fic: gintama - creature comforts
Title: creature comforts
Fandom: Gintama
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Feedback: Is yours, but I'd like to borrow it, if you'd be so kind.
Notes: Canon shenanigans. A birthday gift so belated that's it's almost a Christmas gift, what even is this? For antimonial, for being insane in only the best ways.
Cross-posted at ginzura & gintama.
The morning begins as any other might. First, Gintoki spends close to fifteen minutes scratching his balls. He then ventures carefully outside of his bedroom, and receives a flying kick in the stomach from Kagura for not having breakfast prepared promptly enough (past experience has taught him no such time actually exists).
After falsely directing Kagura to the empty cupboards (oi, if you were looking for Dragon Balls you’d never see Shenron), to stall her until he can wake up enough to go near any kitchenware that has the potential to burn skin off, he puts away his futon and brushes his teeth. Somewhere between feeding Sadaharu (his foot) and feeding Sadaharu (his actual goddamn food), he remembers today is recycling day.
He then receives another flying kick, this time in the ass, for lying to a little girl, you should be ashamed of yourself you dirty old man, you’re the reason cellular phones KACHHHK when they take pictures now, ahuh. After screaming for fifteen minutes - that is, after calmly explaining why perverts on trains have nothing to do with breakfast, and how no one would ever KACHHHK at a stupid gorilla-girl anyway, he finishes gathering up the recycling, digging the last bottle out of his ribcage, where Kagura had left it lodged.
The trip down the steps to the trash can, as usual, is the most relaxing part of his entire day. However, the moment his foot hits the street, a horrible wail comes from inside the snack bar. It might be saying something about rent, and lousy reprobates, but that’s probably just how Eldritch gibberish sounds to poor, mortal ears.
He deposits the recycling into the proper bin, and flees back up the stairs before the screaming hag-monster can catch up with him and suck his soul out through his nose, or whatever demons from the abyss occupy their time with. In a brief interlude to the bedroom, he gets dressed, fingers clumsy on belts and pants, but quick on the kimono. Cautiously re-emerging, he manages to dodge the third kick, but gloats over it a second too long, and the uppercut in the sternum catches him hard enough to send him right into the kitchen (where he belongs, yup!). He scrounges up some breakfast for the two of them, with second-thirds, also known as fourths, to spare (thank Jump the gorilla still thinks egg over rice is the height of gourmet).
After putting the bowls in the sink, Kagura flops onto the couch to pat her stomach and complain about bloating, and how tough a lot girls have in life, ahuh. Gintoki slumps into his desk chair, turning the TV on while quietly nursing stomach, ass, and sternum bruises. He then tugs close the ‘incoming’ box of jobs on his desk, idly flipping through the long-standing ones, launching into a long-winded tirade about how the true measure of a Yorozuya was his commitment to doing all jobs that needed doing and ignores Kagura’s returning comments about the true measure of desperation. As he finishes making his point, he climbs up onto the desk, pulls down his pants, and takes a crap in the ‘incoming’ box. He then scratches his boots backwards along the wood several times, trips over his pulled-down pants, and falls off the desk.
Kagura stopped paying attention sometime during the third word of said tirade, and asks for the remote when Gin-chan is done going number 4 (which is like a number 2, only double the order).
However, it’s about this moment that Gintoki realizes something is not quite right.
-+-+-+-
“And then he went number 4 on the desk,” finishes Kagura, chewing a fresh packet of sukonbu with her mouth open.
“I see,” says Zura, completely straight-faced. “What is number 4? Is that a secret technique?”
“Huh, kind of - ”
The door of the bathroom slams open, and Gintoki emerges, toweling his hair off, dressed without his kimono.
“See, number 4’s have a splash zone,” begins the girl in explanation, and Gintoki picks up the nearest object, winging it hard at her head. She’s still looking at Zura when she bats the remote clean through the table.
“Zura Go Home,” he shouts, as if it were the other man’s full title, and it should damn well be, for all the times he’s damn well said it.
“It’s not Zura Go Home, it’s Katsura. And ah, I would,” the other samurai responds. “But I believe…” A deliberately meaningful pause, like they’re in some 2-bit manga or something, “…we are not so different, you and I.”
