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“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Kagura yells, and that’s the only warning before something falls hard onto Gintoki’s peacefully sleeping face. He sputters and sits up on the futon, rubbing his forehead, which is already starting to bruise. He looks down at the weapon—a heart-shaped tin of chocolates.
Not exactly how he wanted to wake up this fine spring morning, but Gintoki blinks away the last of his drowsiness and looks around the room. The space beside him on the futon is empty, and there is a man sitting in front of the mirror, already dressed in uniform, combing through his black hair.
Toshiro.
They’d begun living together a few years ago, and things have slowly fallen into a comfortable routine—Toshiro gets up at the crack of dawn, gets dressed for work, aggressively grabs Gintoki by the collar of his yukata to lift him off his back and kiss his forehead, unceremoniously shoves him back down on the futon, and leaves the house.
That was probably why Kagura thought it was okay to drop an entire box of chocolates on Gintoki’s face instead of saying good morning like a normal person. Completely unconcerned about Gintoki’s pain, Kagura walks over to gently pass Toshiro his own box of chocolates. He sets his comb down to graciously accept her gift with both hands.
“You’re lucky you woke up early,” Kagura deadpans. He smiles wryly at her, remembering how naïve he’d been when he had first moved in, thinking he’d be able to finally get away from Sogo’s antics and let his guard down after work. Fat hope.
“Happy Valentine’s Day to you too, kid.”
“Yeah, can’t get more romantic than this,” Gintoki groans, already popping one of the chocolates into his mouth.
“You’re gonna get cavities,” Toshiro sighs, putting on his blazer. Gintoki shrugs, popping another one into his mouth.
“She just dropped a box on my face, let me have this,” he mumbles with a full mouth. Then, he frowns. “Hey Kagura, where’d you get the money to buy this?”
“You gave me 2,000 yen yesterday.”
Gintoki throws a scrunched-up foil wrapper at her head.
“That was for rice, you idiot. Now we have to go out for lunch.”
Kagura catches it easily in her fist. “You didn’t even get me Valentine’s Day chocolates!” She angrily flings the foil back at Gintoki. It feels like a bullet to the head. He yelps in pain and falls back over on the futon. Kagura crosses her arms defiantly.
“I already told Shinpachi to join us for lunch. We want ramen.”
Toshiro passes Kagura another 2,000-yen bill. “Get the rice this time,” he says. She gingerly takes the money from him, swaying on the spot, waiting. Toshiro sighs and pulls out another 1,000-yen note. “Get something small for Shinpachi too.”
Kagura’s eyes light up as she reaches for the bill. “You’re the best, Toshi!” she squeals, hugging him and dashing out the door.
Gintoki gets up from his futon to hug Toshiro from behind, burying his face in the crook of his neck and inhaling the scent of soap and fresh laundry.
“What are we doing tonight?” Gintoki mumbles, intertwining his fingers with Toshiro’s.
“Dinner at the bar, right?” Toshiro replies with a raised brow. “Same as always.”
Gintoki shakes his head, unsatisfied.
“I wanna do something different this year,” he says, turning Toshiro around by the shoulders to face him. He heads to the wardrobe to pull out a brown paper bag.
“Quick, choose one before Kagura comes back,” Gintoki whispers, warily eyeing his surroundings before sliding the bag towards Toshiro. When he’s certain the coast is clear, he continues in a proud voice, eyes closed, a finger in the air. “I believe I’ve provided you with a diverse selection. Though all of them are good choices, I have to admit that I am partial to the nurse outfit—”
He’s interrupted by a thong thrown in his face.
“Are you out of your mind?” Toshiro hisses, dumping the contents of the bag onto the futon and exposing Gintoki for the creep that he is. A skimpy nurse outfit, a skimpy maid outfit, a skimpy cat outfit, a skimpy school girl outfit and a skimpy school boy outfit. “You want me to wear this shit out? In public?”
