s all he ever talks about! 

They turn a corner and Kawakami stops to ask him if there is a coffee machine closer to here than the open space on the third floor, so Gintoki leads him to the break room just three doors to their left. See? He’s totally harmless. Just a boring guy who wants to talk about facts and business all day. A woman exits the room with a cup of tea right as they enter, and Gintoki is disappointed to see no one else is inside. Because Kawakami is a boring guy. So he goes to the coffee machine in silence, asks Kawakami what he wants, and puts a cup in position as he presses the start button.

“I have heard you and Shinsuke knew each other before you both worked here.”

Gintoki watches the start button blink in red twice before turning green and rattling the machine to life. He twists his mouth in displeasure.

“Yeah. Have you also heard the one about how he trashed this place and made half the workforce quit because they feared for their lives?”

“Yes. Did he?”

“No. People are people, they blow things out of proportion all the time,” He says moodily and grabs the filled cup to offer it to Kawakami.

“Thank you. I suspected that might not be true.”

“Then you’re smarter than ninety percent of the people who work here.”

He makes a coffee for himself as well, staring stubbornly at the stream of coffee trickling down instead of at the other man.

“So, how did you know each other?”

“What?” He asks, trying to play dumb.

“You and Shinsuke. You work together and live together. Although, as I understand it, it’s not the case anymore? However true that is, it was still a considerably big amount of time spent together.”

“Yeah. No. Not really,” He says vaguely, unwilling to engage. 

He grabs his cup when his coffee is ready, nonchalantly walking to the high table where Kawakami is resting, coffee in hand and expression still hidden by those stupid sunglasses. Despite it, he doesn’t look phased at all, and the silence stretches as he stops the questioning and brings his coffee to his lips.

“Shall we go back, then?”

Gintoki agrees quickly and leads the way out, relieved the conversation didn’t go into “are-you-two-dating” territory. It almost did. He’s not a mind-reader and Kawakami makes it extra hard with those sunglasses but there is no way he wasn’t fishing for some information on Takasugi's love life. Which is—... Doesn’t that all but confirm what he suspected all along? Gintoki lets the realisation sink in as he walks in front, crossing the corridor. It is… Well. It is something. It is something for sure. He doesn’t like how “something” it is. There’s idly considering it a possibility, and then there’s being quizzed to figure out if Takasugi is single. He feels weird about it. Here is another symptom to add to that love sickness Sarutobi mentioned. The fact everything points in the same glaring direction makes his stomach twist and he quickens his pace, hurriedly making it back into the meeting room.

When he crosses the doorway with his coffee in hand, he finds Takasugi and Takechi both staring at the laptop, quietly talking. His phone rests in front of the chair he left vacant, screen up and black, locked. 

“You didn’t snoop?” Is the first thing out of his mouth as he grabs it, distantly anxious.

“No,” Takasugi says, his tone final and annoyed like when Gintoki wrongly accused him of cheating in games back when they were teenagers. 

He smiles, a wave of unsettling tenderness washing over him. Damn. One more symptom. Curiosity gets the better of him and he immediately unlocks his phone, going to his message history to check what Takasugi took so long to write. Without much surprise, it is a very simple and to-the-point text giving out his name, position and contact information. Gintoki holds back a laugh, refraining from commenting on it.

“How is the thumbnail coming along?” Kawakami asks and walks to the two other men to get a look at the laptop.

“I’ll let you be the judge,” Takasugi says and rolls his chair away to let Kawakami take his place besides Takechi.

Gintoki watches them, how comfortable they are with each other. How fast they became friends, the collaboration easy and smooth. Back when they were teenagers, Katsura also said something along those lines to him, that Takasugi doesn’t usually make friends fast with anyone. That Gintoki is an exception somehow. He shrugged it off then, secretly pleased yet not dwelling on it. Looks like he’s not the sole exception anymore, and that annoys him. Yep. Alright. Whatever. Everyone is right, okay, he’ll admit it. That’s petty jealousy at play, and it is there because—... Because he might really be in love with Takasugi, after all.

His eyes land on him once more, almost feeling shy. Takasugi is focused on his own laptop, scrolling slowly with the touchpad. And as though he can feel Gintoki’s gaze on him, he looks up. Oh that’s a skipped beat. That’s— no. Is there even a word for how much this second of eye contact makes him feel? He stands up abruptly, announcing he’ll get back to work and let them figure things out with the weather girl. 

He’s an asshole. Not just a dumbass, but a bastard too. It’s not anything new, he knows. It’s just the next step on the lovesickness ladder. But then how fucking long has he been on that ladder? Was everything he did motivated by—....? Nah. No. He almost runs in the corridor, heart beating a panicked rhythm. There’s no way that’s it. There’s just no way that’s it.

Chapter Text

One chapter later, Gintoki is still an asshole. No, sorry, that hasn’t changed. He didn’t go to sleep and wake up a brand new man, with a lot more virtue and a determination to make things right. No. In fact, he has decided to bury his head back into the sand. It’s better for his health. He isn’t even sorry for the audience who has been waiting for twelve chapters to see his character development. He has no character development, alright? He’s a stagnant, boring old man, and no one should ever expect anything from him. See, he shouldn't have wanted for things to change or ‘go back to normal’ with Takasugi, ignoring each other is part of their ‘normal’. Why was he so intent on this to change? Ignoring each other is perfectly fine, and actually, it’s what he needs right now. A break away from all this nonsense. 

The first step is blocking Sakamoto’s number when he dares text him about Takasugi once again. 

The second step is changing the subject each time Hasegawa asks about Takasugi. 

The third step is going out to lunch with Matsudaira and get drunk while laughing together at every single resume he got in his mail. 

The fourth step is replacing his growing addiction to bars with an addiction to pachinko parlours. For his health, you see, he was starting to feel cramps again.

Takasugi doesn’t even try to get his attention once during all of this. He had a few qualms about figuratively dumping him out of the blue, but it turns out he doesn’t care. Neither of them do, and that’s perfect. The only time he reaches out is when he sends Gintoki an email asking about an expense claim Takechi made a week ago. The man sneaked in a few personal purchases while shopping for office supplies. Like anime posters. And Gintoki is certain Takasugi wouldn’t have cared one bit if his budget wasn’t tightened each week by the big boss. But it is, and so Takechi got punished via death glare and silent treatment. That was funny, and Gintoki felt a ping of remorse when the need to involve himself and tease Takasugi arose. But then it went away, as it should, and life went on. As it should. 

Days turn into weeks and the Takasugi issue isn’t even brought up once. Miraculously, Sarutobi leaves him alone — and he’s sure Takasugi did that, but he’s certainly not thinking about it — and he starts considering that maybe it was all in his head: the stares, the rumours, the elephant in the room. Maybe there was never any elephant in the room, and he was just being paranoid. Him and Takasugi both. Maybe no one actually thinks there is anything going on between them, pfft, of course there isn’t. Of course it’s all light-hearted banter. Even when Kawakami bluntly asks ‘do you two have history’ when they’re both waiting at the coffee machine.

He’s totally unbothered, picking up a clean mug from the cupboard. The nerve of that guy. Acting as if he didn’t just launch the nuclear weapon on him.

“With who?” Gintoki asks nonchalantly, staring ahead.

Yeah, playing dumb is the deadliest thing he has to compete with this level of aggression.

“Shinsuke.”

Alright, maybe he is up against a greater adversary than he first thought. One, the man is still unperturbed, looking for a spoon in the drawer, and two, his use of Takasugi's first name is as annoying as ever and Gintoki is sure he’s doing it on purpose. 

“Who? I don't know him.”

“I will take your lack of answer as an affirmative.”

“It’s dangerous to think a lack of ‘no’ is a ‘yes’, you know.”

“Perhaps the question is too complicated to simply be answered by yes or no, then.”

“Or maybe people don’t like when you butt in their private business, just a thought.”

“Perhaps that, too.”

“Okay,” Gintoki concludes moodily and hastily picks up his full mug, fleeing the room.

“The launch is set for September,” Kawakami says idly as Gintoki leaves.

“Right, right…”

—

September is in a week. It’s all Gintoki thinks about these days. The world will drown in Justaway in a week and he’s not ready to see it happen. Kawakami's stupid question pops back in his head at least once a day, too. ‘Do you have history’ gyah gyah, is he too cowardly to use real words like “exes” or what? He doesn’t want to think about it anymore. He’s going insane. So what if he likes Takasugi? It doesn’t change anything. His time is better spent organising after-works and sending out poll after poll about the stupidest things he can think of. It even made Hijikata barge into his office in a rage that one time he made a poll about which condiment is the best and sent everyone the results. It turns out people prefer ketchup to mayonnaise. What a scandal. He accused him of treachery and went on and on about a conspiracy to make the cafeteria lower its mayonnaise supply. 

He always tries to guess Takasugi’s answers in the mass of anonymous responses. Sometimes it’s easy, sometimes it’s tough as hell. This really is a disease. And diseases have no business feeling this bittersweet. It’s a curse. A nightmare. 

He’s going insane.

—

Five days to go.

“September, eh? Hah! And here I thought they wouldn’t make it.”

Matsudaira gulps down his beer as if it were water and Gintoki watches him dispassionately, head resting on his palm.

“I told you not to underestimate him.”

“Yes, yes, so you have said. Multiple times. I get it already! You think he deserves my spot, eh?” The older man asks with a smirk, pointing at him with the index finger from the hand still holding his glass.

“Dunno. I don’t think he’d like being CEO, actually.”

“Ahh, young love,” Matsudaira says under his breath, tilting his glass down to get the last drops.

Gintoki freezes for a second. Well, of course. Of course of course. Obviously. He cannot escape it, it is everywhere he goes, everywhere he looks, everywhere he—... He is going completely insane.

“What was that?” He asks loudly, dropping his hand to the table.

He’s sick of it. He is so utterly sick of it. It’s not funny, it was never funny, and he wants to go back in time and strangle his past self for making his life so fucking miserable.

“Nothing!” Matsudaira laughs and leaves his glass on the table, sliding it to the edge for the waiters to take it away. “I admit I got worried when I heard you resolved your little squabble, but I see you’re still capable of doing the right thing. It’s good! Your presence does make him more malleable, I was doubtful at first, but it’s true! Forgive me, boy, my generation is not used to these things. Wahaha!”

“We’re not together,” He says clearly, and Matsudaira stops laughing gradually.

In the badly lit room they reserved for this evening, the old man’s eyes shine with a barely-there conscious glint, battling the heavy fog of alcohol.

“What?” He asks dumbly.

“We’re. Not. Together,” Gintoki repeats, enunciating each word in annoyance. “Not a couple. Never been. Nothing. Barely even friends, actually.”

Matsudaira stares right at him with his barely conscious glint, and long seconds pass. Then he blinks, nods his head, and reaches a hand to pat Gintoki’s own.

“It’s okay, my boy. I have nothing against people like you.”

“No, I mean it. We’re not together.”

“Yes, yes, it will be our little secret. Though it’s not very secret, heh…”

“No, you don’t understand—”

He spends the rest of the evening yelling at a laughing Matsudaira that no, really, he is not in a not-so-secret relationship with Takasugi.

—

Four days to go.

Isn’t there a song about how ‘hell is a place on earth with you’? That’s how it feels every time he comes and goes in the open space and sees a mop of black hair in the left corner. No matter how much he tries to think of something else, every time he sees him the floodgates open once more and he remembers every single thing he has ever said or done that makes the ‘you like him, dumbass’ button light up bright red in his head. It’s embarrassing. Mortifying. The worst. ‘The next step is a confession’, my ass. It’s all Sakamoto's fault. 

He refuses to think about it, dammit. At least they’re friends, isn’t that good enough? Seeing how he reacts to the possibility of Takasugi ever being with someone else, clearly no, it’s not enough. What if he sabotages his romantic prospects for the rest of forever then? Great plan, yeah, of course. Make him even more miserable than you already make him, of course, brilliant. What is wrong with him? 

—

Three days to go.

The open space is buzzing with stressful energy these days. Kijima is running left and right, Kondo is taking phone call after phone call and looks panic-stricken at every word said to him. Takechi isn’t even watching anime anymore, Hasegawa shows up every other hour and Sarutobi is yelling at Hattori non-stop. Only Kawakami and Takasugi are calm, going about their business as usual. 

Gintoki decides to add fuel to the fire by sending a poll to the entire company that only reads: ‘in your opinion, will the Justaway project be a hit or a miss?’

Kijima yells at him. Takasugi only rewards his effort with a challenging stare. The majority votes ‘hit’ anyway, unsurprisingly. 

—

Two days to go.

Time is going by so slowly now that the deadline is approaching. He’s not part of this project and yet he’s starting to feel the stress himself. It’s his child, after all. His creation. His baby. It has his eyes and everything, it will be a huge injury to his ego if it fails. The only failsafe they have is having Takasugi as project manager, him and his pathological hatred of failure. So if it fails, Gintoki is sure the man will go to any lengths necessary to make it un-fail. Which is equal parts reassuring and worrying. But isn’t that Takasugi in a nutshell?

—

One day to go.

Did he say the open space was buzzing with stressful energy before? How can he convey it’s even worse now? Well, he can give the audience an idea by recounting the moment Sarutobi pounded on the window separating their spaces and he opened his door — annoyed, obviously — to find Kondo yelling at the paper shredder to stop while Hasegawa was furiously rummaging through its user manual, screaming ‘I don’t know, I can’t find the button!’. At that same time, Kijima was standing frozen in the doorway with a fuming cup of coffee, horror and murder in her eyes, and Takechi was observing it all from his desk, his computer screen left on an image editing software showing a monstrous poster of a Justaway with anime girl eyes. Gross.

So maybe ‘stressful energy’ aren't the right words. 

At lunchtime, he spots Takasugi eating alone in a corner, papers thrown about his table. Everyone knows his name and his face and what he’s in charge of here, so Gintoki isn’t surprised by the wide empty space surrounding him. Still, maybe he expected to see Kijima or Kondo with him. Gintoki stands there idle, hesitating. He wants to. He can’t deny he wants to. A man bumps into him while engrossed in a conversation and he apologises quietly; Gintoki barely registers it, only throwing the man a glance before his eyes go back to the corner where Takasugi sits. To be or not to be or whatever philosophical thing dilemmas are made of. Alright. Time to stop being a baby, he’s had enough time to cope. He straightens his back and takes a sharp breath, trudging forward with intent. They’re friends, he’s perfectly capable of acting normal— (What, exactly, constitutes ‘normal’ when all he’s ever done was because he—), let’s repeat this one more time: he’s perfectly capable of acting normal.

“Big day tomorrow,” He decides to open with the obvious, setting his tray down on the table in front of Takasugi. “Feeling the stress yet, mister manager?”

He barely grunts as an answer, eyes set on his papers and not looking up once. Gintoki laughs, pulling his tray towards him to get a better look at everything scattered on the table.

“What’s all this?”

“The planning,” Takasugi answers and pushes an A3 sheet of paper in his direction.

Gintoki grabs it, careful not to stain it with sauce. On it is a huge spreadsheet of different days and hours, starting tomorrow and spanning an entire month. On the side are categories and each cell has the corresponding event with a list of contacts associated with it.

“Damn. I didn’t realise there were so many things planned.”

“What do you think we’ve been doing for the past two months? The big boss said something to take over the country. We’re taking over the country.”

“Yeah, by the way, how do you plan on screwing him over?” Gintoki asks as he puts down the planning on the driest spot he can find. “Can you manage to keep the copyright of this thing to yourself?”

“Not legally. I’ll start corrupting all our files one by one. After your ugly creation becomes popular, of course.”