“I don’t care about what you shit on last week, yesterday, or today, get out of my house,” Gintoki grits, grabbing the other’s haori roughly, dragging him to his feet. For his part, Katsura hisses, loudly, and then rakes his nails across his face.
A long few moments pass in silence, as a line of cuts slowly bud on Gintoki’s cheek. Eventually, he asks, “…Does it look like Shanks’?”
“No,” Zura retorts, a bit miserably.
“That’s too bad,” the perm responds. He then feels the back of his neck, and finds every single hair standing on end. “Oh,” he hums, and then launches his entire body into Katsura, yowling.
-+-+-+-
“And then he went ‘HHYYOOOWWLLLRRRRRRRRRAAARRR’ and tackled Zura into the TV,” Kagura finishes, chewing a fresh packet of chips with her mouth open.
“It’s my day off,” says Shinpachi, completely straight-faced. “I don’t understand why you felt like you had to call me, Kagura-chan. Gin-san and Katsura-san fight all the time.”
The redhead nods, but then her face scrunches up in confusion as she asks, “That’s true, yup, but do they usually try to pee on eachother, too?”
Shinpachi looks across the room at the fully grown two men, sitting with their backs facing one another, arms crossed and scowling. Katsura’s kimono is ripped and disheveled, and his hair is sticking up in all directions. Gintoki’s nose is bleeding, and there are bite marks all along one forearm.
Shinpachi realizes it’s no longer his day off. “Close your mouth when you chew, Kagura-chan,” he sighs, rolling up his sleeves (he has to start somewhere).
-+-+-+-
They figure out the problem when Shinpachi makes lunch, and the sound of the can opener results in both men standing in the kitchen on either side of the boy, staring with such intensity that the megane gets the shakes.
“It seems the curse of the cat’s burial mound has had some lingering side-effects,” Zura pronounces. “I had suspected as much, nyaaa.”
“You weren’t doing that before we figured it out,” deadpans Gintoki. “Don’t start doing it now. Nobody’s fooled. You just sound creepy.”
Shinpachi starts, “Gin-san, I think - ”
“Did anyone say you could stop turning the handle?”
“Open it properly or I’ll open the backs of your calves.”
The boy’s shakes intensify, and Gintoki says, “Maa, sorry about that, Pattsuan. Catlike animal instincts are taking over. Cats are real bastards. Dogs are too, though. And gorillas. Don’t ever get pets, Pattsuan, not even to impress high school girls in the park. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
“Aa, I also apologise, Shinpachi-dono, nyaa. Purr, purr. I’m very cute, so please don’t be angry with me.”
“K-Katsura-san, that’s creepy when you’re actually human.”
“Open the can, not your mouth.”
“What is this, oi, rocket science? Is there anyone who can do jobs properly but me?”
“Gin-chan, I figured that out when you took a big poop in the inbox!” yells Kagura from the living room. Now that they know the problem, she’s become uninterested (we did a bodyswap episode already, ahuh, these writers are such hacks).
-+-+-+-
Around 1 PM, Gintoki starts clawing the furniture in anxiety. Zura joins him, after repeatedly trying to pet Sadaharu and repeatedly getting upset at his proximity to the dog. Sadaharu remains unimpressed with the events of the day, and seems to be relieved when Kagura takes him out for a long walk, at Shinpachi’s request. The boy goes downstairs to seek the advice of an adult that hasn’t, in the last 24-hours, threatened to pee in his laundry.
“I used to be a respectable man,” moans Gintoki, scratching at the thread in the cushion. “I used to be a dignified businessman.”
“No you didn’t,” replies Zura, fully serious, even as he digs his fingers into upholstery. “We’ve overcome worse than this, Gintoki.”
“Shut up,” groans the taller samurai. He watches the other for a few moments, and then knocks his head against the couch arm. “I’m jealous that you’re better at destroying my furniture than I am. I should be destroying you in retaliation, oi.”
“I understand how you feel. I arched my back and hissed at the Shinsengumi today.”
“You don’t sound that sorry about it.”
“Aa? I’m not. Why would I be?”
“That - nevermind, it’s not worth it. Whatever. At least you’ll land on your feet when they chase you off rooftops now, I guess. ”
“What is that supposed to mean? I always land on my feet!”