Gintoki’s face falls, as if he wasn’t expecting such an adverse reaction. Toshiro wonders why on earth Gintoki would ever think that he would be okay with it. “I wanted to try a little roleplay… you know… recreate our first meeting…”
Toshiro scoffs. “Our first meeting? You mean when I called you a dead fish and tried to kill you?”
A vein pops in Gintoki’s neck.
“That’s why I said ‘recreate’, you idiot!”
“Fine!” Toshiro yells, throwing on his Shinsengumi jacket. “7PM at the bar. Let’s see you try to pick me up then, dumbass.”
As Toshiro walks out the door, Kagura returns, sucking on a lollipop. She stares at Gintoki, who’s sat on his futon, surrounded by a pile of cheap sex store costumes. Gintoki sucks in a breath, ready to explain himself, when Kagura holds her hand up to stop him.
“It’s okay, Gin-chan. I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.” She sighs and shakes her head solemnly, shuffling back to the living room. Gintoki is speechless. He has never known the touch of a mother, but this pang of indignant shame feels strangely familiar.
It’s 6PM.
Kagura and Shinpachi are watching a Ladies 4 rerun on the TV, and Gintoki is struggling to tie a tie in the mirror.
“Gin-san, I hate to ask you this when you’re already dressed, but,” Shinpachi says, finally unable to hide his utter confusion, “what the hell are you wearing?”
Gintoki swivels around on his feet to face Shinpachi, tie still hanging, untied, from his neck. “That’s Ginpachi-sensei to you, boy!” he quips, readjusting the lapels of his lab coat. Shinpachi looks even more confused.
“He’s pretending to have a real job so Toshi will like him back,” Kagura says flatly, eyes still fixed on the TV screen.
“Kagura, you work for me,” Gintoki snaps. “And Hijikata already likes me back, okay? The two of you may not know this, but he kisses me every morning.”
Both the children grimace. Gintoki half-regrets sharing that information. He clears his throat.
“Anyway,” he says awkwardly, “I have a very important date tonight, so be good and don’t mess up the place.”
“I didn’t know Hijikata-san had a thing for pharmacists, but good luck, Gin-san!” Shinpachi says, earnestly, like the good-natured kid he is, not a hint of mockery in his round eyes.
“I’m sorry, pharmacist?” Gintoki looks down at his outfit in disbelief.
Kagura rolls her eyes. “Gin-chan, are you leaving or not?”
Gintoki huffs indignantly and heads for the door, flaring the tail of his lab coat behind him. Just before he slides the door shut, he hears Kagura yell at him again.
“Easy, Batman! It’s a lab coat, not a cape!”
Gintoki reaches the bar fifteen minutes early, but to his surprise, Toshiro is already sitting at the counter with a drink, in office wear—a pink button-down and black slacks. Gintoki would be lying if he said he wasn’t underwhelmed, but anything beats the Shinsengumi uniform. He suavely slides into the seat next to Toshiro’s.
“Naughty boy, why aren’t you in class right now?” Gintoki teases, and Toshiro turns to face him, shocked, probably (and rightfully) thinking that a stranger had just said those very bizarre words to him completely unprovoked. When he realises that it’s just Gintoki, his raised eyebrows furrow into a very unimpressed scowl. He scans Gintoki up and down.
“What the fuck are you supposed to be? A pharmacist?”
Gintoki throws his hands up in frustration. “Again with the pharmacist?” He pulls out a book from his coat pocket to clear things up. “I’m a professor.”
“Gintoki, that’s this week’s jump—"
“Ginpachi-sensei,” Gintoki interrupts, clinging on to his persona for dear life, refusing to let his ego be bruised even further. “Playing hooky is against the school rules, you know,” he continues, much to Toshiro’s dismay. “Are you asking to be punished?”
Toshiro gives Gintoki his widest, fakest, customer service smile. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy, sensei,” he mocks. “I’m just an accountant.”