He is still staring at his papers, not even eating. Gintoki has half a mind to listen to his impulses that tell him to say something annoying like ‘hey, look at me’. Instead his eyes fall on Takasugi's plate, the meat sitting sadly on a mountain of rice. It looks like he took one bite or two before forgetting about it entirely, his chopsticks left askew on his lunch tray. Now, his impulses tell him to say something equally as annoying like ‘hey, finish your plate’.

“Gorilla destroyed some important documents this morning, it seems.”

“It’s fine. I’ve never given him anything of importance and I have back-ups of everything we’d need.”

“Foolproof, eh?”

“That’s the point.”

“Well, you won’t stay foolproof very long without this,” He says and taps Takasugi's plate with his chopsticks a few times.

The man looks up for the first time since Gintoki arrived, his eyes falling on his full plate almost in surprise, as if only now realising he has neglected it. Then he shrugs, picking up a pen and crossing out a few things on the paper he was reading.

“It’s cold now anyway.”

“There’s a microwave over there,” Gintoki says and points over his shoulder towards the entrance.

“I have better things to do right now.”

“You could have asked directly,” He sighs dramatically and picks up Takasugi's plate, which finally makes the man look at him. “Don’t worry, Mum will take care of it.”

“I’m not asking anything,” Takasugi growls and grabs his wrist, stopping him mid-movement while lifting the plate. “Put that down and never call yourself my mum again.”

“Why are you still horribly bad at feeding yourself, I thought maybe it was the breakup with Zura affecting you before, but now—”

“Shut up with Zura already.”

“Is it the stress? Is it love? Are you just born that way?”

“I eat when I'm hungry, aren’t you the one who’s lost weight anyway?” Takasugi asks and his eyes fall on Gintoki’s wrist as he squeezes it to make his point.

Strangely enough, this simple contact associated with this simple question make his heart do some wild gymnastics and he tries to yank himself free for half a second before he realises he is still holding the plate. Well would you look at that. He can’t be normal after all! He’s feeling pretty damn flustered at this instant and he wants to flee the country. Abort mission. Stop everything, he wants to get down. Stop, stop, stop, let Takasugi not care about him once more, let him go back in time and reason with himself not to go to Takasugi’s table because that little voice in his head was right. He can’t act normal because he was never normal in the first place. Now it’s time to run.

“Ah, so you're my mum. I’ve been looking for you for so long.”

Takasugi rolls his eyes and lets go of his wrist. Gintoki quickly puts his plate back down on his lunch tray and grabs his chopsticks, determined to shovel food in his mouth at the highest speed possible so he can get out of here faster.

“Well, whatever…” Takasugi mumbles quietly and Gintoki pointedly ignores him, slurping his noodles noisily.

Yes, whatever. Perfect, give up. He’s completely fine, too, he’s not stressed out nor in love so— Yes, okay, so maybe he’s had a bit of character development. He’s already thought a few times that what he tells Takasugi is what he should probably tell himself but now it’s ridiculous how true that is. Yes, it’s stress. He knows. Yes, it’s love. Stupid. Absolute dumbass. Finish your noodles and buy a plane ticket for Malaysia and never show your face again. Did he really lose weight? He doesn’t even know how much he weighs normally. Let alone now. Takasugi knows it better than him it seems, which means he pays attention to him, which means a cascade of other things Gintoki isn’t ready to think about. 

He needs to leave.

“Good luck with all this,” He says hurriedly and gives up on the five noodles left floating in his bowl, standing up and picking up his tray. 

“It won’t be luck,” Takasugi answers flatly, nose buried back into his papers.

“Right, right,” He mumbles and flees the place, trying not to run.

—

Today is the day.

He wakes up at eight when an entire cohort of people enters the open space, talking loudly between themselves. He groans and covers his eyes when a sliver of light enters his office through the blinds. The chatter goes on for long, long minutes. His brain fog lifts for a second to remember what was written on Takasugi's planning on this date, at this hour. It was abbreviated to something like: “justaway demo - internal”. He understands what internal means now. It means here. Inside. Where it all began. The only contact underneath was a shortened “TS”, so it’s the big opening. One particularly loud voice booms with laughter and Gintoki whines, rubbing at his eyes. Everyone is here, then. Except him. Why would anyone want to be up at this hour on a Saturday? 

Gintoki sits up with a visible lack of energy. He’s curious. Even at this hour. Not enough to actually leave the comfort of his bed and go swim in the sea of people though. He shuffles forward, dragging his futon with him until he comes close enough to the blinds to spread them with his fingers and peer through. He comes face to face with a man’s butt clothed in black slacks. He leans back and lets go of the blinds that snap back into place. Well, looks like the room is full. Did they really hire that many people over the months? He didn’t pay attention. He never actually did any interviews. He forwarded a ton of CVs to the big boss though, at first thinking it would annoy him. But maybe it didn’t. Maybe he saw it as a mark of respect and that’s why he likes Gintoki so much. Maybe he hired a ton of people, and that might be the reason behind Gintoki’s overflowing mailbox and the dozens of new notifications he gets each day. Oh well. 

He falls back down on his futon and stares at the ceiling, the sound of chatter still buzzing behind the glass. It would be unbecoming to miss the grand opening as the HR representative, wouldn’t it? And it’s Hasegawa’s big achievement. However much of an asshole he is, he should still be here. He sighs and gets up, venturing under his desk to find some decent trousers and hopefully a clean shirt. When he gets out of his office fully dressed, the open space has gone mostly quiet and he whispers an apology to the woman he bumps into while slipping through the tiny opening between his door and the wall. He’s barely tall enough to see the middle of the room where Matsudaira is tapping a microphone with his index finger, asking loudly if it works, then huffs when the lack of echo answers his own question. Gintoki wants to let him know he really doesn’t need a microphone, but his eyes linger instead. While Matsudaira yells and complains about the quality of their set up, Gintoki finds himself watching Takasugi standing just a foot behind the big boss. He’s smiling slightly, clearly satisfied, and wearing a tie for once. He probably wanted to do this properly. It’s almost cute. His band of misfits isn’t far, standing on the front line of the crowd surrounding them. Kondo is beaming, Kijima is biting her nails, Takechi is standing there, expressionless and with a megaphone at the ready. 

Gintoki cranes his neck and stands on his tiptoes, trying to locate Hasegawa. He finds the man standing on the right side, discussing nervously with the different business partners. Kawakami, of course, Hattori, even Sarutobi, Ketsuno Ana’s brother — whose name he forgot again —, one woman and two men he doesn’t recognise, and… ah, yeah, he forgot he is technically also a partner: Katsura. Oh joy. The man brought his infamous duck that caused the Taka-Zura breakup, too. 

“Is it working this time?” Matsudaira yells into the microphone and causes a wave of people covering their ears in urgency with a wince. “Hah! Good, good. Welcome everyone, I'm glad to see you all this morning. Today, we are going to launch one of the most ambitious projects this company’s had in recent history. This team has worked day and night to make this come to fruition, throwing themselves into it, mind and body alike. This is what you were all chosen for. Here, in this place, are only miracle-doers, you hear? No, not even that, as miracles happen by chance. No, you are all trendsetters. Masterminds. Vicious. Like dogs that won’t let go of a bone! This project was challenging but none of them gave up! This is what I expect from all of you, if I tell you Wednesday, get it ready by Monday. If I ask for a million, aim for three! Transcend yourself! This is what you are here for!”

He ends his speech in a dramatic yell and most of the men around Gintoki shout in agreement, raising their hands or clapping. He’s not clapping, what he’s here for is the money, not modern slavery. He’s sure the big boss knows it, too. Matsudaira basks in the attention for a minute before he starts speaking again, laughing and saying he will let the project manager start the demo, and then derailing the subject and going on another speech, bask in the glory, and again promise he will let the project manager speak. He does this two more times before finally giving away the microphone — very reluctantly, bending forward to add one last “this is what we stand for” — and Takasugi finally steps forward, doing a hand sign to Kijima who removes her nails from her mouth and nods seriously.

“During the past months, I can bet every single one of you has heard of a ‘Justaway’ project,” He begins to say, his tone slower and softer than Matsudaira’s aggressive yelling. “The name spread, its story changed, travelling from mouth to mouth, until nobody could distinctly tell what it was. Today is the day this mystery will end.”

Takasugi steps back and the lights turn off, highlighting the white wall in the back where the video projector floods it with light. Gintoki snorts, mouthing ‘show-off’ to himself. Takasugi knows how to make a speech, he’ll give him that. He watches the demo for a minute, recognising Takechi’s particular taste in design, before his eyes shift back to the object of his nightmares. His face is outlined with the light of the projector, otherwise hidden in the dark. He is standing there listening and quietly responding to Kijima, relaxed and in his element. How ironic it is, this feeling squirming in his chest. Happy to see him get to where he is now, almost proud even, relieved and content to witness him occupy the space his soul is meant to take in this world. Yet also worried, fearful, panicked at the growing affection in his heart, desperate to rip it out and throw it away.

He is going to make himself sick again.

Gintoki quietly slips back into the privacy of his office before the demo even ends.

–

The Justaway project is a hit. He knows, even from his state of hibernation in his office, because that’s all everyone talks about today. He gets emails and chatroom notifications and multiple texts from Matsudaira and overhears one too many cheers from Kondo or Sarutobi next door. Eventually, at eleven AM, Hasegawa timidly enters his office with an uncontrollable smile on his face.

“Gin-san…” He calls with great emotion, his voice breaking.

“Yes, yes, congratulations, I'm sure Hatsu will—”

“Thank you very much!” Hasegawa yells and fully enters his office to bow at a right angle. “None of this could have happened without you! I am so very grateful!”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“No, don’t be so humble,” Hasegawa says with a soft smile as he straightens up. “You are the reason I had the confidence to apply for this job in the first place. You have encouraged me time and time again. I hope one day I will be able to give back.”

“Ugh…” Gintoki whines and makes a face, uncomfortable at the display of emotion. “Pay for my lunch, then.”

Hasegawa laughs and shakes his head, but gives him a thumbs up anyway.

“Today, I will. Matsudaira-san is also planning a party for tonight.”

“Great,” Gintoki mumbles and pretends to be engrossed by some imaginary work on his computer. Hasegawa steps towards the door with a cheery ‘see you later’ and Gintoki cannot help but stop him. “Have you thanked your idiot project manager, too?”

The man does stop in the doorway and Gintoki hates the fond look on his face when he answers:

“Yes. Of course I have.”

And because of it, because of what he knows Hasegawa thinks, because of how irritating it is to feel these contradictory feelings, Gintoki ignores his answer and pretends he didn’t even ask. Hasegawa decides to be as annoying as life and the world can be as he adds:

“I hope things will work out for you too, Gin-san,”

And he closes the door.

The day could have gone without any more disturbances. Apart from Katsura staring at him contemptuously through the glass of his office and prompting him to close the blinds, it almost did. But at four thirty, the big boss barges into his office, slamming the door open with a bang and a loud laugh.

“Sakata!” He yells joyfully and Gintoki shrinks in his seat, wincing.

“What?” 

He stopped reading the texts he received from him today when they went from ‘you were right and I knew I could trust your judgement’ to: ‘that doesn’t mean I'll let your sweetheart take my spot hahahaha!’. After that Matsudaira got the same treatment as everyone else: blocked. Boss or not. 

“Party! Tonight! At my house, bring all of your friends,” He says, points a finger at him, and leaves with a bang and a laugh.

Gintoki would have ignored that order, if it weren’t for Matsudaira coming back thirty minutes later to physically drag him to his car, calling him a VIP. 

And well. He knew today would be cursed anyway.

—

He doesn’t know which part is the worst, really. Being in the VIP car squeezed between Hijikata and Kondo, arriving at a disgustingly big villa in the suburbs packed with unknown faces, or recognising one face amongst the many, namely, one Sakamoto Tatsuma. 

“Kintoki!” He yells from the porch, arms open.

“You brought friends, good!” Matsudaira says and claps his back, making him stumble a step forward.

Hijikata grumbles something about the noise and the neighbours and Kondo is already greeting way too many people to count. Gintoki curses fate and decides he will leave as soon as Matsudaira gets too drunk to notice. 

“How did you even end up here, are you also a secret business partner?” Gintoki grunts as he walks toward his highschool friend, darting his eyes about to look out for other unpleasantly familiar faces.

“Hahah! No! Zura invited me!”

“Figures.”

Matsudaira passes them by, laughing and clapping his hands over his head as he yells: ‘let the party begin!’ and goes through his front door. One by one, people start to follow with chatter and smiles all over.

“He’s insane.”

“Haha, come on, let’s have fun!” Sakamoto says and inclines his head, a grin on his face. “Tonight’s as good a time as any,” He continues in a lower, gentler voice.

“Shut up!!” Gintoki yells and throws his hands in the air, following the crowd inside.

Sakamoto only laughs. It’s too bad he cannot block him in real life, too. He quickly checks the time on his phone. The sun is setting, but it’s barely six o’clock. This party will be long. 

Sakamoto and him both get inside and are met with a mountain of shoes at the entrance, coats and scarves barely more orderly on the rail and hangers. Matsudaira doesn’t seem to care, instead still clapping his hands and guiding the crowd into his living room. Gintoki suddenly wonders if he ever re-married and hopes not for the imaginary wife's sake.  

“I lost Zura and Takasugi early on,” Sakamoto mentions and shuffles closer to him. “Takasugi said he won’t stay long, Zura scolded him haha!”

“Yeah I'm not staying either,” Gintoki answers sourly and stands on his tiptoes to peek over the crowd and try to locate the alcohol.

“Aww, you’re leaving together?”

“Nah.”

At least Matsudaira planned his party well and Gintoki can spy an imposing amount of bottles and cans on a table in the back of the room. Perfect. Target acquired.

“Come on,” He says and gestures for Sakamoto to follow him as if they were in a spy movie.

“Right behind ya!”

Gintoki squeezes himself between people and slowly but surely makes his way to the end of the living room, passing by the huge dark brown couch and the wood and glass coffee table. Dangerous, to have furniture made of glass during a party. He can bet a few things will end broken at the end of the night. Maybe it will be his fault, even. 

Fortunately for his social standing, some people have already started drinking when they get to the table. Unfortunately for him, Sarutobi is one of them. She widens her eyes and immediately leaves her glass on the table, shuffling towards him.

“Gin-san!”

“No,” He answers as a preventive measure.

“Do you want a drink? I’ll be your waitress, what do you want? Tell me!” She says as quickly as possible and reaches a hand to grab a clean glass.

“Haha, you’re popular!” Sakamoto laughs and claps his shoulder with a hand.

Sarutobi’s eyes follow the movement like a lioness follows an antelope. Gintoki doesn’t want to know what is going on in that crazy head of hers. He shrugs Sakamoto off and grumbles ‘beer’. 

“Which one?” She immediately focuses back on him and starts enumerating flavour after flavour after brand and Gintoki interrupts her with ‘yes, that' and she nods, leaving their side to go rummage through the cardboards of beers under the table.

“Gin-san!” Another excited voice yells before he can even breathe a sigh of relief.

The tone and the shy happy chuckle that follows informs him it is Hasegawa. He doesn’t move even while Sakamoto turns to face the intruder and laughs as well.

“Haha, you’re really popular,” He repeats as if saying it once wasn’t enough.

“Gin-san, I’m glad to see you here, I wasn’t sure you would show up,” Hasegawa says earnestly, sidestepping the last person in his way before facing him and giving a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gintoki grumbles and watches Sarutobi curse at nothing and hit her head on the table, making all the bottles rattle. “I’ll make the most of the buffet and then I'm gone.”

“Oh, I see…”

“Hahaha! Don’t mind him, once drunk, he’ll definitely party through the night!” Sakamoto slaps Gintoki's shoulder once more as he addresses Hasegawa.