“Haa? Are you sure you don’t land on your head? Because that’s what it seems like.”
“Shut up. Do you want to get bitten to death?”
“You shut up! And don’t steal lines from other manga series so blatantly, we’ll get sued! Why don’t you go lick your shit-crusted asshole!”
“Why don’t you go chase that irritating ladybug in the kitchen!”
“I tried, and for your information, it’s too fast to catch, you insufferable bastard!”
“I also found it too fast to catch, you loud-mouthed fool!”
“-Aa?”
“…Aa.”
“Oh.”
“Mm. It has been a strange day,” says Zura calmly, followed by a huge rrrrrip. Without missing a beat, he asks, “Do you want to play with this fluff I just pulled out?”
“Yes,” whines Gintoki. “God damnit, yes.”
-+-+-+-
Downstairs, Shinpachi confesses something to Otose. “We’ve never had cats,” he admits, “because my sister doesn’t get along with them. …She thinks they’re ugly and annoying, and the way they lick themselves grosses her out.”
“Racist,” spits Catherine viciously, flicking ash. “What kind of girl doesn’t like cats, anyway, hohhh? She’s really just a femme-gorilla, isn’t she?”
Shinpachi goes on haltingly. “A-anyway, Otose-san, I don’t really know what to do. They aren’t going to be like that forever, are they?”
“Probably not,” the older woman drawls. “These things usually have a habit of working themselves out. I don’t see why it should be a big fuss.”
“You don’t see why two grown men acting like cats because they were once cursed to be cats for going to the bathroom on a cat burial mound should be a big fuss,” responds Shinpachi, voice draining of inflection. “You think that’s the kind of thing that usually works itself out.”
“Otose-san, you should have that freeloader fixed while he’s like this. Maybe he’ll start being a better housecat and pay his rent on time, hu hu!”
“Nobody’s fixing anyone!” squawks the teenager. “All I want to know is what to do until they’re normal again! They’re destroying everything and they keep fighting!”
The oldest woman shrugs, saying again, “It’ll work itself out, Shinpachi. Don’t worry so much.” The youth begins to wonder at the collection of adults in life, when she adds, “Besides, the midday sun’s coming up.”
“Oh, right." A pause, and the boy blinks behind his glasses. He then goes to clarify. "I’m sorry, what?”
-+-+-+-
What Shinpachi sees when he returns to the Yorozuya makes him blush bright red, back up, and backtrack downstairs very quickly.
“See?” drawls the landlady, without looking up from her crossword. “I told you it would work itself out.”
“Haha, right,” laughs Shinpachi nervously.
-+-+-+-
Gintoki wakes up when the door slides open, lifting his head out of Zura’s armpit. “Whussit?” he mumbles. He can’t seem to think straight, as if he’s been sapped of all his energy, like that time on TV whats-his-name was exposed to whats-it-called and his powers stopped doing whatever-it-was. That guy, he feels just like him, probably.
“Shurrp,” mutters Zura, curling up into his side, tugging him back down. His hair is soft and comfy, and it feels nice to nuzzle his face against it. The sun coming in the window feels nice, too. Gintoki wants to lie here on the floor with Zura forever, or at least until someone opens another can. That would just be so nice.
The ear-piercing scream that suddenly splits the air is not nice.
“THEY’RE DEAD! THEY’RE DEEEEEEEAD! SHINPACHIIIIIII! HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN! THEY WERE SO YOUNG! THEY HAD SO MUCH AHEAD OF THEM!”
Kagura falls to her knees, crying. “GIN-CHAN WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE BREAKFAST FOR ME TOMORROW! WHO’S GOING TO MAKE MY BREAKFAST TOMORROW, SHINPACHIIIII?”
In fact, it’s horrible on a lot of levels.
-+-+-+-
It’s been a long, long day, and to be honest, Gintoki is relieved when Shinpachi leaves for home, taking Kagura and Sadaharu in tow (the first exiled for trying to groom them and almost snapping Gintoki’s neck, the second for making Katsura burst into frustrated tears). He’d be ecstatic if the stupid wig next to him had also found someplace else to be, but he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, not even after Gintoki deploys the most subtle of coy hints.
