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Gintoki wakes up. Well not exactly, because to wake up you have to be sleeping but he was never asleep in the first place. Instead he had been lying down in the dark, mind drifting away from his body, stuck in a limbo of not being awake nor asleep. He has not been sleeping well these days, not that it's something new but the chronic sleep deprivation is stacking higher and higher, threatening to topple over at the blink of an eye. But all he can do is blink, unable to rest his eyes fully. Sleep is never uneventful and he doesn't deserve a good night's sleep he doesn't want to sleep. And his usual drinking sprees to dull his thoughts aren't helping, the massive hangovers adding insult to injury.
He groans, pressing the heels of his palms deep into his eyes. He has a fucking headache, hammering away like a persistent woodpecker trying to build a build a nest. He presses a pillow over his face, hoping to smother the bird. He didn't ask for an in-built alarm clock that won't even shut up when snoozed!! Of course that does nothing. Every movement, every blink, every heartbeat sets his head throbbing.
He tosses and turns, the covers entangling with his windmilling limbs. Grumbling in frustration, his voice grates on his ears and there's no escape from the sensation; he can't not moan and writhe in pain and how does one even muffle vibrations coming from their own throat? He twists aching fingers into his perm and pulls harshly. Fight pain with pain. His scalp is going to rip off into his hand but still this headache just won’t let up. It's like he's stuck in a stupid Youtube experiment, ‘How many rubber bands to explode a watermelon!?’, except his head is the fucking watermelon. Each newly added band grips him in a vice, the mounting pressure ready to crush through the rind of his skull at a moment's notice and splatter red flesh over the ceiling for the kids to find.
The kids. They can't see him like this. He has to be strong for them.
Oh shit. They finally have a job request after so long. He really doesn't want to move a single muscle today, but the dual attack of Shinpachi's shrill scolding and Kagura's heavy hits are formidable on normal days, let alone when he's dead on his feet.
He wants to pop off his head and yell at the damn woodpecker to go find a real tree, dammit!! His head is hollowed out enough, knock it off!! If it still doesn't fly away then he'd just have to kill it with his bare hands and roast it over the fire boiling his brain. It'd turn so nice and juicy that the French would be jealous how they never thought of it, and he'd eat it up in one smug bite right in front of them.
He sits up, no matter how much he doesn't want to. For the kids. The sudden change in position sends nausea bubbling in his stomach and agony pushing out his eyeballs from behind. His green jinbei is soaked in sweat. His head is fuzzy with cotton and the world is too bright, slivered through damp eyelashes.
Sadaharu greets him like usual, gnawing on his head and blood trickling down his forehead. But today, the pressure of teeth grinding into his cranium feels heavenly, the slight upward stretch on his neck making him hang limp in relief. Sadaharu drags him out of the bedroom and drops him in the living room, releasing him from his maw and he almost cries out when the receding tide of ache pummels back into him like a battering log.
Shinpachi and Kagura barge into the Yorozuya office and find Gintoki half hanging off the sofa, melting down to the floor. They've come from the Shimura home already dressed for a long day under the sun. He looks at them pleadingly, hoping they'd put him out of his misery but Shinpachi just had to open his mouth and screech his token straight man line.
“GIN-SAN!! What are you wasting time for? Why aren't you ready yet?! The customer had asked us to be onsite by 10 am and it's 12 pm already!! We won't get paid at this rate!!”
“Ginchan!! Why are your eyebags so huge? They're touching your mouth, aru.”
“OIIIII Don’t underestimate eyebags!! They're super trendy these days!! Why lug around a bag when your eyebags can fit everything and are this fashionable?!”
“Ginchan… Did- Did you sleep okay?”
“The house was too empty Don't question the protagonist!! I'm just training to become Edo's next Top Model. The whole world needs to see my glam!!”
Weeding is going to be such a bitch.
“ACHOO!!”
Fuck weeding, fuck pollen, fuck the fucking flowers who get horny and make it a public problem. His whole face feels itchy, his nose is clogged shut and he can't see out of his watery eyes. The constant sneezing is driving him up the wall. He wants to bash his head in with his sword, or even better, detach it from his body. He wants to unhinge his upper jaw and yank it upwards, rip open his face and shove a back scratcher into the deepest recesses of his nose and gouge out his fucking sinuses. Please, anything to reach inside and just scratch, he’ll claw off his skin at this rate, he can't take it anymore OH MY GOD THIS FUCKING ITCH-
He finds himself staring blankly at the Shinsengumi gate, not knowing how he made it here. He drags his uncooperative body through the hidden gap in the perimeter, stumbling into the air-conditioned room that's become quite familiar. Hijikata was seated at his table, engrossed in some reports as he worked his ass off. He startles at the sound of his door opening and looks up to see Gintoki lurch in.
“What the- Yorozuya!! I told you already, civilians are not allowed on the premises.”
“Yeah yeah, whatever you say Oogushi-kun.”