The man chuckles and Gintoki doesn’t dignify this with an answer. Instead, Sarutobi finally emerges from under the table with a full glass and hurries towards him, almost spilling it in the process.

“Here!” She yells and he carefully takes it from her hand. “I am in charge of this party, if there’s anything you need, just ask! You can gain back the two and a half kilograms you’ve lost in the past three months over there, the right side is full of proteins, while the left side—” 

“Woaaah,” Gintoki interrupts her while she points at the kitchen. “How the hell do you even keep track of the half-kilograms I have or haven’t lost? I don’t even own scales.”

Sarutobi stops and stays still for a second before lowering her finger and bending forward to whisper:

“I calculate. I’ve changed my mind, he’s not bad at all. I’ve become his Gin-san advisor.”

“His—?” He asks dumbly and closes his eyes to will himself to stay calm while Sakamoto laughs loudly next to him.

Well that explains Takasugi's comment on his weight then. Mystery solved. It’s just the Sarutobi-crazy getting to him. Somehow managing to turn her into another Justaway servant while making her believe her ‘Gintoki expertise’ is valuable, what a vicious move. 

Gintoki opens his eyes. Sarutobi is right there, dead serious, Sakamoto is clapping his shoulder and laughing in his back, and Hasegawa is standing to his right and giving him that smile. You know the one. He is getting more and more irritated by the minute, surrounded by idiots while his very existence is in full crisis. He needs new friends.

“Thanks for the drink,” he mumbles and lifts his glass before quickly ducking out of the circle of hell the three of them are forming.

Sarutobi starts yelling his name but gets interrupted by Sakamoto's request for a drink, ‘whatever you recommend, haha!’ and she immediately slips back into her role. Hasegawa lets him go with a half-baked protest that consists of: ‘ah, eh, uhm’. Gintoki squeezes himself between people, moody and nervous — because, with his luck, he’s going to run right into Takasugi himself and spill his beer on him — mumbling sorry and excuse me every two seconds. As he finally makes it out of the crowd and breathes a sigh of relief, he spots Hijikata standing next to the entrance with his arms crossed, a frown on his face, and his fingers twitching and scratching at his own nails. He grins slowly, satisfied with his find. At least this brand of dumbass is the kind who won’t ever tell him to confess tonight. New friend acquired.

“Hello again!” He greets merrily, holding his glass up. “Standing guard as always, how diligent.”

“Shut it,” The other man grumbles and tenses up as Gintoki approaches. “This is way too many people, I've already seen at least fifteen people eating without a napkin and leaving crumbs on the floor, not to mention someone is bound to eventually fall and break something, or spill their drink.”

“You really are the janitor.”

“Shut up. This is basic decency.”

Hijikata then stops his compulsive nail-scratching and looks down at Gintoki’s feet. He nods, satisfied to see his boots absent, replaced by plastic slippers with the company’s logo.

“I thought you’d definitely be part of those people. But it looks like you’re capable of the bare minimum after all.”

Gintoki sighs and takes the two steps separating him from the wall, leaning against it right next to Hijikata. What a lousy way to spend the night. But better to talk about dirty shoes than a certain someone he won’t name and what he may or may not feel for him.

“You’re no fun. Go get a drink, get funnier, and then come back.”

“I’m not here to entertain you, HR, I'm here to make sure everything goes smoothly and Matsudaira-san’s house stays undamaged. Especially since it’s that crazy woman planning everything. I bet you thought it would be “funny” to put her in charge, huh?”

“What, me? I had nothing to do with this,” He huffs and starts drinking his beer.

It’s way too sweet and… lemony? What did she even give him? He frowns at the glass and sniffs the content while Hijikata continues:

“That guy Takasugi picked her for the job.”

Gintoki looks at him, noticing the particularly strong distaste in his voice. He looks like he swallowed a lemon. Obviously, Hijikata has never liked Takasugi, but he seems even more irritated than usual tonight.

“Eh,” Gintoki shrugs, staring back ahead. “Is that the worst thing he’s done?”

“No, the worst is leading a rebellion. Dumbass. This entire thing is a farce.”

“What, the party?”

“The project!” Hijikata explodes and finally uncrosses his arms, gesturing at the crowd in the living room. “The logical thing would be to fire him, and instead we’re celebrating his wins. It’s not a win, he’s too good at screwing with people’s heads. Did you know the ‘guy in traffic’ meme was staged a month ago, all for this moment? He thinks too far ahead, he’s dangerous.”

“The what meme?” 

“The—” Hijikata starts to repeat and then stops, turns his head and fixes him with a blank stare. “You didn't follow any of it? Everyone was yelling about your shitty Justaway all day, shoving their phone screens under my nose. You didn’t see any of it?”

“Nah, I was working,” He answers and Hijikata starts to curse and grumble again but Gintoki gradually tunes him out when his eyes fall on a certain face, standing between the kitchen and living room.

The culprit. He’s still in his business attire, but already lost the tie. It brings a smile to Gintoki’s face. Then another man comes into view, standing right next to him and giving him a drink. Gintoki loses the smile, blinking numbly at the scene. He’s not Sarutobi, he won’t go into hysterics about how they’re definitely dating because they spend time together and do each other little favours, but still. Even just this much, even something as small as asking him what he wants to drink and bringing it to him, if only he could just…

What is he even thinking?

“—the worst was definitely the music video. I didn’t even know this ‘Otsuu’ before, and I would have preferred it that way. This was a nightmare.”

“Hey, don’t you need a smoke?”

“What?”

“I'm craving some fresh air,” Gintoki says and gulps down almost half of his drink before getting to his shoes.

Hijikata watches him and huffs.

“I’ll stay here, thanks.”

“As you wish.”

Gintoki spends five minutes in the cold, just enough to finish his drink and get bored before he gets back inside and gets himself another drink. He makes sure to avoid Sarutobi or any other person he knows who will be annoying tonight and alternates between drinking alone on the porch, bothering Hijikata in the various places he decides to watch, eating a little bit of everything on the buffet — and damn, Sarutobi did a good job — and being dragged around when Matsudaira catches him and decides to give him a tour of his house. 

The next time he checks the time, it is almost eleven and half of the crowd is gone, the rest is already drunk and keeps drinking. Matsudaira is still — unfortunately — quite lively and loud, dancing or standing on furniture and making speeches. Sarutobi spent a considerable amount of time managing the playlists and walking around with drinks and snacks and asking — yelling — if everyone is having a good time. Gintoki spotted Hattori once or twice, usually around the bathroom, and Kawakami was like a beacon with his teal hair that Gintoki couldn’t help but follow anytime it was in his field of vision. Also because Takasugi was generally not far. Takechi, who Gintoki hadn’t even noticed at all, went to change at some point and came out of the bathroom in a Justaway cosplay. That made Gintoki notice him, alright. Sakamoto ended up finding Katsura again and they stayed close together afterwards, getting drunk together, singing karaoke together, dancing together, being embarrassing idiots together, you name it. In this chaos that made it much harder to avoid the dumbasses who are the kinds of idiots who will bother him about his special someone, Gintoki decided to convince Hijikata to get as drunk as him. It didn't work until he called him a lightweight and a coward and challenged him to a drinking contest. They ended up sprawled on two small seats in an isolated corner of the living room, empty beer cans around them.

“You’re drunker than me,” Hijikata declares boldly.

“Haha, nah. I’m not, and I can prove it,” He says and reaches for an unopened can.

“I can also drink another!” 

“Uh-huh, you’re still wayyy more drunk than I am.”

“I can still stand,” Hijikata declares and stands up abruptly, beer in hand. 

He wobbles but doesn’t lose balance before promptly sitting back down, a proud smirk on his face.

“And my vision is still perfectly clear,” He continues, lifting his head and squinting his eyes in the direction of the kitchen. “Oh, Kondo-san is being bullied by the blond woman again.”

“Haha, what a loser. Go save him, mister knight in shining armour!”

“Kondo-san can handle himself,” Hijikata shakes his head as if he was talking to a child. “I know this, because we’re real friends, nothing like you and your never-ending drama with Takasugi.”

“My drama?! What would you know anyway…” Gintoki grumbles moodily, annoyed at his audacity to bring up that subject.

“Seriously, you two look like a divorced couple,” He insists and drinks from his can.

Or tries to, as he stops and looks at the inside when he realises he picked up an empty one.

“Yeah, well maybe that's what we are, huh? Have you thought of that, mister smartass?!” Gintoki yells back and swipes his beer from his hand.

Hijikata doesn’t protest, staying still as he ponders on what was just said to him.

“Hey… Oh. Wait. For real?”

“Fuck you, this is empty,” Gintoki complains, throwing the beer can on the cushions.

“Hey. HR. You and Takasugi were…? For real?”

“Were!! Is the keyword here. We’re nothing special now, huh, you’ve noticed, no?! Everyone has noticed! Like it’s a real big deal or something! Pah!”

He frowns and opens his own can with more force than necessary, the gas hissing out.

“It was all true? Then— Hey!” Hijikata repeats and slaps his shoulder. “Don’t be stupid! It is a big deal!”

“In your head maybe!” Gintoki exclaims, huffing loudly. “Forever virgins always give so much importance to fleeting things that aren’t meant to last, then they cling onto every woman who deigns speak to them once, like some desperate—”

“Oi, shut up! You’re the one who’s been acting like a jackass for months because of a breakup! So shut up and listen!”

“It’s not a breakup, ask Takasugi!”

“So what then?” Hijikata asks and Gintoki stays resolutely silent, deciding to drown in his beer instead. “You’re in love, right?”

“No,” Gintoki stops drinking and nervously slaps his can with the palm of his hand, glancing up to make sure no one is overhearing. Hasegawa disappeared early on, probably too drunk to go on, and Sakamoto is in the kitchen, busy laughing and yelling with Katsura at his side. “We were friends once, and now we’re kind of— kinda nothing. It’s whatever he wants. I’ll just keep living my life.”

Hijikata laughs in a mean way, pointing a finger at him that Gintoki slaps away immediately.

“Hah! That’s love, dumbass! I can see it, I did the same! Then she married someone else and I felt like jumping off a bridge, so there!”

Gintoki pauses to stare long and hard at Hijikata’s winning smile despite what he admitted.

“Yeah, well… That won’t happen to me ‘cause Takasugi's never gonna marry.”

“Oh sure, that’s what I told myself too! I also thought I just had to never see her again, so I would never know!”

“He’s never gonna tell me if he’s dating someone anyway, so I don’t care.”

“Yeah, yeah, exactly! ‘If I don’t see it then it can’t hurt me’, I know!”

“And it works!” Gintoki exclaims. “Look at us, we’re totally fine, hanging out and having beers like good pals! Who needs them anyway?”

“Yeah! Wait— no! I’m telling you not to make the same mistake!”

“But was it a mistake? Look at you, aren’t you successful and everything?”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t think I could’ve made her happy anyway, but—”

“See, we’re totally fine,” Gintoki insists and pats Hijikata’s shoulder in sympathy. “No need to chase after no-good idiots. As if it’d work out. Pffftt!”

“No, hey, wait! Stop screwing with my brain! I have a point to make!” 

“Yeah, the point is that we’re happy and successful and don’t need Takasugi.”

“The point! Is that… err, what was I saying? Oh yeah! The point is… Have you even tried, HR?”

“Tried what?”

“Aughh, don’t make me say it, this is dreadful enough as it is. Tried, like… You and Takasugi.”

“Nah, I don’t know what you mean,” Gintoki feigns ignorance and brings his beer back to his lips.

Hijikata curses and slaps his own face as if to give himself strength. Gintoki understands. Those topics are just awful to talk about. He hopes Hijikata isn’t brave enough to actually ask about the details. And if Gintoki wasn’t narrating this story, the audience would know that Hijikata isn’t, in fact, brave enough to do that. But he is drunk enough to.

“Okay, HR, you know what? Yeah, it was a mistake. I was young, it was a ‘right person, wrong time’ thing. But you, you’re not a teenager, you're a grown-ass man! So what the hell is stopping you? Huh? You’re a coward, is that it?”

“What, what’s cowardly?!” He exclaims in annoyance and slaps his beer into his palm. “I’ve screwed things up enough as it is! Even as a dumb teenager, and now too, so really, it’s not cowardice it’s realism, okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” Hijikata nods to himself. “Certified cowardice.”

“Oi, shut up. Don’t compare us, just ‘cause you're a loser who lost your chance doesn’t mean—”

“Chicken.”

“Oi.”

“Wimp.”

“How?! I’m—!”

“What’s so hard about telling the guy, huh? Worst case scenario you get rejected and that’s it! Bandaid off!”

“What are you even talking about?!” Gintoki yells in indignation as Hijikata calmly empties another beer can. “I have nothing to say! Like I said he does whatever he wants, and I'm fine with it!”

“What, you want him to confess first? Like the coward you are, huh?”

“Please let’s stop this conversation right there,” Gintoki grumbles and crushes his empty can between his hands. “Talking of confessions like we’re highschoolers, I'm getting goosebumps. It’s creepy.”

“Huh… Actually, you’re right, I don’t like this conversation either,” Hijikata admits as he finally seems to escape the alcohol spell of shamelessness.

“Good!” Gintoki yells and reaches for another beer. “Let’s talk about something else, like… uh. Something we have in common, like…”

Hijikata blinks while Gintoki thinks hard about what, exactly, they could talk about. 

“We have nothing in common,” He says blandly and Gintoki shakes his head.

“No, haha, nonono, nope. No way. Hey, do you like gambling?”

“Hate it. It’s totally random, who’d fall for such an obvious trap? Oh,” he says and looks plainly at Gintoki then. “You would. Nevermind.”

“Hey—”

“We have only one thing in common, HR.”

“No—”

“It's our shitty love life.”

“No— I said not this.”

“Yeah, it’s a shit thing to have in common.”

“And we don’t have this in common, dammit!” He yells and gulps down his beer like his life depends on it. 

“Oh… HR.”

“No.”

“Hey, HR.”

“No.”

“Let’s bet. If you like gambling.”

“N—! Oh, yeah, sure, I'm game. Knew you’d change your mind, after all there is always some kind of strategy when it comes to gambling.”

“I’ll talk to Mitsuba. Tell her the truth… And you, too. Whoever does it first wins.”

“... What? Haha, that’s not a gamble on anything,” He laughs nervously, shifting his beer can between his two hands.

“Yes. I think I'll win, because you’re a coward,” Hijikata answers confidently, nodding to himself.

“What?! Okay, fuck you. You’re on, you bastard. I’ll beat you to it, no problem! In fact,” Gintoki says, slams his beer on the table and stands up. He stumbles and catches himself on the armrest, making Hijikata laugh at him. He glares back at him. “In fact I'll do it tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” Hijikata taunts and immediately digs inside his trousers’ pocket to find his phone. “I’ll do it right now!”

“Oh yeah?!” Gintoki repeats, watching the other man smirk at his phone as he holds it with two hands and starts scrolling. “You don’t have the balls.”

“I do!” Hijikata yells and promptly shows him his phone screen, all but shoving it in his face. Okita Mitsuba is written on it. Gintoki sniffs in disdain.

“Go ahead. Press call. You won’t even dare.”

“I’ll show you how much of a coward you are,” Hijikata says and presses the call button.

Gintoki blinks dumbly at him. He definitely did not expect that. Will he really…? The woman he loved and who married someone else? Calling her at midnight? While he’s completely drunk off his ass? The fool. The absolute dumbass. 

“What are you doing?!” He shrieks and stumbles forward, urgently grabbing his phone.

“Wh— hey get off me! You’re just a sore loser!”