“Oi, why are you still here, get the hell out,” he hints, coyly and subtly.
“I don’t want to,” responds Zura, sounding about as drained as Gintoki feels. His head falls back onto the couch. “My catlike obstinacy has led me to this decision. I would actually like to go home, but since I know you would like me to, I physically cannot fight the urge to disobey.”
Gintoki would argue, but he knows all too well that it’s true. He’s only telling Zura to leave because he thinks Zura wants to stay, after all (he chooses to ignore the question of whether or not this is actually a lingering cat-curse effect). He says instead, “Why would anyone ever get a cat?”
The rebel shrugs. “They’re cute. They’re soft and have small paws and noses, and when they’re hungry, they mewl, and it’s very endearing.”
“So what? It’s like having a baby because it’s cute. One day, no matter how cute it is, it’s gonna grow up into a teenager that doesn’t respect you and intentionally aims to spite you. And it’ll probably throw up on the rug, too. …Are you worried about licking yourself once you’re alone?”
“…A little.”
“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”
Silence, almost a stranger to the Yorozuya, reigns briefly. It’s not unwelcome, though, and Gintoki finds himself feeling calm for the first time since he took a dump on his inbox (abrupt sunbeam-coma notwithstanding). Even after all these years, with all that they’ve been through, they’ve been through most of it together - hell, they went through that stupid cat-curse shit together, didn’t they? It made sense that they should go through the cat-curse hangover together, too. It’s sort of comforting, in a fucked-up, stupid way that involves wigheads providing something other than headaches.
“You’re purring,” Zura tells him, suddenly.
“Shut up,” he responds gruffly. “That was my stomach. I’m just hungry.”
“Do you want to order sushi?”
Before he knows what he’s doing, or why he’s doing it, he’s rubbing his face against Zura’s cheek, hugging him tightly. Of course he wants sushi. Of course he does. He wants sushi almost as much as he wants to rub his face against his m - against this stupid asshole, who just happens to know exactly what he wants right now, probably by some freak coincidence.
“Don’t say anything,” he tries, but of course Zura isn’t listening, because the rebel says at practically the same time, “Are you marking me?”
“What? Maybe. No. I don’t know. Shut up. Would you rather I pissed on you?”
“This is - ah, it’s strange, but it’s not bad.” The smaller man hesitates, but leans his face into the pressing. “…Not as bad as being peed on. Should I do it to you too?”
“What? You can’t pee on me!”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant - you know.” He returns the rubbing, pale skin of his cheek soft against Gintoki’s jaw. His neck is soft, too, but the muscles under it are taut and strong. And the smaller man still smells good, like he’s just showered, even though the Yorozuya knows for a fact he’s spent the last few hours of his day running from the police, sleeping on dusty floors, and threatening teenagers.
The man finds himself, stupidly, flustering. “Ah. Right. Fine. Okay. As long as nobody’s going to pee on anybody.”
After a few moments, Gintoki adds, a bit smugly, “You’re purring.”
“No I’m not,” the rebel responds, flushing deeply. “I was humming. You’re the one that’s purring.”
“Purring? I’m just hungry, I said, oi. Why are you humming like an idiot instead of ordering my sushi, aa?”
“Your sushi? Does that mean you’re paying?”
“Well, since I don’t think they accept big, hacked-up hairballs as a form of payment, you probably won’t be able to cover it…”
“Don’t joke about that, you disgusting bastard!”
-+-+-+-
Outside of Snack Bar Otose, the patroness leans next to the window, smoke curling from her cigarette. She can hear bickering above her, insults being traded like the sharpening of claws. It’s funny when strays find themselves together, really - and she would know, having looked after so many by now.
Sure, there’s always a lot of fur flying and yowling noise, but in the end, that's not what it's about. Strays don’t come to trust and love easily, after all; it’s hard for them to come by families who’ll tolerate their bad manners. Of course, only another stray would understand that hissing and spitting is just what strays do. At the end of the day, after the scratches have been traded, even strays just like to settle down together in their own brand of ragtag comfort and familiarity.
In those kinds of cases, Otose has found - without a lot of fuss, things usually have a habit of working themselves out.