Gintoki flips a hand in dismissal and moves closer, erratic steps pattering on the tatami. He flops down next to Hijikata who tsks in annoyance and drags a puff from his cigarette. Gintoki feels the smoke tickling his nose and dread fills him up, no no nO NO NOT AGAIN-
“Ah- Aaah- AAA-”
“What?”
“HijikacHOO!! You- ACHOO!!”
“Huh?”
“Cig- ACHOO!!”
Hijikata hurriedly puts out the cigarette on the ashtray.
“ACHOO!!”
“ACHOOOO!!”
“ACHOOOOOOO!!”
“Ugh… ”
Gintoki lets out a groan and wipes his nose on his sleeve, sniffling sadly. He’s tired of the incessant itching and a mere brush of wind triggering a sneezing fit. He's so done.
“Oi, don't be disgusting, use a tissue. And you still can't just barge in-”, Hijikata is cut off as he feels a weight rest in his lap. Gintoki couldn't keep himself upright anymore.
“Yorozuya?”
“Mmmgh…”, Gintoki grunts and turns around, shifting to get comfortable on Hijikata’s thigh, nose poking into the crease of his hip.
Hijikata studies his face and sees half-lidded red-rimmed eyes, the skin around them damp and irritated, deep purple eyebags etched into the pale face. His nose is rubbed raw, skin peeling slightly and light scratch marks littered from his philtrum to the corner of his eyes. He notices the groggy brow, the mouth panting through swollen lips, the messier-than-usual hair, the huge dried snot stain on his sleeve, the worn down look that disappears as his eyes finally close shut.
“Toushirou…” Gintoki breathes. He sounds so weary.
Toushirou's heart breaks for this man crumbling in his lap. Resting a hand on his jaw, he asks him softly, “Gintoki? What's wrong?”
A beat of silence… and then, Gintoki smushes his face harder into his thigh, muffling his sigh, “Headache...”
It must be really bad if he's admitting it so easily. Toshirou tucks a few flyaway curls behind his ear. He glides a gentle thumb under his eye and catches a stray drop, soon replaced by another and another. He feels his pants dampen.
“S’pid all’gies…”
Toshirou just hums in response, carding a loving hand through silver-blue hair and brushing it away from his face. He leaves a tender kiss, tasting salt on the soft cheek. Gently wiping his face with a soft tissue, he gazes in wonder because how is he still so pretty. Gintoki hangs onto his forearm and curls closer, hugging his waist and knees brushing against Toshirou's hip. He presses his face hard into his abdomen and grinds his forehead back and forth, neck straining with the motion. Gintoki lets out a distressed whine, “... Hurts.”
Toshirou rubs his broad back soothingly, and nudges him to roll over. Gintoki lies flat on his back with a groan, one hand clutching his head in a death grip and the other curling protectively against his own chest. Toshirou buries both hands in the perm, skimming the scalp in long strokes. He presses a bit more with each pass, fingers digging in a bit. Gintoki sighs in appreciation, voice cracking as particularly tender spots are rubbed. Toshirou takes care to be extra gentle there and frustration saps away from his body, leaving him relaxed.
With a drooping hand, Gintoki snags one of the warm palms combing through his hair, and draws it close to his face. Toushirou feels the hot breath puffing over his fingertips, and gasps when Gintoki kisses his palm reverently and places it over his aching brow. Toushirou shifts his palm lower to cover his eyes, not wanting Gintoki to see how affected he is. He doesn't like to see Gintoki in pain. Unbeknownst to him, the red eyes peeking through fingers had already witnessed Toushirou’s serene expression splintering into a bittersweet endearment. He doesn't like to see Toushirou pained either.
Taking a moment to gather himself, Toushirou presses his eyes with light caresses. He drags two fingers upwards from the bridge of his nose, arching along the ridge of his eyebrows and circling his temples firmly. Gintoki keens in relief, strong fingers working out the ache gathered at the root of his nose. The lines on Gintoki's face finally smoothen out as the coiled up tension fully leaves his body, taut muscles going lax.
Gintoki feels drowsy with relief. It doesn't hurt. The massage did its job but the fact that it's Toushirou’s deft hands that bring him ease with so much care, warms him up from the inside. He feels safe. Maybe, it's okay to rest here. Letting the steady comfort pull him under, Gintoki allows himself to simply sleep.
Toshirou watches in satisfaction as Gintoki's breaths slow down and even out, floating off into a deep slumber with a tranquil smile, peaceful at last under his ministrations. Toshirou's lap grows heavier, as does his heart. He looks so young when he sleeps, just a little boy. He allows himself just this once to stare lovingly at Gintoki, tracing the handsome features in adoration and etching his little snores deep into his memory. Something about Gintoki, trusting and vulnerable in his lap, has him feeling a fierce protectiveness. He vows to stay by his side and shield the man he loves. Toshirou slowly takes off his jacket, taking care not to jostle Gintoki and drapes it over his shoulders. He hopes it would ward off bad dreams. Please, let him rest, just one night.
He presses a feather light kiss on Gintoki’s forehead, lest he wakes up.
“Sleep well, dear.”