“She’s married!” Gintoki keeps yelling, trying to pull the dialling phone out of the other man’s hand. “Are you stupid?!”

“I know she’s married! But her husband’s an asshole anyway, so what’s so bad about it huh?! I wanna tell her!”

“No, man, you’re drunk,” Gintoki mumbles and urgently peels Hijikata’s fingers off of his phone.

The man whines something in protest but fails to grab back his phone, and Gintoki blinks multiple times to focus his vision before hitting the hang-up button quickly.

“Give it back.”

“No. This is a bad idea. Why did you egg me on? That’s so stupid. So dumb. Wow,” He breathes, a heaviness resting on his heart. “Two more beers and I’d have totally yelled at Takasugi from a rooftop or something. Don’t do this to me, shit.”

“No, you go yell at him, dammit. Some of us can’t do that anymore…” Hijikata grumbles softly and Gintoki looks at him.

He is sprawled on the sofa, an arm resting lazily on his eyes as if to hide him from the world. He looks miserable. Gintoki twists his mouth and looks away, glancing at the heart of the party where Matsudaira is standing on the kitchen table, waving his shirt over his head like a flag. Kijima is in hysterics and he cannot tell if Kondo is laughing or crying or both. Sarutobi is singing off-key to a song Kawakami is blasting from his phone, nodding his head to the rhythm while Hattori is clapping. Takechi is still in cosplay, doing a strange dance with Katsura while Sakamoto records them, snickering loudly. Maybe Takasugi left. But…

“I think he’s smoking outside,” Gintoki finds himself thinking out loud without meaning to.

Hijikata grunts.

“Go. I’m serious, HR. You’ll regret it all your life if you don’t.”

Gintoki stands up slowly. No thought dares enter his head as he extracts himself from the living room with difficulty, focusing on walking straight and not tripping on his feet. He vaguely hears Hijikata grumble something that sounds like do your best before he gets to the front door, puts his shoes on with difficulty, and opens it. 

Chapter Text

Cold air hits his face and he curses, burying his neck in his shoulders. Just as he thought, a dark silhouette is standing near the door, green eyes lit by the porch turned on him with a curious glint in them.

“Sick?” He asks with a small smirk, bringing his cigarette to his lips.

“No,” Gintoki answers, the weight of the world suddenly resting heavily on his shoulders. “No, I'm sober.”

“As if,” Takasugi huffs out a laugh and turns back towards the street.

Gintoki closes the front door slowly, taking careful steps to stand near him.

“It’s uh. Kinda cold tonight,” He says aimlessly, forgetting what he’s doing here entirely.

“Mh. Autumn is drawing near.”

“Yeah. Time flies, right? We’ve been colleagues for two whole months now.”

“Sure. What a blessing that is,” Takasugi answers sarcastically and Gintoki falls silent, staring at the empty street.

“Actually,” He starts to say and stops, erasing the next words that wanted to make it out of his mouth. He scratches his head. “I like working with you.”

“Really,” The other man answers flatly, not even a question.

Gintoki watches him exhale more smoke and finds himself coughing at the smell. Takasugi looks back, pulling his hand away to spare him. Gintoki's breath catches despite himself. This is the right moment, he can feel it. He has seen it in plenty of TV shows and movies before. The eye contact, the calm atmosphere at night, the determination of the hero sparked by his friend’s bad example. Takasugi looks away a second later and Gintoki quickly looks back towards the street too, almost choking on his own breath. 

“Yes, really. I mean, we have fun, right? It’s interesting,” He rambles, trying to move things along.

How in the world can he do this? Is there no manual? No tutorial? Is he just on his own here? Reality isn't like TV shows!

“I guess it’s been… not so terrible,” Takasugi allows quietly.

“Hah, wow, I'm flattered. Such great praise from Takasugi-san,” He jokes in answer.

“I’m going to quit. In a month.”

Gintoki looks back at him with wide eyes, wondering if alcohol messed up his hearing as much as his discernment.

“What? Quit the well-paid job with no diploma? Who are you and what did you do to Takasugi Shinsuke?”

The other man chuckles quietly before extinguishing the last of his cigarette, looking down at the ground.

“Yeah, look at us. How the tables turn.”

Gintoki presses his lips together. Ten years ago, Takasugi was his closest friend. Ten years ago, Takasugi would have told him his intentions the moment they crossed his mind, ten years ago they could lean on each other. Ten years ago, he thinks — maybe, possibly, if he isn’t imagining things — Takasugi might have been a little bit in love with him. And maybe that’s the reason everything is so wrong now. Because Takasugi isn’t the kind of man who makes the same mistake twice. 

Right person, wrong time, Hijikata said. But will there ever be a right time? What exactly can Gintoki offer anyone? He has never been able to make a relationship work, always wanting to escape after the first month. He takes in a long breath through his nose.

“I don’t think you’ve changed so much,” He tells him quietly. He longs for this lost sincerity and closeness they once had. How unique and precious that is to him, even to this day. No one has ever been able to replace it. “You wouldn't quit if you didn't have a perfectly planned alternative. So. What will you be doing?”

“Hah…” Takasugi laughs and rests his weight on the rocky wall separating the house from its neighbour. “I wouldn't say it’s perfectly planned. We still have a few things left to decide. But well, I’ve estimated that I can live comfortably for at least four months, so I'd say the risk is acceptable. We’re creating a record label.”

“We?” He asks even though he can guess the answer.

“Bansai and I. Kijima and Takechi will join, too, just so you know. You should expect their resignation letter in a month or so as well.”

“Wow,” He exhales, feeling his energy depleting with these simple words. “You really were a menace after all. Making so many employees quit to follow you.”

“I didn't say anything,” Takasugi answers defensively. “They learned about it on their own and joined on their own, too. I told them it wasn’t financially viable, they didn't care.”

“Yeah, ‘cause life isn’t about money, it’s about the friends you make along the way.”

“Stop with your shitty motivational speeches.”

Gintoki chuckles, looking at the ground. Really. There are words stuck in his head, going on repeat over and over like a broken record and yet…

“Now you’ve got all your variables set up, though. Congratulations, you’ve reached the end of the coaching programme.”

“Hah. Right. I should leave a review.”

“Do you recommend my services?”

“No. It’s a scam. The coach is a lazy bastard who will dump his theories on you and force you into uncomfortable situations.”

“Yeah, well—” Gintoki starts to justify and Takasugi interrupts.

“But. Sometimes, a change has to happen for opportunities to arise. And despite his negative IQ, his interventions led me here. So,” Takasugi shrugs and Gintoki smiles, feeling warm. “I suppose he did change my life.”

He feels his breath catch and heart rate spike up, slowly deviating his gaze towards the ground. How in the world— How…? 

“You’re not sober either, are you?” He asks quietly, ending the sentence with a chuckle.

“Hm. Maybe not.”

“Yeah. Because, you know, I actually came here for a reason.”

“Yeah, I knew it. There’s a bush just behind this wall,” Takasugi says and vaguely gestures towards the back of the house. “I saw your friend throw up there earlier. You’re welcome.”

Gintoki closes his eyes and giggles like a child, caught up in the absurdity of his answer. 

“What?” Takasugi asks and Gintoki just laughs louder.

“I’m not here to throw up and call it a day!” He exclaims and brings a hand to his eyes, shaking with laughter. “You’re so— You’re so funny, Takasugi.”

“You’ve started smoking then? Well, no, that makes no sense,” Takasugi mumbles to himself, frowning.

Gintoki tries to calm down his last giggles, staring at his profile. He’s so—

“Cute.”

Takasugi whips his head back towards him with an impressive glower. He’s always more expressive when drunk.

“Cute what? Won’t you ever stop with this shit?”

“Nah.”

The man huffs and digs inside his jacket, taking out his packet of cigarettes.

“What are you here for, then?” He grumbles and picks a cigarette.

Gintoki stays silent, words a jumbled mess in his head. Should he just use a speech Sakamoto made? No, he wants this connection back. This honesty, this sincerity, this vulnerability. He’s not drunk enough for this, he still cares way too much. He takes in a big breath through his nose and holds it for a second.

“I’m shit at this.”

“What, just spit it out al—” Takasugi mumbles around his cigarette as he tries to light it and the words die in his throat, his hand going down and eyes growing wider when Gintoki takes a step into his personal space.

“If you don’t want this then just punch me,” He whispers and slowly lifts a hand to remove the cigarette from his lips.

Takasugi’s eyes are beautiful from up close, green and sharp, the pupil wide as if trying to take in as much of him as possible, the intensity swimming in them mirrors the race his own blood started in his veins. He’s not getting punched yet. Gintoki lifts his other hand, fingers brushing the collar of his shirt before resting lightly on the side of his neck, just under his jaw. Takasugi shivers and Gintoki can feel his pulse, just as wild as his own. He is still not getting punched. It’s terrible. He’d rather get punched. 

“What are you doing…” Takasugi whispers between them and his voice is unsteady.

Gintoki can feel his breath on his own lips.

“I don’t know,” He answers just as quietly and closes up the remaining distance.

He didn’t know a kiss could feel this fragile and weak, neither of them willing to surrender. He feels Takasugi's hesitance, yet expected not to, thinking he would be too eager to cover up his lack of confidence by taking the lead. He doesn’t feel like hiding his own disintegrating bold front either, moving slowly and brain running in the background, asking question over question over question. Is this a bad kiss? Is he a bad kisser? How many people has Takasugi kissed before? Is he ruining their first kiss? It feels so very important to let him know how sorry he is, right now. So he moves away just an inch and whispers:

“I’d like to formally apologise for being out of practice. If you just thought: ‘wow, what a shitty kiss’, that’s why.”

“What,” Takasugi answers in a breathless chuckle that sends a spark of electricity running through Gintoki’s spine. “I promise I won’t judge.”

“Liar,” Gintoki answers and doesn’t give him the opportunity to say anything back by sealing their lips once again.

It works better the second time as he gradually finds his rhythm and Takasugi follows more confidently. Too much better, even. He brings his right hand up to gingerly touch Takasugi’s waist, still holding onto the cigarette between his fingers, and Takasugi lifts his hands as well, framing his face in warmth. He hears something clattering to the ground, and he doesn’t care a bit. The flow shifts without him noticing and he’s pulled closer by the nape of his neck, Takasugi inclines his head to kiss with more insistence and Gintoki stumbles a half-step closer. He smiles, making Takasugi slow down, and then laughs, breaking the kiss.

Takasugi’s breath is shallow as he pulls back, eyebrows furrowed when he whispers:

“Sorry.”

“No, no, I’m sorry—”

“I’ve been smoking. So if you just thought: ‘what a shitty kiss’, I—”

“Nah, no, really, it’s—”

He’s interrupted when the front door opens, freezing them both on the spot. Three pairs of eyes meet, black, green and brown. Hijikata blinks, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. Then his eyes widen comically wide and a soft ohh escapes him. Both him and Takasugi jump away from each other like they just got burned.

“Right, yeah, you said Takasugi would be outside! I forgot. Uh, oh,” He then seems to take in the situation, their previous closeness, Takasugi’s frown and idle hands, Gintoki’s sweaty disposition. “Oh. OH! Did you do it?!”

“NO, we were just standing awfully close because we’re such good friends we check each other’s breath. You DUMBASS.”

“Heheh,” Hijikata giggles like a very drunk man and grins almost haughtily. “Told ya so. Didn’t I? Well done, HR. Well done. Let’s celebrate.”

“How many beers did you drink while I was gone?”

“Many,” Hijikata dismisses the question and steps to the side on the open doorway, waving a hand to invite them inside. “Come on, come on, let’s partyyy.”

“Didn’t you come here to smoke?” Gintoki asks flatly.

Takasugi’s hand twitches and he discretely takes another step back. Gintoki curses the heavens and whichever god wrote his fate. What a joker. A funny god, that one! Clearly wanted him to live a stupid life!

“Naah,” Hijikata shakes his head. “In fact, I'm quitting tonight!” He says, grabs his cigarette and throws it on the floor. “There! Bad habit! No woman should marry a man who smokes!”

“Oookay, okay, no need for that, haha,” Gintoki tries to placate the man and throws Takasugi an alarmed look before whispering: “I think I caused this.”

“You told him you’d do what, exactly?” He asks cautiously, his eyes shifting between him and Hijikata.

“Nothing, nothing, forget it. We were just talking and it… unearthed some bad memories for him or something,” Gintoki keeps whispering, watching the drunk man carefully.

Who is not doing much apart from staring blankly at his ruined cigarette, seeming to ponder the meaning of life.

“Oi,” Gintoki tries calling Hijikata gently, waving a hand in his direction.

The man looks up, blinking at them slowly.

“I threw my cigarette on the ground. It was my last one.”

Gintoki cannot help but burst out laughing at his lost-child expression while Takasugi sighs and just digs in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes.

“Here.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Hijikata takes a cigarette from the offered pack before giving him a solemn nod. “You are not as bad as I thought, Takasugi Shinsuke.”

“You are not making the same impression, Hijikata Toshirou.”

Gintoki laughs and pats Hijikata’s shoulder, the man only frowning in confusion at Takasugi’s underhanded insult.

“C’mon, be nice to him! He’s my friend now, right?”

“Oh yeah, totally,” Hijikata nods and finally remembers his first invitation. “Yeah! Come inside, I'll save this preciously,” He says while brandishing the cigarette. “Come celebrate, Kondo-san wanted to play a game with everyone together.”

And as if on cue, Kondo’s head pops up behind Hijikata and he exclaims in joy:

“Oh there you are! Gin-san, Sugi-san! Katsura-san brought Uno cards, let’s all play!”

He promptly disappears again inside the house and Hijikata exclaims he’ll be the referee and drunkenly follows his friend. Which leaves Gintoki alone with Takasugi once more, with the same nervous pressure he felt when he first stepped outside to find him there.

“Eh, uhm. Shall we?” He asks awkwardly, gesturing inside.

“I dropped my lighter,” Takasugi mumbles and frowns at the ground, searching the ground with the tip of his shoe.

Gintoki laughs, overwhelmed by a warmth he doesn’t recognise. It makes him feel light and invincible somehow.

“Leave it,” He drawls and grabs at his arm. “I dropped your cigarette, too.”

“What a waste,” Takasugi says but lifts his head and stops his search anyway.

Their eyes meet in an uncomfortable silence, only the sound of the wind in tree leaves filling the air. Something tells him he should say something. Something like an actual confession with actual loving words, in case this all goes into – unfortunately – familiar territory. The one where he’s accused of being distant and confusing, where he stares at someone else's tears while he is asked if he even cares at all. But words are not really his domain. Instead he smiles and nods in the direction of the door before turning away and walking towards the house.

Uno is a good idea, it will distract them from this emotional rollercoaster. He’s feeling exhausted himself.

“Want to be my teammate?” He asks as he walks inside.

“Uno is every man for himself,” Takasugi answers, the sound of his steps soon following.

“Says who?” Gintoki smiles and removes his shoes, walking inside the house.

Takasugi snorts, gets inside as well and Gintoki glances up to find him looking amused.

“Zura is a priority target,” Takasugi adds naturally.

Gintoki keeps grinning and watches him close the door behind himself.

“Next, the creepy accountant.”

“You’re reading my mind.”

“Alright let’s go!”

They walk into the living room and Kondo welcomes them loudly, urging them to sit in the circle people are forming on the ground. Katsura complains while shuffling the cards and Sakamoto laughs loudly, yelling at Takasugi to sit beside him. Gintoki turns to him and raises his eyebrows in a silent question. As expected, Takasugi is scanning the circle’s disposition with a laser-sharp focus, eventually whispering to him to sit besides Takechi while he takes the spot between Sakamoto and Katsura. Gintoki chuckles to himself and sits down.