Fandom: Gintama
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Feedback: Is yours, but I'd like to borrow it, if you'd be so kind.
Notes: Canon shenanigans. A birthday gift so belated that's it's almost a Christmas gift, what even is this? For antimonial, for being insane in only the best ways.
Cross-posted at ginzura & gintama.
The morning begins as any other might. First, Gintoki spends close to fifteen minutes scratching his balls. He then ventures carefully outside of his bedroom, and receives a flying kick in the stomach from Kagura for not having breakfast prepared promptly enough (past experience has taught him no such time actually exists).
After falsely directing Kagura to the empty cupboards (oi, if you were looking for Dragon Balls you’d never see Shenron), to stall her until he can wake up enough to go near any kitchenware that has the potential to burn skin off, he puts away his futon and brushes his teeth. Somewhere between feeding Sadaharu (his foot) and feeding Sadaharu (his actual goddamn food), he remembers today is recycling day.
He then receives another flying kick, this time in the ass, for lying to a little girl, you should be ashamed of yourself you dirty old man, you’re the reason cellular phones KACHHHK when they take pictures now, ahuh. After screaming for fifteen minutes - that is, after calmly explaining why perverts on trains have nothing to do with breakfast, and how no one would ever KACHHHK at a stupid gorilla-girl anyway, he finishes gathering up the recycling, digging the last bottle out of his ribcage, where Kagura had left it lodged.
The trip down the steps to the trash can, as usual, is the most relaxing part of his entire day. However, the moment his foot hits the street, a horrible wail comes from inside the snack bar. It might be saying something about rent, and lousy reprobates, but that’s probably just how Eldritch gibberish sounds to poor, mortal ears.
He deposits the recycling into the proper bin, and flees back up the stairs before the screaming hag-monster can catch up with him and suck his soul out through his nose, or whatever demons from the abyss occupy their time with. In a brief interlude to the bedroom, he gets dressed, fingers clumsy on belts and pants, but quick on the kimono. Cautiously re-emerging, he manages to dodge the third kick, but gloats over it a second too long, and the uppercut in the sternum catches him hard enough to send him right into the kitchen (where he belongs, yup!). He scrounges up some breakfast for the two of them, with second-thirds, also known as fourths, to spare (thank Jump the gorilla still thinks egg over rice is the height of gourmet).
After putting the bowls in the sink, Kagura flops onto the couch to pat her stomach and complain about bloating, and how tough a lot girls have in life, ahuh. Gintoki slumps into his desk chair, turning the TV on while quietly nursing stomach, ass, and sternum bruises. He then tugs close the ‘incoming’ box of jobs on his desk, idly flipping through the long-standing ones, launching into a long-winded tirade about how the true measure of a Yorozuya was his commitment to doing all jobs that needed doing and ignores Kagura’s returning comments about the true measure of desperation. As he finishes making his point, he climbs up onto the desk, pulls down his pants, and takes a crap in the ‘incoming’ box. He then scratches his boots backwards along the wood several times, trips over his pulled-down pants, and falls off the desk.
Kagura stopped paying attention sometime during the third word of said tirade, and asks for the remote when Gin-chan is done going number 4 (which is like a number 2, only double the order).
However, it’s about this moment that Gintoki realizes something is not quite right.
-+-+-+-
“And then he went number 4 on the desk,” finishes Kagura, chewing a fresh packet of sukonbu with her mouth open.
“I see,” says Zura, completely straight-faced. “What is number 4? Is that a secret technique?”
“Huh, kind of - ”
The door of the bathroom slams open, and Gintoki emerges, toweling his hair off, dressed without his kimono.
“See, number 4’s have a splash zone,” begins the girl in explanation, and Gintoki picks up the nearest object, winging it hard at her head. She’s still looking at Zura when she bats the remote clean through the table.
“Zura Go Home,” he shouts, as if it were the other man’s full title, and it should damn well be, for all the times he’s damn well said it.
“It’s not Zura Go Home, it’s Katsura. And ah, I would,” the other samurai responds. “But I believe…” A deliberately meaningful pause, like they’re in some 2-bit manga or something, “…we are not so different, you and I.”