It doesn’t matter if he didn’t say it tonight. After all, while making mistake after mistake, he still got to kiss him in the end. So it’s fine if he hasn’t yet found the strength to say the words that matter. For now, they’re a team, and that is enough.

Gintoki understands Takasugi’s strategy the first time the reverse card is played, allowing him to play all his nasty cards on his creepy dead-eyed neighbour. The next reverse card, it’s once again Takasugi’s turn to make Katsura’s life miserable. Gintoki laughs like a maniac at Katsura’s loud offended yelling, every other player being too drunk or too stupid to play correctly. When the end draws near and he only has one card left to play, he eagerly waits for the colour to turn to blue. Takasugi pauses when his turn comes, staring intently into his eyes. Gintoki stares back, focused on sending telepathic messages. The man plays a card to change the colour and stays silent only for a second before announcing:

“Blue.”

“YES!” Gintoki can’t help but shout in triumph.

“It’s not your turn!!” Katsura yells back, pointing an accusing finger at him. “And what was that silent communication?! Are you cheating? Takasugi, why are you helping him win!!”

“Hahahaha! Oh wow, is it the end already?” Sakamoto laughs and throws a blue card on the pile.

“I’m sorry Katsura-san…” Kondo says miserably and plays a blue eight.

“No!!” Katsura screams dramatically and throws his cards in the air.

“Yes,” Gintoki says smugly and plays his last card on top of Kondo’s. “I win~”

“I want a rematch!” 

The next game, Takasugi wins. The next, Gintoki wins again. Katsura accuses them of cheating a dozen times, Hijikata falls asleep on the deck of cards, Kondo keeps breaking the rules and apologising profusely about it, and it is the most fun Gintoki has had in a while. Sakamoto calls for a bathroom break and people slowly start drifting to other activities after that, Katsura going to check on Elisabeth in the garden and everyone else doing something more normal like get snacks or alcohol. Or go rescue their drunk friend, like Kondo who tries to lift Hijikata from the ground without waking him up.

Gintoki watches him struggle, the sound of Takasugi slowly gathering all the cards thrown around filling his ears.

“He knows?” He asks quietly, bumping his leg against Takasugi's hand and nodding at Kondo.

“What?” He answers, looking between him and Kondo. “About?”

“That you’ll quit.”

“Ah. No, he doesn’t,” Takasugi answers in a whisper and keeps gathering the cards, pulling one out from under Gintoki’s thigh.

“Huh. He’ll be heartbroken.”

“He’ll get over it. It’s not like we’re friends or anything.”

Gintoki laughs at him, bumping his hand again.

“Eh~ you totally are.”

“We’re colleagues.”

“Oiii, Gorilla!” Gintoki yells and Takasugi sighs loudly.

Kondo almost trips, threatening to drop Hijikata on the couch.

“Huh? Hey, not so loud, Toshi is out like a light…” He answers with an unhappy pout, lifting a finger to point at the man resting heavily against him.

“Haha, he sure is. Anyway, hey, Takasugi is your friend, right?”

Kondo smiles and straightens up in obvious pride. Gintoki snickers when he catches Takasugi rolling his eyes.

“Of course! We sailed through hail and high water together! Right, Sugi-san?”

“Hm.”

Gintoki laughs at Takasugi’s vague reaction, clearly unwilling to deny it. Because he knows it’s true yet can't bring himself to admit it. 

“Well, looks like that was your last storm together,” He says, lightly kicking Takasugi's foot with his own.

The man glares at him. Gintoki just smiles back and nods his head towards Kondo. 

“I sure hope so! Haha!”

“No,” Takasugi finally speaks and Gintoki feels something like pride bloom in his chest. “That’s not what he means.”

“Eh…?” Kondo blinks, oblivious smile still intact.

“I’m going to leave the company.”

Kondo’s face falls so dramatically Gintoki is tempted to laugh, but holds it back by biting his lips.

“W-what, but…? But Sugi-san?” He asks like a lost puppy. “All the hardships we conquered together…?”

“This job was always supposed to be a stepping stone anyway. Don’t be so surprised.”

“But!” He insists, turning back to face them fully, making Hijikata groan in the process. Kondo completely ignores him. “We’re such a good team, all of us! Kijima-san and Takechi-san and Gin-san—”

“Oh, I'm the only one who’ll remain. Sugi-kun is taking them both away, too,” Gintoki interjects.

Takasugi glares at him once more. Kondo almost chokes on his own breath, coughing in agony.

“W-what about Madao-san…?” He asks in fear.

“Madao stays with us.”

Kondo sighs deeply in relief, jostling Hijikata again.

“Do you want his contact?” Gintoki asks while indicating Takasugi with his thumb. “So you’ll stay in touch.”

Who sends him a murderous look for the third time.

“Oh!” Kondo exclaims, frantically nodding his head. “Yes! Of course! We could have lunch together sometimes!”

“Good idea!” Gintoki snickers, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll be sure to tag along, too.”

“Yes, we could have little reunions!” 

“Okay, give me your phone!”

“Oi…” Takasugi protests weakly but doesn’t try to stop them in any way.

Gintoki helps Kondo find his phone and adds two numbers in it, grinning to himself at how ‘Gin-san’ and ‘Sugi-san’ match pretty damn well. Thanks to Kondo and his overflowing enthusiasm at giving people short and cute nicknames. Gin-san and Sugi-san could make a pretty damn killer pair, really. One day everyone will refer to them as the Ginsugi guys. The Ginsugi pair. They could open a restaurant or something and have the Ginsugi special, and it will be something like two clashing flavours that only when combined a certain way come together perfectly to create the ultimate experience. They will top the charts on social media for months on end, and their rivals will wail in despair, unable to beat the power of the Ginsugi. And it will be glorious.

“There you go~” He says happily, giving Kondo his phone back.

“Thank you!” He yells with enthusiasm, tries to bow but remembers who’s resting on his shoulder a second later and immediately straightens back up, eyes wide.

Hijikata barely moves, only grumbling something and smacking his lips, drooling on Kondo’s shoulder.

“Okay, okay, you go take care of… that,” Gintoki says and snickers quietly, pointing at Hijikata.

“Yeah,” Kondo agrees with a fond smile towards his friend and pulls him upright. “Alright Toshi! Hold on!”

And with that, he turns and carefully stumbles his way out of the living room, a grumbling Hijikata on his back. Takasugi drops the closed and completed Uno box on the sofa and Gintoki turns his head to look at him.

“Was that necessary?” The man asks, yet doesn’t look bothered.

Gintoki laughs and walks up to him, simple joy sparkling in his blood. He wraps an arm around his shoulders and impulsively draws him close, fighting the urge to kiss him again.

“Stop, I know you’re relieved you’ll see him again,” He says sincerely.

Takasugi looks into his eyes for a long, drawn out moment that makes Gintoki feel naked. His smile becomes tight and he darts his eyes away, slowly letting go of him.

“I mean, we all know you're not as heartless as you try to appear.”

“Gintoki.”

“Yeah?” 

Now a bit farther away, Gintoki looks back. Takasugi stays silent, face slack compared to his usual frown. He opens his mouth but hesitates for a second, and suddenly Gintoki is afraid.

“Don’t say anything,” He urges him quietly.

“What do you think I'll say?” Takasugi asks in the same tone.

He doesn’t know, and all he wants is for things to be simple. He doesn’t want to hear anything that could sound like an end or a rejection, doesn’t want to hear anything accusatory, doesn’t want to hear any expectations, nothing at all.

“Let’s not think about it too hard, okay?” He tries, looking down and running a hand in his hair. 

“We were both drunk,” Takasugi says flatly.

“Yeah, I know, but… If you want to, we could still, I don’t know, try?”

“Hah,” Takasugi laughs sharply.

He stares at him and Gintoki has to stop himself from looking away and fleeing the room. Those weren’t the right words. He knows it, those are never the right words. But he doesn’t know what else there is to say. ‘I love you’ sounds too heavy to be true. ‘I want to be with you always’ is truer but carries a weight so big he doesn’t want to dump it on him either. He wants this to be light and carefree, he wants Takasugi to know he can walk away anytime he feels like it and Gintoki won’t stop him. He doesn’t want to be dead weight. Worse, he doesn’t want to drag him down. Because he knows, deep down, that this man is like that. The type who throws himself body and mind into his projects – even when that project happens to be a person – and disregards his own health in the process. He knows because he might be the same. And Gintoki cannot bear even imagining being that important. 

Takasugi is frowning at him, an unfamiliar harshness in his eyes.

“No. No need.”

Gintoki stays unmoving, barely blinking at this response and heart skipping a beat. He expected it, and even feels a wave of relief at those words. Yet…

“Yeah…” He says weakly, at a loss.

He feels hot suddenly, his blood racing wildly. What is this? This onslaught of sensation? The pain in his throat? Is he hurt? What does he actually want, now? He is assaulted by contradictory feelings, battling inside and leaving no clear victor. Takasugi sighs through his nose and shakes his head.

“You don’t have to commit to anything just because of one shitty kiss.”

“I was asking you,” Gintoki answers with rising annoyance. “Don’t be a coward and pin this on me.”

“Why ask when you know the answer,” Takasugi says without flinching, meeting his eyes with cold resolve. “It’s just like you to do stupid, thoughtless shit and then insist that it wasn’t a mistake, that it was totally intentional. Grow up. Admit it was just your regular drunken horniness and move on.”

“Ah, yeah, silly Gintoki who can't control himself and doesn’t give a shit about who, when, how, and just goes with the flow…”

He trails off and doesn’t finish the rant he intended to start. Isn’t it true? Hasn’t this been true for most of his life? Has he ever cared about anyone he’s kissed? The only exception to this is standing right before him, face closed and eyes harsh. And what if he’s wrong, then? What if Takasugi stops being an exception, what if Gintoki grows as uncaring and distant as he’s pretty consistently been anytime he’s tried being with someone, and what if he hurts him?

“Well, isn’t that how it goes?” 

Gintoki blinks and the familiar numbness finally kicks in, calming down the emotion with the snap of a finger. Maybe all he cares about are the shits and giggles, after all. The stupid moments of simple fun, instead of the seriousness required for commitments. The ability to escape any weight put on him, any expectation that he isn’t comfortable meeting. Relationships become boring and stifling the moment he’s asked to give more. Care more. They end the moment he’s called cold, the moment he’s called immature, the moment he’s accused of only being here for the fun times. And how could this ever be good enough for Takasugi?  

“Maybe that’s all I have to give,” He answers quietly, solidly meeting the other man’s gaze.

“Yeah,” Takasugi agrees and makes something in his belly burn, and what is he supposed to do with this? What is he supposed to say? “I’ve known for a long time we aren't exactly on the same page.”

Something about the words and how he says them sends a painful sting through Gintoki’s chest. It might as well have been a confession, but there is nothing he would hate more than to hear this man tell him he loves him. But Takasugi is also saying he has always believed Gintoki isn’t capable of giving him what he wants. And he’d be lying if he said that isn’t what he has been thinking all along as well. 

Everyone else insisted he says something, as if they were in a movie and everything would end well after that. He believed it himself, too, for a moment. That, maybe, with Takasugi things would be different. He has always felt so horribly comfortable around him. Always so easy, to relax for a second, to carve a hole in the fortress of his own heart, to show him all of his sides. The good, the bad, the ugly. The weak and the honest. He has always led a selfish life, always doing what’s comfortable for him and him only, and right now he aches to do this one more time. To be selfish one more time and insist, put his foot down, tell him I don’t care, it’s you I want and no one else. Because this was the reason for this terrible kiss tonight, the selfish belief that it doesn’t matter how inadequate he is for love. But if there is one person on this Earth Gintoki would die not to hurt, it is the man standing in front of him. So he nods weakly, holding his gaze still.

“I guess not.”

Takasugi looks away and Gintoki wants to take the words back. The other man is not someone who shows his emotions easily. He speaks them, sometimes, with disarming honesty. But his expressions are subtle, barely there, his face so dry Gintoki wonders if it will ever crack. And despite all this, his eyes are shiny in the dim living room light when they leave Gintoki’s axis. And this thing about dying not to hurt him? He didn't think it was this true, the agonising sensation climbing up his throat and setting his head on fire.

“But, I—...” He tries miserably. “I meant everything I said.”

“Alright,” Takasugi answers dismissively and slips a hand in his pocket, walking out of the living room.

“For real,” Gintoki says as he watches him leave, insides twisting and heart screaming. He knows if he lets him go like this, he will never come back. He needs to establish— something. Some selfish part of him still screeches for him to find a way to make him stay despite it all. “We’re… a good team.”

Takasugi stops in the corridor and chuckles dryly, opening his pack of cigarettes and looking at it for one long second.

“Save your breath. Haven’t I proved to you I can tolerate your friendship just fine?”

Gintoki stays silent while Takasugi barely gives him time to answer, shoving his feet in his shoes and leaving the house with a cigarette between his lips. The sound of the door closing echoes in Gintoki’s head for long seconds, the buzzing of still drunk and excited laughter coming from other places in the house adding to the vacuum opening inside of him, sucking everything dry until the world loses its colour.

“Oof… That was rough.”

He blinks, slowly turning his head to the right to meet Sakamoto’s blue eyes, his sunglasses shoved up on his head and tangled in his hair. He’s leaning on the wall connecting the living room to the kitchen, a packet of seaweed potato chips in his hand.

“Scram,” Gintoki grumbles hoarsely, rubbing at his face and deciding to crash on the sofa.

“Haha… Hey. Why did you ruin it right there?” Sakamoto asks, detaching himself from the wall and coming to sit beside him. Gintoki just groans. “No, really! It was such a good opportunity, and you started off so well with that cute little hug!”

“Shut up, seriously.”

“Maaan, you really are a piece of work. Haha! C’mon. You gotta fix this,” Sakamoto says enthusiastically and slaps Gintoki’s thigh.

“Ow! Urgh, Tatsuma I swear—”

“It’s not too late! I can’t be doing all the work for ya forever. You gotta pull in your own weight too!”

“Why is everyone so focused on this?!” Gintoki yells, removing his hand from his eyes when anger finally gets the better of him. “First the security guy and now you. You don’t know anything, okay?! You all talk as if you’re all so wise! Oh Gin-san you’re so stupid you should tell him how you feel gyah gyah,” He imitates in a high-pitched voice. “Maybe he’s better off not knowing, huh, have you thought about that?! Maybe it hurts less to think there’s nothing at all, instead of— instead of…” 

His voice cracks and he trails off, shuts his eyes, tired beyond anything he has ever felt before. To his credit, Sakamoto stays quiet for a while, letting him calm down before speaking quietly:

“Instead of what? Feeling the same?”

“Shut up.”

“Haha, hey, sorry but I really don't see how that’s worse!”

“Because you're stupid and your hair’s stupid and I hate you.”

“Oh, what’s happening here?” A third voice joins in from his right, followed by quiet quacking and Gintoki whines in frustration, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“Zura!” Sakamoto exclaims joyfully.

“Nothing is happening, leave me be.”

“Are you already feeling hungover? It’s a bit early to regret your life decisions, Gintoki.”

“Shut up.”

“Hahaha! Zura, you should cut him some slack! Kintoki just broke his own heart tonight.”

Gintoki removes his arm from his eyes to glare at his friend while Katsura raises his eyebrows.

“How? Did he meet himself from a parallel universe and his evil clone screwed up his love life? What love life are we even speaking of, isn’t he a dirty neet? That’s very unattractive.”

“I work a high paying job you bastard!”

“Debatable.”

“What is debatable about reality?! You want to see my paycheck?”

“Hahaha! Hey, call down, calm down. Ah, Zura, actually you could help!”