“I don’t care about what you shit on last week, yesterday, or today, get out of my house,” Gintoki grits, grabbing the other’s haori roughly, dragging him to his feet. For his part, Katsura hisses, loudly, and then rakes his nails across his face.
A long few moments pass in silence, as a line of cuts slowly bud on Gintoki’s cheek. Eventually, he asks, “…Does it look like Shanks’?”
“No,” Zura retorts, a bit miserably.
“That’s too bad,” the perm responds. He then feels the back of his neck, and finds every single hair standing on end. “Oh,” he hums, and then launches his entire body into Katsura, yowling.
-+-+-+-
“And then he went ‘HHYYOOOWWLLLRRRRRRRRRAAARRR’ and tackled Zura into the TV,” Kagura finishes, chewing a fresh packet of chips with her mouth open.
“It’s my day off,” says Shinpachi, completely straight-faced. “I don’t understand why you felt like you had to call me, Kagura-chan. Gin-san and Katsura-san fight all the time.”
The redhead nods, but then her face scrunches up in confusion as she asks, “That’s true, yup, but do they usually try to pee on eachother, too?”
Shinpachi looks across the room at the fully grown two men, sitting with their backs facing one another, arms crossed and scowling. Katsura’s kimono is ripped and disheveled, and his hair is sticking up in all directions. Gintoki’s nose is bleeding, and there are bite marks all along one forearm.
Shinpachi realizes it’s no longer his day off. “Close your mouth when you chew, Kagura-chan,” he sighs, rolling up his sleeves (he has to start somewhere).
-+-+-+-
They figure out the problem when Shinpachi makes lunch, and the sound of the can opener results in both men standing in the kitchen on either side of the boy, staring with such intensity that the megane gets the shakes.
“It seems the curse of the cat’s burial mound has had some lingering side-effects,” Zura pronounces. “I had suspected as much, nyaaa.”
“You weren’t doing that before we figured it out,” deadpans Gintoki. “Don’t start doing it now. Nobody’s fooled. You just sound creepy.”
Shinpachi starts, “Gin-san, I think - ”
“Did anyone say you could stop turning the handle?”
“Open it properly or I’ll open the backs of your calves.”
The boy’s shakes intensify, and Gintoki says, “Maa, sorry about that, Pattsuan. Catlike animal instincts are taking over. Cats are real bastards. Dogs are too, though. And gorillas. Don’t ever get pets, Pattsuan, not even to impress high school girls in the park. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
“Aa, I also apologise, Shinpachi-dono, nyaa. Purr, purr. I’m very cute, so please don’t be angry with me.”
“K-Katsura-san, that’s creepy when you’re actually human.”
“Open the can, not your mouth.”
“What is this, oi, rocket science? Is there anyone who can do jobs properly but me?”
“Gin-chan, I figured that out when you took a big poop in the inbox!” yells Kagura from the living room. Now that they know the problem, she’s become uninterested (we did a bodyswap episode already, ahuh, these writers are such hacks).
-+-+-+-
Around 1 PM, Gintoki starts clawing the furniture in anxiety. Zura joins him, after repeatedly trying to pet Sadaharu and repeatedly getting upset at his proximity to the dog. Sadaharu remains unimpressed with the events of the day, and seems to be relieved when Kagura takes him out for a long walk, at Shinpachi’s request. The boy goes downstairs to seek the advice of an adult that hasn’t, in the last 24-hours, threatened to pee in his laundry.
“I used to be a respectable man,” moans Gintoki, scratching at the thread in the cushion. “I used to be a dignified businessman.”
“No you didn’t,” replies Zura, fully serious, even as he digs his fingers into upholstery. “We’ve overcome worse than this, Gintoki.”
“Shut up,” groans the taller samurai. He watches the other for a few moments, and then knocks his head against the couch arm. “I’m jealous that you’re better at destroying my furniture than I am. I should be destroying you in retaliation, oi.”
“I understand how you feel. I arched my back and hissed at the Shinsengumi today.”
“You don’t sound that sorry about it.”
“Aa? I’m not. Why would I be?”
“That - nevermind, it’s not worth it. Whatever. At least you’ll land on your feet when they chase you off rooftops now, I guess. ”
“What is that supposed to mean? I always land on my feet!”
“Haa? Are you sure you don’t land on your head? Because that’s what it seems like.”
“Shut up. Do you want to get bitten to death?”
“You shut up! And don’t steal lines from other manga series so blatantly, we’ll get sued! Why don’t you go lick your shit-crusted asshole!”
“Why don’t you go chase that irritating ladybug in the kitchen!”
“I tried, and for your information, it’s too fast to catch, you insufferable bastard!”
“I also found it too fast to catch, you loud-mouthed fool!”
“-Aa?”
“…Aa.”
“Oh.”
“Mm. It has been a strange day,” says Zura calmly, followed by a huge rrrrrip. Without missing a beat, he asks, “Do you want to play with this fluff I just pulled out?”
“Yes,” whines Gintoki. “God damnit, yes.”
-+-+-+-
Downstairs, Shinpachi confesses something to Otose. “We’ve never had cats,” he admits, “because my sister doesn’t get along with them. …She thinks they’re ugly and annoying, and the way they lick themselves grosses her out.”
“Racist,” spits Catherine viciously, flicking ash. “What kind of girl doesn’t like cats, anyway, hohhh? She’s really just a femme-gorilla, isn’t she?”
Shinpachi goes on haltingly. “A-anyway, Otose-san, I don’t really know what to do. They aren’t going to be like that forever, are they?”
“Probably not,” the older woman drawls. “These things usually have a habit of working themselves out. I don’t see why it should be a big fuss.”
“You don’t see why two grown men acting like cats because they were once cursed to be cats for going to the bathroom on a cat burial mound should be a big fuss,” responds Shinpachi, voice draining of inflection. “You think that’s the kind of thing that usually works itself out.”
“Otose-san, you should have that freeloader fixed while he’s like this. Maybe he’ll start being a better housecat and pay his rent on time, hu hu!”
“Nobody’s fixing anyone!” squawks the teenager. “All I want to know is what to do until they’re normal again! They’re destroying everything and they keep fighting!”
The oldest woman shrugs, saying again, “It’ll work itself out, Shinpachi. Don’t worry so much.” The youth begins to wonder at the collection of adults in life, when she adds, “Besides, the midday sun’s coming up.”
“Oh, right." A pause, and the boy blinks behind his glasses. He then goes to clarify. "I’m sorry, what?”
-+-+-+-
What Shinpachi sees when he returns to the Yorozuya makes him blush bright red, back up, and backtrack downstairs very quickly.
“See?” drawls the landlady, without looking up from her crossword. “I told you it would work itself out.”
“Haha, right,” laughs Shinpachi nervously.
-+-+-+-
Gintoki wakes up when the door slides open, lifting his head out of Zura’s armpit. “Whussit?” he mumbles. He can’t seem to think straight, as if he’s been sapped of all his energy, like that time on TV whats-his-name was exposed to whats-it-called and his powers stopped doing whatever-it-was. That guy, he feels just like him, probably.
“Shurrp,” mutters Zura, curling up into his side, tugging him back down. His hair is soft and comfy, and it feels nice to nuzzle his face against it. The sun coming in the window feels nice, too. Gintoki wants to lie here on the floor with Zura forever, or at least until someone opens another can. That would just be so nice.
The ear-piercing scream that suddenly splits the air is not nice.
“THEY’RE DEAD! THEY’RE DEEEEEEEAD! SHINPACHIIIIIII! HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN! THEY WERE SO YOUNG! THEY HAD SO MUCH AHEAD OF THEM!”
Kagura falls to her knees, crying. “GIN-CHAN WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE BREAKFAST FOR ME TOMORROW! WHO’S GOING TO MAKE MY BREAKFAST TOMORROW, SHINPACHIIIII?”
In fact, it’s horrible on a lot of levels.
-+-+-+-
It’s been a long, long day, and to be honest, Gintoki is relieved when Shinpachi leaves for home, taking Kagura and Sadaharu in tow (the first exiled for trying to groom them and almost snapping Gintoki’s neck, the second for making Katsura burst into frustrated tears). He’d be ecstatic if the stupid wig next to him had also found someplace else to be, but he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, not even after Gintoki deploys the most subtle of coy hints.