Gintoki immediately sits up straight like a rod, grabbing Sakamoto’s collar and yanking him close.

“Don’t you dare,” He whispers threateningly.

“Haha! But why? Zura is Takasugi's best friend!”

“Why is this a helpful thing?” Katsura asks and Gintoki ignores him to widen his eyes at Sakamoto in a silent plea.

“He can help,” Sakamoto tries to convince him anyway, and Gintoki is at least grateful that the idiot isn’t walking all over his refusal. “We’re all your friends, Gintoki.”

“I don’t want your help, I don’t want his help, I don’t need help, actually, I just want you to drop it.”

“Does this have anything to do with the evil clone situation?”

“Aw, come on Kintoki. You can’t leave things like this.”

“It’s none of your damn business, why do you always insist you know what’s good for us?”

“Does being Takasugi's friend grant me an advantage against the evil clone somehow?”

“Zura, shut up.”

“Zuraaa, do you see what I'm dealing with? Haha! Help!”

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura. Unless Takasugi is directly concerned by Gintoki’s love life, I don’t see how I could help. And it would be preposterous to think so! Worse than that, it would be slander!”

“Kintoki?” Sakamoto calls innocently, smiling and raising his eyebrows to invite him to correct that statement.

But he doesn’t need to say anything because this alone makes Katsura gasp loudly and Elizabeth quack.

“No. Sakamoto. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Haha! Depends! Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking you’re thinking?”

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking you’re thinking I'm thinking?”

“I’m leaving,” Gintoki says moodily and stands up, ready to head to bed and forget his entire life.

“Kintoki, waaaait! Cheer up! Like I said, it’s not too late. And this thing you said, ‘it’s all that I can give’?” Sakamoto imitates his voice — badly — before laughing and shaking his head. Gintoki grabs an abandoned glass of water, trying to drown out the voice of his friend. “That’s really not true, you know that, right?”

He feels his face twitch and annoyance fills his entire being, because it is true. It is true, and only Takasugi knows, because that’s the person who knows him best on this godforsaken planet. That's the person he wants to be open and honest with, not Sakamoto Tatsuma, not Katsura Koutaro, not anyone else. He didn't want those two idiots to overhear and make annoying remarks and scold him like he just pushed an old lady down. No one knows anything, except Takasugi Shinsuke who knows everything and why can’t they just let him brood in peace?!

“I’m going to sleep. ‘Night,” He says dismissively, exiting the living room with his glass of water.

“Eh, but…” Sakamoto protests only once before falling silent and letting him go.

Good. At least he has some sense. 

“Gintoki.”

He doesn’t stop, eager to escape Katsura’s judgement. But the man just raises his voice as Gintoki disappears down the corner:

“I will go check on him.”

Gintoki ignores him and climbs the stairs, feeling dizzy and exhausted. He opens the first bedroom door, only to be met with the sleeping forms of Hijikata, Sarutobi and Kijima all lumped in a weird mess on four different futons. He closes the door. Only Hasegawa is sleeping and snoring in the next room, so Gintoki picks that one and falls heavily on a futon, hugging his pillow to his face. Despite his friend’s snores, he all but passes out in a matter of seconds.

Chapter Text

Gintoki has one question in life. What exactly is wrong with him? Really. Why is it that everyone seems able to laugh and smile and fall in love and be mushy and affectionate, while he has only ever pursued relationships out of boredom or curiosity? Or opportunistic horniness, really. He isn’t especially proud of any of it. In fact, it only ever ended terribly. The funny thing is: he hasn’t cared once. None of those dramatic break-ups have ever affected him. He mostly just felt relief each time. He has been accused of many things: being cruel, being uncaring, too distant, suspected of cheating, slapped even, once. And he cannot say any of those accusations were particularly wrong. Well. The cheating accusation was unfounded, but not out of any miraculous virtue, more out of a lack of energy and opportunity. That doesn’t really work in his favour, does it? He didn't love any of those women. That was what they all had expected from him, understandably so. Back then, he thought actions were all that was needed. Endure a relationship for six months or more and you will get used to it, finally grow comfortable, finally love her. He figured it didn’t work like that when he experienced growing more distant as time went instead of the opposite. He concluded he was missing some core functions and couldn’t feel love at all.

That’s not exactly it, though. Now he understands, and he feels sorry for the women who loved him. (If they did.) Now, he understands. He understands, but he is so far behind everyone else he might as well just give up right now. He feels like a five-year-old when it comes to expressing those feelings he thought were absent. An extremely high level of inexperience. Supremely incompetent. The worst. Why does it look so simple when anyone else does it? Girls grabbing their boyfriend’s arm or guys wrapping an arm around their girlfriend's shoulders or giving a compliment, or expressing some appreciation, or…

Literally anything. 

He should have drank more yesterday. At least maybe he would have completely forgotten what happened. At least maybe he wouldn’t be experiencing— what, heartbreak ? Is that what this is?! Is that what he made those women feel? Well damn. Talk about karma.

Karma also made him pay for choosing the less crowded bedroom. Matsudaira crashed right on top of him at 4 AM, followed by Kondo fussing over his boss. Then Takechi opened and closed the door discretely and settled right next to him. Thirty minutes later it was Katsura — and fuck heartbreak for almost making him jump in fright at the sight of his friend, for wanting to make him crawl out of his own skin and hide in the seventh layer of the Earth — Katsura who cracked the door open, whispered stay here , and dropped his damn duck in the room. At 7 AM, Gintoki is the only one awake, Matsudaira’s meaty hand resting on his shoulder and Kondo drooling on his futon, Takechi’s creepy anime girl eye-mask staring at him on his left, and Hasegawa’s snoring as well as quiet duck sounds filling his ears. Ah, yes, correction: Gintoki and the duck are the only ones awake. He turns his head and glares at the animal.

“Ain’t life easy for you, huh? Just eating and shitting. I envy you. If I could just eat and shit all day without worry I'd be the happiest man on Earth.”

Elizabeth quacks and picks at its feathers. Gintoki pouts at the duck. 

“Did Zura abandon you? Guess he went and comforted his best friend. Why would he need comforting anyway, that wasn’t a great loss.”

He chuckles to himself, turning back to stare at the ceiling.

“He’s gonna kill me isn’t he…”

Well, good. It’s better than killing himself. He feels about ready to die of ‘feelings’ right now. Whatever they are. Fear, shame, anxiety, dread, whatever that rock in his stomach is. Whatever it is that makes him want to vomit his entire being in the toilets. Life just sucks, that’s all he has to say on the matter. It just sucks. Maybe he needs to go puke out those emotions, and then he’ll feel better. It’s like food poisoning. Just purge the system, and bam, as good as new.

He doesn't know what to do with himself. He hasn't felt this way since—... 

Well.

He has never felt this way at all. 

What the fuck. Couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut?! Why did he believe that stupid security guard? ‘You’ll regret it forever if you keep quiet’, my ass. It’s the opposite in fact. He knew from the very beginning that it would ruin everything. And it did. As predicted. Congratulations! Now they can’t even be friends anymore, which was really all Gintoki had ever dared ask of him. 

His phone vibrates under his thigh and his heart skips a beat, sinking into his stomach. What if it’s Takasugi? Worse, what if it’s Katsura? His life is hell. Everything is torture. Nothing is normal, nothing is simple, and he hates everything. Taking a deep steadying breath, he slowly uses his left hand to reach his phone and pull it towards his face, swallowing once before unlocking the screen.

Zura

You idiots are going to be the death of me. — 02:04 

I am speechless. — 02:04

Gintoki, would you mind giving me your side of this crazy story? There is a quiet voice in my head telling me not to trust this idiot’s words when he gets LIKE THAT. So please tell me he is, indeed, correct when he says this was just a matter of your being drunk-horny. — 02:06

Sakamoto spilled the beans. I knew it.  What the **** is wrong with you? Since when do you like him and why did you keep quiet? Or maybe you didn’t. Holy ****. He wouldn’t have believed anything you say anyway. Because no one can love Takasugi Shinsuke, am I right? ლ⁠(⁠ಠ⁠益⁠ಠ⁠ლ⁠⁠) — 03:17

I hate both of you. — 03:17

Sakamoto just informed me of the scene he witnessed. Are you serious? Do you wish death upon me? — 03:33

And Takasugi obviously did not mention that. I’m going to kill him. — 03:33

Scratch that, I'm going to kill YOU. Gintoki, did you really tell him “WHO CARES LET’S TRY”? Try? TRY? Like he’s some garment you found at a thrift store? Let’s not put labels on anything?! Oh, I'm sorry, we wouldn’t want THAT, would we? Oh, how dreadful would it be if people started thinking we’re — gag — a couple. Are you a homophobe, Gintoki? Is that the issue? Please see a therapist asap. — 03:39

Sakamoto is telling me to be gentle with you two but I am done. I am DONE (⁠┛⁠✧⁠Д⁠✧⁠)⁠)⁠┛⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻ — 03:40

You are both garbage. You deserve each other. — 03:40

Good morning Gintoki, I hope you slept well. Would you be so kind as to retrieve my dear Elizabeth from Matsudaira-san's house, please? I seem to have drunk a little too much yesterday night, if I recall correctly I left Elizabeth to sleep in one of the rooms upstairs. Thank you in advance, dear friend. — 07:13

He blinks at the mass of messages Katsura left him, reading them over and over until his heart calms down and he manages to make sense of them. So. Yeah. He forgot this is how Katsura gets when he's drunk. He has no right to judge him, though, damn it.

morning zura. you’re garbage too, leaving your child in a room full of strange grown men. i’m not a babysitter. — 07:22

and stay out of my business — 07:22

He drops his phone on his chest, sighing deeply through his nose. Does Katsura have a point? Well, it doesn’t matter either way. It’s not like Gintoki will suddenly develop an ability to be a loving and caring human being overnight, there’s no point dwelling on the ‘what-ifs’. Yet still, a sharp sting in his heart makes him pick up his phone and open his messaging app. His message history with Takasugi remains as it was yesterday, nothing new on the horizon. Well, yeah, that’s to be expected. He drops his phone and sighs again. It vibrates on his sternum a second later.

“Urgh, shuddup Zura,” He grumbles and raises it to eye-level once more.

Zura

Have you retrieved my precious child, then? — 07:25

He sighs and turns his head back to stare at the duck. 

—

Matsudaira calls him a taxi to get back home, and this is how he finds himself in the back of a car with a duck at eight o’clock, holding back a scream when Katsura forwards him his address.

i know where you live

we’re meeting outside

Zura

Don’t be a child, Gintoki.

Takasugi hasn’t come back yet, anyway.

He feels his heart constrict at that. He wants to ask if Katsura knows where he is and if he’s alright. But he’s done enough damage, now is the time to lay low and disappear. He writes that he will be there in twenty minutes and locks his screen before rubbing at his eyes. He’s not hungover, but almost. He just wants to stop existing.

—

Katsura looks like crap when he answers the door. His hair is a mess and he is wearing penguin pyjamas, but his not-quite-sober eyes light up the moment he sees his duck in Gintoki’s arms.

“Eli!” He exclaims and reaches for it. Gintoki gladly lets him take the animal. “I’m so sorry! I have been irresponsible, how can I make it up to you?”

He scoops the duck in his arms and scratches at its neck, the animal quacks in quiet satisfaction. Gintoki turns away while he is distracted.

“We have to thank your saviour, of course. Gintoki!”

“No, I'm good, it’s fine.”

“No! Come in, come in.”

Katsura grabs his sleeve and forcefully pulls him inside, and Gintoki lets it happen with a sigh. He doesn’t have the energy to fight today.

Stepping inside the apartment he has shared with Takasugi for two months makes his stomach twist, and he stares at the worn sofa, the coffee table, the faded wooden floor and the coat hanger that makes this place lived-in but cheap. He liked being here. He didn’t think about it while it lasted, but coming back here makes the feeling hit him like a ton of bricks. He liked being here. 

“Do you want to drink anything? Coffee? Tea?” Katsura asks as he puts his duck down and walks towards the kitchen.

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” Gintoki answers and removes his shoes, morose and angry at the same time. He wants to leave as soon as possible. 

“It will be tea, then!”

Gintoki says nothing more and drops his weight on the sofa. The world feels too heavy to bear at this instant. He is still wondering if Takasugi is alright and where he spent the night. Maybe with Kawakami. It would be twisted, but a little funny. At least Kawakami seems like a normal person, and not some dysfunctioning human being missing a few parts here and there. He hates the mental image, still. What a selfish bastard he is.

“When did you get back? And how? Do you even have your driving license?” He asks loudly, desperate to distract himself from those thoughts.

“Early in the morning, Sakamoto called a taxi. Why would I need a driving license anyway, I live in Tokyo.”

“I have a driving license.”

“You don’t own a car.”

“Yeah.”

Katsura walks into the living room with two fuming mugs and is frowning at him. This conversation was pointless. Which means he will now start the real conversation, and Gintoki’s mouth turns down.

“I don’t wanna hear about it, Zura. I’m tired.”

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura,” His friend says and leaves the mugs on the coffee table before sitting down next to him. “My memories from last night are blurry but I remember clearly being angry at you. So, clear this one up for me: are you in love with Takasugi?”

Gintoki says nothing, reaches for a mug, and mumbles a thank-you. Katsura shakes his head and stares at the ceiling.

“I can’t believe you. I don’t know who to feel sorry for, anymore.”

Gintoki ignores him again and just blows air on his tea.

“You know, it makes me wonder how many signs you have given him and he has willfully ignored. And at the same time, how many times you have metaphorically shut the door in his face.”

“It’s none of your business anyway, Zura,” He says weakly.

Katsura scoffs.

“No, I know it’s none of my business. You both agree on this. Which is why I have been lacking important information for years! Can you imagine what it’s like for me?! My best friend could have been getting laid this entire time, had I had the whole context!”

“How about no?!” Gintoki shouts back, giving up on his too-hot drink and slamming the mug on the coffee table. “Do you really think I could have been a fine boyfriend ten years ago?! The answer is no! And it's still no today! And I'm tired of getting in his way, okay?! So I'll finally back off, and let him live his life like I should’ve done in the first place.”

Silence follows his outburst and he just sighs, closes his eyes, and falls against the back of the sofa. He wants a drink. He never wants to be sober again in his life.

“What is ‘a fine boyfriend’, in your opinion?”

“Shut up Zura.”

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura. I’m curious. Do you have high standards or are you talking about the bare minimum?”

Gintoki ignores him. Katsura hums, picks up his mug, sips at his tea, and then says:

“I don’t think Takasugi would make a better boyfriend than you, if that makes you feel better.”

“ I don’t think Takasugi would make a better boyfriend than you, ” Gintoki imitates him in a stupid voice.

“Don’t you want to be an adult about this?”

“No.”

“Fine then,” Katsura says simply and takes his tea to his lips, all proper and back straight. “If you are too scared to take the plunge, at least tell him so. Tell him you’re not actually straight, and actually into him, but just too afraid to be with him. He doesn’t know that.”

Gintoki stays resolutely silent, scowling at the carpet. This isn’t a conversation he ever imagined having with Katsura, of all people, and not a subject he’s ever been particularly comfortable with. Which is just one more reason why he’s no good as a potential life-partner for someone like Takasugi.

“I’m not—... scared. It just works better this way.”

“What, being not-quite-friends because you are both pinning for the other like idiots? This wasn’t working in the first place. Now is your chance to try something different.”

“And what if it’s worse, huh? What if—”

—I disappoint him? He clamps his mouth shut and doesn’t voice the rest of that thought, feeling small and ridiculous. Katsura only shrugs.

“Then you will both know that you are incompatible. And move on. It’s completely possible to stay friends with your exes, too.”

“Yeah, that’s debatable…” He grumbles and adjusts his crossed arms against his chest, feeling even more tense than before. “I don’t want to be anyone’s boyfriend Zura, so drop it already.”

Katsura sighs deeply and turns on his side to stare at him. Gintoki holds his gaze for a few seconds before looking away like a petulant child.

“Fine. I just don’t want you to be needlessly cruel. So be sure to have a proper conversation with him, or I will know and I will sentence you to a life of torture.”

“Gyah gyah you’re his best friend, I know,” He grumbles and stands up, eager to leave this place already.

“You didn’t drink your tea.”

“Sorry, I'm not thirsty.”

Gintoki steps over the duck to get around the coffee table and walk towards the entrance, and Katsura watches him in silence. He only opens his mouth again when Gintoki is putting on his shoes:

“I am aware he’s difficult. If you’re planning a confession, let me know, and I'll gently prepare him for the eventuality.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” He mumbles and leaves the apartment, heart beating uncomfortably fast.

He was already supposed to confess last night, and it made him painfully aware of how bad he is at it. He stands unmoving on the other side of the closed door, gaze lost on the stairs going down. It’s strange, but, maybe that was Katsura’s way of giving him his blessing. He doesn’t like it. It’s just one more person to disappoint, and one more friend to lose if things go south. But maybe he’s right. Maybe things have been going south for years now, and this is their chance to correct the trajectory. Gintoki sighs quietly, bringing a hand to his eyes. He doesn’t like it. He feels his fingers tremble on his brow and he doesn’t like this. 

Fuck. Yeah, that’s what people mean when they say love makes you cry. He gets it, alright. He doesn’t lack a heart like he thought he did, okay. He blinks his eyes several times, trying to shake off the weight in his throat and choke back the tears. Fuck everything. He’s not ready for any of this. 

He lets his hand drop by his side and walks down the stairs. He should call in sick for Monday.

—

It turns out he doesn’t need to pretend to be sick, because the belly burns and nausea are back by Sunday. He unblocks Matsudaira's number to send him a dramatic text about being terribly sick and needing the whole week to recover. The man answers quickly, informing him that maybe some of the food was bad because Hijikata is also sick. Gintoki snickers to himself, closing the messaging window to look up clinics online.

What was his story again, something about liking a married woman? But no, it wasn’t like Katsura. Gintoki remembers feeling more sympathy, it was something more tragic. He loved a woman but lost his chance and she married someone else, wasn’t it? Ah, yes. That’s why he insisted Gintoki say something to Takasugi, because regrets are a pain to deal with. Well, he has plenty of regrets now, anyway. 

His train of thought comes to a stop, circling around the word ‘regret’. There’s a certain clinic he knows will be open at this hour. He has spent so much time thinking he was ‘just’ lacking a few functions, he only now realises that perhaps he was simply being the regular brand of ‘bad boyfriend’. What if he’s normal, in the end, and will only be one of the many stories women tell each other about their terrible exes? The thought brings him comfort, despite how unflattering it is. Sakata Gintoki, just a regular guy, who has normal stories about failed relationships. Not because he’s heartless, just because he’s human and figuring things out as he goes. 

Katsura’s words about staying friends with your exes come back to him, and he searches for the clinic Tsukuyo works at, fingers slow on the keyboard. She didn’t deserve to deal with the bumbling mess of a person he was back then. Maybe he should tell her. But, first, she’s a doctor and he needs a doctor.

Thirty minutes later, he walks inside the waiting room and gingerly sits down in a free seat. It’s pretty embarrassing to be back here. He has to argue with himself tirelessly to keep himself seated, waiting long, agonising minutes until he becomes the next patient in line. When another doctor comes for him, he asks for Tsukuyo specifically and waits ten more minutes. It’s unnerving. He bounces his leg, eyes shifting to the clock on the wall every ten seconds.

When she arrives he stands up, walking slowly into view. Tsukuyo stops, surveying him for a second with her eyebrows raised.

“Uh, Gintoki. Welcome back.”

“Hello,” He waves and offers a forced smile.

Her professional mask slips back on her face and she straightens up, gesturing for him to follow her to the front desk.

“What brings you this time?”

“Stomach pain,” He says under his breath, staring at the corner of the room.

“Again?”

“Yes.”

Tsukuyo stays quiet for a second, as if consciously holding back her honest answer to this. Gintoki waits out the silence like a man going to the scaffold. 

“Alright, follow me.”

He nods and stares at her shoes as he follows her to the examination room.

“Same symptoms?” She asks as she closes the door.

He sits down on the comfy patient chair and answers ‘ uh-huh ’ dispassionately.

“It’s been less than two months since last time. Did you really follow my instructions?” 

Tsukuyo sits as well and doesn’t even move to examine him. He makes a face and looks away at the few drawings of children on the walls.

“Maybe not to the letter.”

“Gintoki.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll do better this time.”

“Don’t let this become chronic,” She sighs and crosses her arms. “Do you think adding a prescription to help manage stress would help?”

“No,” He answers quickly and a long silence follows.

He scratches his knee. Tsukuyo doesn’t move an inch. Damn, she’s making him nervous.

“Any anxiety?” She asks next and he laughs.

“No, no, okay, you’ve got it all wrong. I must have eaten something bad, I don’t know. I’m not stressed or anxious or anything.”

“Your stomach is telling a different story.”

“My stomach is weak, that’s all.”

“Any other patient, I would have left it at that,” She says quietly and lowers her head, finally looking away.

“Just give me the meds. I’ll respect the instructions this time, I swear.”

Tsukuyo looks up and their eyes meet in a silent, painful moment. Her eyebrows are furrowed and her mouth twisted in an unsatisfied pout. And at this instant, he remembers with perfect clarity what she wanted to do after high school. She mentioned med school, but what she wanted was to become a therapist. The type of professional who listens to people vomit their pain.

“It’s the divorce,” He says quickly, without thinking.

She blinks and straightens up slightly, her frown gone.

“Sorry?”

“It’s the divorce,” He repeats, surer this time. “Okay? Happy? I’m divorced. It’s recent. I still don’t need anxiety drugs.”

“You…” She says and her shoulders drop and her eyebrows stay up high on her forehead. “... were married?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Congratulations. I mean—” She brings a hand to her mouth and widens her eyes, Gintoki holds back a laugh. “No, not congratulations. I’m sorry, my condolences. No, wait—”

“Wow, you would’ve been a shit therapist.”

“Shut it,” She groans and hits his knee with a slap of her hand, her face red. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through either way. How long did it last?”

“Dunno, a few years,” He lies impulsively. Not the first time he’s done that when it comes to him and Takasugi, there is some sick satisfaction in pretending something was there for a time. “It just didn't work out in the end.”

“Have you given yourself some time to think about it? Just let yourself feel?”

“Hah,” He laughs and looks down at the white tile with a bitter smile. “It’s all I've been thinking about these past few months. No wonder my body’s upset.”

“Well, usually, the body is upset when the pain is not dealt with. Do you feel sad? Have you cried?”

He looks up, expression neutral, and doesn't answer. Tsukuyo gives him a tight smile and nods once.

“As I thought.”

“What, so, I just need to cry and then I'll be as good as new?”

“No, you need to accept the pain of that separation.”

“I do. Clearly it sucks.”

“What does?” She asks.

Gintoki shrugs and darts his eyes away.

“It’s universally recognised that divorce sucks.”

“You have to think about your own feelings. What is it you’ll miss?”

He pauses and thinks for a second. What will he miss? He will miss being himself. He will miss feeling human. Feeling understood. He will miss Takasugi’s easy smile when it’s past midnight and he already has a few beers down in his system. He will miss witnessing him take the space he should. Being by his side to see it. Ah, damn. He knows exactly what she means when a tight knot of emotion starts forming in his throat and he forcibly swallows it down. 

“You know what, not much actually. She was kind of annoying. Ahh, I feel much better,” He exclaims and stands up, stretching his arms over his head. “Thanks doc.”

Tsukuyo rolls her eyes and stands up as well, muttering:

“This is exactly what you're doing wrong.”

Gintoki ignores her remark and lets her open the door to lead them both out. At the doorway, he watches the back of her blond hair and remembers being a teenager with a panicked heart and seeing this girl as a means to an end.

“I’m sorry,” He mutters quietly when they leave the room and Tsukuyo glances back at him with her eyebrows raised.

“For what?”

He stops right after the doorway, granting them relative privacy. She turns fully to face him, her face growing more serious. He blinks and doesn't let himself hesitate.

“I was in love with someone else.”

Tsukuyo doesn’t move, her face fixed as she fully listens. Gintoki cannot hold that gaze and smiles bitterly, his eyes shifting down to the tile. He’s done anyway, he won’t say any more.

“I see... I’m sorry as well. I should have given you a cleaner breakup than a slap on the face and never showing my face again.”

“Guess we’re even,” He says with a shrug.

“Yes,” Tsukuyo says and he hears the smile in her voice before seeing it on her face.

They walk back into the waiting room and she prepares the pills for him. He gets called to the front when she’s done, she takes his insurance card and gives him his papers and stack of pills with instructions. He takes them and she lingers, her eyes curious.

“The divorce,” She says quietly and Gintoki twists his mouth. “Is it with the person you loved back then?”

He sighs. He doesn’t have the heart to lie anymore.

“Yeah.”

“I thought so. If you need to talk, or if you want a recommendation…”

“Yes. Thanks doc,” He says and slips the meds and papers in his bag. 

“Take care.”

He smiles and waves her goodbye, leaving the clinic with a heavy heart. He can’t tolerate this lie that he told himself for so long anymore. This lie that drove him to break hearts like hers, when the reality is that he loves Takasugi. He’s most likely loved him for a while. And he is pretty sure he will love this idiot until the day he dies.

As he goes through the automatic doors and steps onto the street, he wonders if this is how Hijikata feels about his own lost love. After all, the man is sick as well today. Maybe they all go through this. Maybe it’s a rite of passage. For what? For idiothood. An entry to dumbassville. Welcome to Forever-Alone city, where love passes you by and you watch it go like a cow watches a train. He snickers to himself as he crosses a sidewalk, hands in his pockets. On a whim, he takes his phone out and sends Kondo his first message, asking for Hijikata’s number. 

They’re friends. Friends commiserate. (He also cannot miss the chance to witness someone who has it worse than him.) (If seeing the security guy being miserable doesn’t lift his mood, then he’ll visit Hasegawa.)

—

An hour later, he finds himself ringing the doorbell of a ground floor apartment and Kondo Isao opens the door with a pained smile on his face.

“Hello Gin-san! It’s nice of you to visit, Toshi is sick.”

“And you’re taking care of him like a dutiful wife,” He answers blandly and cranes his neck to look inside.

Kondo laughs and steps aside, ushering him in.

“Haha! Well, we’ve been friends for so long we’re like family, it’s only natural.”

“Yeah,” He says simply and doesn’t comment further.

He cannot say he relates. The only one who would get a pass for taking care of him while sick is Takasugi, and Takasugi is far past the ‘friend’ label. He envies simple-minded people with simple lives like Kondo. Where what is deemed ‘natural’ or not is clear to them and not up for debate.

“Did you recover from Friday night?” Kondo asks as he closes the door and Gintoki removes his shoes, taking in the interior.

“As well as I can at my age.”

The apartment is clean and simple, a wooden sideboard on his right with a cup for the keys and a plastic plant on it. He walks in a little deeper and finds narrow stairs on the left and a sliding door leading into a cramped kitchen on the right, the toilets stuck neatly in between.

“The living room is upstairs,” Kondo says and goes past him to climb the stairs.

Gintoki follows, staring at the old historical paintings on the wall. Compared to Takasugi and Katsura, the occupant here cares about the space. He keeps his amusement to himself, noticing the lack of dust and remembering all of the times he called Hijikata a janitor.

He was thinking ‘friend’ derisively before, but maybe they are friends, after all. Commiserating seems about right. He should walk in dramatically and solemnly announce that he has failed, they are both losers in the end, and the three of them should get to an izakaya and drink themselves silly—

Ah, no. No alcohol when the stomach is hurting. Right.

Gintoki looks at Kondo’s back when they get to the top of the stairs. The gorilla doesn’t even know the entire story. But why not, after all? Why not just vomit it all here, with these two weirdos who have absolutely no room to judge him? They don’t have Katsura or Sakamoto’s knowledge of all of Gintoki’s past mistakes.

“Hey,” He calls quietly just as he hears someone groan from the next room.

Kondo turns around, eyebrows high and a smile on his face.

“Yes, Gin-san?”

People like him make things easy. Gintoki understands why he’s liked. He never judges anything or anyone, always choosing to believe in the best everyone has to offer. He’s an amazing friend to have, and Gintoki understands why Hijikata is so protective of their bond.

“I told the sick guy over there some pretty embarrassing things the other night. Everything I'll say in this room stays between us, got it?”

“Oh,” Kondo turns to fully face him and brings a hand to his head in a military salute. “Got it! Don’t worry, Toshi and I always tell each other embarrassing stuff, we’ll be as silent as graves.”

“Good,” He nods and Kondo turns back around to guide them into the living room.

It’s a small space, with a narrow black sofa that is too small for the man lying on it, a plain beige carpet, a bookcase and a square TV in the corner. The man in question lifts his arm from over his eyes and glares in their direction.

“What’s he doin’ here…” He grumbles in a nasally voice and Kondo chuckles, walking up to him and crouching in front of the sofa.

“He’s here to check on you, Toshi!”

“Bullshit…”

“Oi,” Gintoki protests, looking around for another seat. There’s none. “Be grateful I remembered the state you were in the other night and found it in my heart to care. It’s a rare thing.”

Hijikata huffs and covers his eyes once again.

“You’re worsening my headache. If you’re just here to make sure I won’t talk about what I witnessed then you didn’t need to come. I’m not that much of a bastard.”

Gintoki stays unmoving in the middle of the room while Kondo laughs awkwardly and sends him a look over his shoulder. Gintoki sighs and drops his weight on the carpet, sitting cross-legged.

“You can forget what you saw anyway. I screwed it up.”

Hijikata turns his head, frowning at him with his running nose and eye-bags. 

“How? How the fuck did you do that? You were all over each other.”

Kondo’s head snaps up curiously, his eyes boring into Gintoki, waiting for an answer. Gintoki looks away towards the bookcase, twisting his mouth.

“I just did. I’m amazing like that.”

“Fucking seriously?”

Gintoki doesn’t answer, furrowing his eyebrows in annoyance. Kondo clears his throat.

“Err… Gin-san. Are we— talking about Sugi-san, or…?”

“No, we’re talking about Sacchan.”

“Oh! Really?! I would have never guessed!”

Hijikata groans loudly and Gintoki represses a smile despite the uncomfortable subject of conversation.

“Kondo-san, he’s shitting you. Yes, we’re talking about Takasugi.”

“Ah, yeah, I see. It makes more sense,” Kondo nods, as if it did make sense.

As if it was a natural thing as well, as natural as visiting your friend when he’s sick. Not even up for debate. A painful knot forms in his throat again, and he willfully ignores it.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” He says with a weak shrug. “What’s done is done, so you were right. We do have things in common.”

Hijikata shakes his head and Kondo throws him a worried look.

“No, you fucker. It’s completely different.”

“We’re talking about Mitsuba, huh…” Kondo sighs sadly and Gintoki stays quiet.

The silence stretches for uncomfortable seconds, Kondo looking at them both in turn with a pained wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“It’s not the same,” He ends up confirming when neither Hijikata nor Gintoki dares continue the conversation. “Gin-san… Toshi turned Mitsuba down because he didn’t believe he could offer her a bright future.”