“Oi, why are you still here, get the hell out,” he hints, coyly and subtly.
“I don’t want to,” responds Zura, sounding about as drained as Gintoki feels. His head falls back onto the couch. “My catlike obstinacy has led me to this decision. I would actually like to go home, but since I know you would like me to, I physically cannot fight the urge to disobey.”
Gintoki would argue, but he knows all too well that it’s true. He’s only telling Zura to leave because he thinks Zura wants to stay, after all (he chooses to ignore the question of whether or not this is actually a lingering cat-curse effect). He says instead, “Why would anyone ever get a cat?”
The rebel shrugs. “They’re cute. They’re soft and have small paws and noses, and when they’re hungry, they mewl, and it’s very endearing.”
“So what? It’s like having a baby because it’s cute. One day, no matter how cute it is, it’s gonna grow up into a teenager that doesn’t respect you and intentionally aims to spite you. And it’ll probably throw up on the rug, too. …Are you worried about licking yourself once you’re alone?”
“…A little.”
“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”
Silence, almost a stranger to the Yorozuya, reigns briefly. It’s not unwelcome, though, and Gintoki finds himself feeling calm for the first time since he took a dump on his inbox (abrupt sunbeam-coma notwithstanding). Even after all these years, with all that they’ve been through, they’ve been through most of it together - hell, they went through that stupid cat-curse shit together, didn’t they? It made sense that they should go through the cat-curse hangover together, too. It’s sort of comforting, in a fucked-up, stupid way that involves wigheads providing something other than headaches.
“You’re purring,” Zura tells him, suddenly.
“Shut up,” he responds gruffly. “That was my stomach. I’m just hungry.”
“Do you want to order sushi?”
Before he knows what he’s doing, or why he’s doing it, he’s rubbing his face against Zura’s cheek, hugging him tightly. Of course he wants sushi. Of course he does. He wants sushi almost as much as he wants to rub his face against his m - against this stupid asshole, who just happens to know exactly what he wants right now, probably by some freak coincidence.
“Don’t say anything,” he tries, but of course Zura isn’t listening, because the rebel says at practically the same time, “Are you marking me?”
“What? Maybe. No. I don’t know. Shut up. Would you rather I pissed on you?”
“This is - ah, it’s strange, but it’s not bad.” The smaller man hesitates, but leans his face into the pressing. “…Not as bad as being peed on. Should I do it to you too?”
“What? You can’t pee on me!”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant - you know.” He returns the rubbing, pale skin of his cheek soft against Gintoki’s jaw. His neck is soft, too, but the muscles under it are taut and strong. And the smaller man still smells good, like he’s just showered, even though the Yorozuya knows for a fact he’s spent the last few hours of his day running from the police, sleeping on dusty floors, and threatening teenagers.
The man finds himself, stupidly, flustering. “Ah. Right. Fine. Okay. As long as nobody’s going to pee on anybody.”
After a few moments, Gintoki adds, a bit smugly, “You’re purring.”
“No I’m not,” the rebel responds, flushing deeply. “I was humming. You’re the one that’s purring.”
“Purring? I’m just hungry, I said, oi. Why are you humming like an idiot instead of ordering my sushi, aa?”
“Your sushi? Does that mean you’re paying?”
“Well, since I don’t think they accept big, hacked-up hairballs as a form of payment, you probably won’t be able to cover it…”
“Don’t joke about that, you disgusting bastard!”
-+-+-+-
Outside of Snack Bar Otose, the patroness leans next to the window, smoke curling from her cigarette. She can hear bickering above her, insults being traded like the sharpening of claws. It’s funny when strays find themselves together, really - and she would know, having looked after so many by now.
Sure, there’s always a lot of fur flying and yowling noise, but in the end, that's not what it's about. Strays don’t come to trust and love easily, after all; it’s hard for them to come by families who’ll tolerate their bad manners. Of course, only another stray would understand that hissing and spitting is just what strays do. At the end of the day, after the scratches have been traded, even strays just like to settle down together in their own brand of ragtag comfort and familiarity.
In those kinds of cases, Otose has found - without a lot of fuss, things usually have a habit of working themselves out.