“Kondo-san—!” Hijikata protests, flailing an arm in his face to stop him. 

“We’re all friends here!” Kondo insists and catches Hijikata’s wrist. “Real men let their friends see their wounds!”

“He’s not a friend, he’s HR.”

“We rode on the VIP car together,” Gintoki says flatly. “We’re friends, of course.”

He’s too curious. He wants to hear the story. If maybe, someone is as insane as he is, he wants to hear it. Hijikata glares at him.

“Then you go first.”

“Huh?”

“What’s your deal with Takasugi anyway? You’re exes? Just friends like you said? And how the fuck did you screw it up when all the stars were lining up for you?”

Gintoki sighs, irritated.

“Whatever. No. Yes. And like I said: I just did. I should have said some words, I didn’t. Happy? Your turn.”

“You didn’t say the words? So, what, you just jumped him and then said nothing?”

“I didn’t ‘jump him’, I— it was very romantic and very consensual okay?! But we were also pretty drunk and that didn’t help. Why am I even telling you that, you creepy voyeur.”

“I didn’t ask to be subjected to your disgusting PDA, I am the victim here.”

“Ohh!” Kondo exclaims, interrupting their pointless argument. “Sorry, I can’t help but ask: Toshi what did you see? What happened?”

“They kissed,” Hijikata answers plainly at the same time Gintoki hurries to shout: nothing!

“OH!” Kondo repeats, louder, with sparkles in his eyes and a widening grin.

“It was just one kiss,” Gintoki justifies immediately. “And you arrived after it, anyway. There was no PDA.”

“So just one kiss, no asking, and no words afterwards either,” Hijikata summarises in a bored tone and Gintoki shrinks on himself.

“Well, it’s salvageable!” Kondo says with enthusiasm, nodding encouragingly at Gintoki. “Just call him, apologise, and say the words that matter!”

“No,” He says and and his palms leave the carpeted ground as he slouches forward in defeat. “He’s better off with someone else.”

“Ah—” Kondo stutters and shifts around while Hijikata sighs loudly.

“Unless he ends up with an asshole who cheats and doesn’t give a shit about him.”

“That what she did?”

“He’s rich, at least. Silver linings.”

“Toshi didn’t graduate high school,” Kondo says quietly, looking Gintoki in the eyes, and Hijikata waves his arm in his face in protest once more. Kondo just grabs his wrist again. “Back then, his future was… a little bleak. He thought anyone would be better than him.”

“Yeah, and maybe I was wrong. Maybe some real damn scum exist on this earth, and I didn’t consider she’d go for one of those guys. But so what? There’s nothing I can do now,” Hijikata goes on quietly, voice weakened by a few coughs. “You, though, have a high paying job and nothing to be ashamed of except your annoying personality. So stop whining and go for it, you loser.”

Gintoki takes a breath, ignoring half of his speech when he says:

“I stopped you before because you were completely wasted, not for anything else. So maybe you stop whining and go for it. Coward.”

Kondo turns his head and smiles.

“She sent him a message.”

“Kondo-san!”

“He hasn’t answered yet but he will. Toshi’s not a coward.”

“It’s not a significant message or anything,” Hijikata groans and Kondo lets go of his wrist when he moves to cover his eyes once more. “It’s just asking me if I'm alright because I tried to call past midnight. Which is your fault, HR.”

“Nah, it was your idea.”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re giving me a headache.”

Gintoki chuckles, and Kondo quietly grins at him while Hijikata keeps himself hidden from the world. 

At least he somehow managed to do something good on that night.

—

Zura

Gintoki, unblock Sakamoto.

Stop being a child.

Takasugi came back home today, by the way. I’m trying to get him used to the idea.

“I hate you all,” Gintoki mumbles, lying on his desk chair when he finally comes back home at 6 PM. 

‘Home’, meaning the office. He didn’t take this into consideration when he decided he will hibernate for a week pretending to be sick. He’s tired of being stupid sometimes. If Takasugi had been here he would have immediately noticed the flaw in his plan.

stop playing matchmaker zura 

Zura

Gintoki, UNBLOCK SAKAMOTO.

Of course you don’t know what I'm talking about, you blocked his number like a child throwing a tantrum.

Unblock him.

Gintoki sighs deeply, goes to Sakamoto’s messaging window, and unblocks him.

what

zura said to unblock you what is it again

Sakamoto Tatsuma

Aaaahh finally!! Hello! Hahahaha

I’m leaving Japan at the end of the month, I know things are a liiittle bit tricky between you and Takasugi right now BUT…! 

I’d love to spend some time with all my school buddies before I go 🥺

Soooo pretty please? The four of us, one day in Shizuoka prefecture? I’ll plan an itinerary and everything 

Me

just one day?

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

One!! I promise. It won’t be as awkward as you fear, I can totally fill the silences 😄

If there are any! Maybe by then you’ll actually be a couple hahahaha!

Me

shut up

when?

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

The 16th, two weeks from now.

It will involve some walking! 

Me

okay fine

Sakamoto Tatsuma 

Woo!! Thank you!! 

Sakamoto sends him pictures and asks where he’d rather go, Gintoki answers without much enthusiasm. He has two weeks to get over his first broken heart, then. Two weeks of being in close proximity, because he still doesn’t have a place to live. 

Why do all of his choices always end up being disastrous? 

—

When Monday comes, the cramps are the worst even after a day of treatment. Gintoki wakes up with a stone in his belly instead of all the normal organs and his stomach gurgles unhappily when he puts a hand there. He sighs.

Yeah, he’s unhappy, too. 

He gently pats his belly and starts speaking to it in a quiet tone:

“I know, I know. You’re upset, I'm upset, Takasugi is upset, everyone is upset. Look, I'm sorry. I did everything wrong, from start to finish. And maybe you were trying to warn me before, like: ‘woops, wrong course of action, try something else immediately’, but I just ignored your ancient wisdom. I’m sorry, oh great organ. What is it you’re trying to tell me this time? I’ll listen, I promise. Send me a sign or something.”

The sign comes, the door from the next room opening and creaking close and Gintoki groans, squeezing his eyes shut. There is no way the dead-eyed creep is the sign. Or is there? Maybe that guy has some ancient wisdom to offer. Katsura, Hijikata or Kondo only have stupid advice like “talk to him, idiot” as if everything really was that simple. It’s not simple at all and he probably needs people with higher intelligence to give him correct advice. 

He pulls himself up, cradling his stomach with a hand like a newborn child, and reaches for the desk drawer where he keeps his underwear. Only to freeze when he hears the sound of the coffee machine from the open space.

The dead-eyed creep doesn’t take coffee. He said it gives him the jitters. Kondo prefers tea, and he usually comes in last anyway. Which leaves Kijima, or…  

His stomach flips, and suddenly it’s like he’s swallowed a grenade. Oh no, come on. Does fate have to be this cruel?

He strains his ears, catching the familiar cadence of Takasugi's footsteps as they cross the open space. Steady and purposeful. 

Gintoki’s heart rate spikes. What if he comes in here? What if Takasugi came earlier than Takechi on purpose specifically to confront Gintoki while he’s half-asleep and in his dog-printed pyjamas at the hour where he lacks dignity? Just to yell at him for being a bastard who keeps coming onto him like it’s an Olympic sport and he has a particularly demanding training regimen. And all this only to end up dead last, too.

What’s more likely is Takasugi going back to angry avoidance and Gintoki will just have to suck it up and move on like he did before. His palms are sweating and he’s gripping his desk like it’s a lifeboat in a storm. Why isn’t he like Sakamoto, leaving Japan and migrating to New Zealand sounds incredibly appealing right now.

He can’t deal with this today. He needs to leave.

He glances toward the door, its smooth dark surface mocking him. Will he just stay cooped up in here for the entire day? Like a caged animal, punished for his misbehaving. How will he even go to the bathroom? Maybe he could grab a stack of papers and hide his face as he goes. Maybe he could feign a heart attack and call an ambulance to take him away from here.

The footsteps get louder.

He freezes, his fingers tightening on the desk. He doesn’t dare move now, too afraid of making a sound and giving himself away.

The sounds pause right outside his office. Gintoki stops breathing. 

A beat passes. And Takasugi moves on.

The footsteps fade, and Gintoki slumps back, heart pounding like a drum solo gone wrong. Is he relieved or disappointed? He can’t even tell. Why is everyone badgering him about confessing, why would it have to be him? After all, if they’re all so sure that something good could come out of this, why aren’t they pestering Takasugi to accost him instead? But he knows the answer, despite how annoying it is. Takasugi is stubborn as hell. More than him, which is saying something. In all likelihood, he gave up on this possibility the moment it started existing in his head. Which is the most intelligent thing to do, Gintoki won’t fight to change his mind when what he brings to the table is limited to tasty cooking and funny jokes. That Takasugi doesn’t even laugh at anyway.

The room feels too quiet, and he can’t stop thinking about how Takasugi was just there, in front of his door, hesitating, only to give up on whatever he wanted to say. He’s in a bad mood now.

It’s going to be a long day.

—

Gintoki should have known they couldn’t avoid crossing each other for the entire day. He made sure to spy on the open space and seize the right opportunity to leave for his bathroom breaks when Takasugi wasn’t there, but by three in the afternoon, his luck decides to run out. He blinks as the door to the printer room opens and when he turns around as a reflex, there stands Takasugi.

He’s frozen in the doorway, one hand on the handle and the other carrying a sheet of paper, like a deer in the headlights. His expression is unreadable at first, then his brow furrows slightly, like he’s just remembered he should be mad. But it’s not anger, exactly, or even frustration. More like the face you make when you spot a puddle you could step around but will probably just end up wading through anyway.

“Hi,” He says. 

It’s not unkind, but it’s not warm either. Just neutral. Gintoki stays unmoving, not expecting him to act so normal. 

“Hi,” He replies flatly. 

Their voices echo slightly in the small room, accompanied by the whirring sound of the printer spitting out page after page of some new guy’s onboarding guide. Usually, Gintoki would have been excited that Takasugi started the interaction and would have eagerly followed with something dumb. And would have ended up inevitably hitting on him in one way or another. Which is not normal behaviour, he knows now, he’s very very aware of this now, but what else does he say then?

Takasugi shifts his weight, breaking eye contact as he stares at the printer, still not moving. “I meant to give you my resignation letter today.”

“Oh, yeah. Right,” Gintoki nods, wiping the sweat of his palm on his trousers. “I’ll, uh— I’ll make sure the transition is smooth.”

Unlike him, who is not smooth at all. As smooth as sandpaper, in fact.

“Yeah,” Takasugi says aimlessly, nodding once. “I’ll leave it on your desk by the end of the day, then.”

There’s a silence. Not any easy, comfortable silence, but something brittle, awkward, and so heavy it feels like it could shatter if either of them breathes too loudly. Then the printer stops and Gintoki’s eyes go back to it, staring at the pile of papers waiting for him. 

“Yeah, good,” He agrees quietly and picks up the papers before turning back to Takasugi and offering a small smile. “I'm done, go ahead.”

Gintoki steps away from the printer and Takasugi gives a quiet nod. They pass each other in silence as Takasugi walks in and Gintoki walks out. 

He finds an envelope on his desk at the end of the day when he comes back from his bathroom break. He leaves it for tomorrow.

—

“You cannot let him go!” Matsudaira roars like an angry bear, throwing a pile of papers on the ground with a swipe of his arm. “He has earned me millions of yen in under a week, do you even understand?!”

“Yeah,” Gintoki answers plainly from the comfy seat near the window. “But he’s resigned already, you can't force him to stay.”

“No, but we can change his mind. What are his demands? Double his salary.”

Gintoki laughs under his breath, looking outside.

“Don’t think that’ll work.”

“What does he want, then?”

“To do what he wants to do.”

“He’s perfectly free to do what he wants here!” Matsudaira exclaims, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Give him a private office, there’s plenty of room on the third floor.”

“It’s not about space, or money, or whatever you wanna give him,” Gintoki sighs, gaze dropping to the ground. “He wants to move forward, and I'm warning you: I won’t let you interfere.”

Matsudaira falls silent, the weight of his words filling the room. Then he huffs, ruffling through his desk cupboards and the sound of a lighter clicking resonates in his office. 

He doesn’t argue further, only grumbles ‘lovesick fool’.

—

By the following Monday, the dancing around each other between him and Takasugi has settled into a rhythm. Their interactions feel plastic, it sends Gintoki years into the past. When he was a child and he couldn’t seem to relate to anyone his age, the other children’s conversations insipid and meaningless while he stood there unwilling to engage. Then he turned into a teenager who wanted to fit in, at least a little bit, and this is when the plastic interactions began. Until he met Katsura and Takasugi, who made him feel a little more normal.

He's never had those empty interactions with Takasugi before, because Takasugi has zero capacity for surface-level anything. He walks around with a quiet intensity that has always drawn Gintoki’s eyes. But it looks like he can tone it down, too, and Gintoki hates it. So it’s not avoidance exactly, more like a deliberate removal of something that is an integral part of who he is.

And Gintoki hates it more than anything he has ever hated before.

By Wednesday, he gets a text from Sakamoto giving him the time and place to meet on the 16th, which is next Sunday. And maybe there won’t be any awkward silences, but he and Takasugi definitely won’t be a couple by then and instead, it might just be annoying plastic conversations that serve no purpose. 

i think i’m feeling sick|

He doesn’t get to finish his poor excuse to try and cancel, a knock on his door interrupting him. He lifts his head and Takasugi enters quietly, which makes his heart race not-so-quietly. Gintoki straightens up, slowly putting his phone down on his desk. 

“Am I bothering you?” Takasugi asks, as normal as ever, not yet closing the door behind him.

“No.”

Takasugi nods and closes the door. Gintoki can't help but hold his breath, blood pumping wildly against his temples. 

“Did you get Sakamoto’s message?”

“Er, yes.”

“Right.”

Silence stretches uncomfortably, Takasugi standing near the door, eyebrows furrowed and gaze lowered, his arms crossed; and Gintoki sitting up straight like a rod in his desk chair. What should he say? What does one say in this situation? 

“I’m not sure I'll go though, I'm not feeling too well,” He declares, sticking to his lie from before, too desperate to put an end to the silence.

“Yeah. I’m not sure I'll go either.”

“Ah, that’s too bad.”

“Mh.”

Gintoki feels his insides tremble, itching to do something. He understands exactly what kind of conversation they’re having, and it makes him jittery, desperate to— to what, he doesn’t know. Or maybe he does, the phantom memory of Takasugi's lips on his, of his hand in his hair glitches in his mind and makes him shiver.

“It’d make Tatsuma sad, though. Imagine if he just ends up having solo time with Zura. We’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Hah, that’s true. At least you should go.”

“If you’re the only one missing from this grand reunion, you’ll never hear the end of it,” Gintoki offers with a small smile.

Takasugi's answering smile is a lot more measured, but still, it is there.

“Are you saying we don’t have a choice?”

“Alas!” 

“I see,” Takasugi chuckles quietly, his eyes lowered.

Gintoki watches his demeanour, unsure and almost shy, and feels his chest constrict. He wants to—... Fuck, it doesn’t matter what he wants. It doesn’t matter anymore. Following his stupid impulses led him here. It doesn’t fucking matter what he wants.

“Do as you wish though,” He adds gently, picking up his phone and pretending to distract himself with it. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t harass you if you don’t show up.”

“No need. I’ll show up.”

Gintoki glances at him. Takasugi's expression is neutral, bordering on sad, and he just nods once, mumbles ‘see you tomorrow’, and leaves. Gintoki stays unmoving for long seconds before a deep sigh escapes him.

He’s not sure of anything anymore. He really just wants to stop existing.