Gintoki smirks. Boring, but this is finally getting somewhere.
“Oh? And to whom do I owe the pleasure?” Gintoki reaches his hand out.
Toshiro slides his hand into Gintoki’s, but freezes once he realises he hasn’t thought of a fucking name for his persona. “Call me whatever you want, sensei.”
Gintoki isn’t pleased with his answer.
“I’d like to have a name to moan in your ear later, handsome.”
Toshiro’s face twists uncomfortably. “They call me… The Demon.”
Gintoki rolls his eyes and drops his hand. “I thought you said you weren’t a student,” he clips, seductive facade all gone. “Pray tell, is chunibyo common for men your age?”
Toshiro chews hard on his lip, knowing he’d lash out and ruin the date if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. Unfortunately, Gintoki takes this as a sign to keep going.
“Well, maybe you are just a student then, aren’t you?” he insists, running his finger under Toshiro’s tie. He swipes Gintoki’s hand away in annoyance. “Playing dress-up like that and sneaking out of school… Naughty boy,” he tuts, completely unfazed by Toshiro’s growing anger.
“You’re the one who wanted to play dress-up, sensei,” Toshiro grits, yanking on Gintoki’s lapel. He almost falls off the bar stool.
“It seems you’ve been bad to get my attention,” Gintoki says, pushing his fake glasses up his nose and adjusting himself on his seat. Toshiro has never seen him so committed before. “Don’t worry, dear boy,” Gintoki whispers, squeezing Toshiro’s thigh through his slacks. “I’m all yours tonight."
Toshiro begins to think that maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all—their faces close in the dim light of the bar, both of them making eyes at each other—until Gintoki yells for the bartender and almost causes his eardrums to explode.
“Two martinis!” he barks, and Toshiro hides his face in embarrassment.
“You got it, Doc!” the bartender yells back, nice enough to humour him. Gintoki slaps his knee.
“Thank you!” he bellows. “At least someone thinks I’m capable of holding an important and nurturing job!”
Toshiro cannot take this anymore. He actually thinks he might pass out from shame.
“You know what? I actually dressed up for you, I even had a bit rehearsed,” he flashes a sexy picture on his phone, just quick enough for Gintoki to get a glimpse. “But you’re being embarrassing tonight, so let’s just go home.”
Gintoki stares at him, eyes wild and incredulous. He grips Toshiro’s arm hard before he can walk away, pulling him back down onto the stool.
“Ow, what the fuck is your problem?” Toshiro snaps, rubbing at his bicep, but Gintoki is so far gone, Toshiro doesn’t even think he heard him.
“Show me,” he says desperately, feeling around Toshiro’s thighs for the outline of his phone in his pants. Toshiro fishes it out before more people start to judgementally stare at Gintoki sexually assaulting the life out of his legs. Gintoki grabs for the phone like a hungry dog. Startled, Toshiro raises his hand high and holds out a finger to stop him. If Gintoki is going to act like an animal, he’s going to be treated like one.
“Okay, you need to calm the fuck down. Sit.” Gintoki sits back on his stool, posture perfect, hands on his lap, eyes still blown wide with anticipation. Fine. If he wants this so much, Toshiro isn’t cruel enough to deny him of it. He crosses his legs and slides his phone on the counter towards Gintoki.
“I just need an A on my final, sensei, please help me… I’ll do anything…” he pleads in his best innocent-seductive voice. Gintoki picks up the phone and stares at the picture. Toshiro, alone in the Shinsengumi barracks restroom, in nothing but a lacy thong and bralette. He looks divine. And the fact that he took this at work? Gintoki doesn’t know if he can wait until they get home tonight. He also doesn’t know that it’s about to get worse. Toshiro throws something at him, and it drapes over the edge of his phone. Gintoki hooks a finger around it and gapes—it’s the thong from the picture. And then Toshiro tosses something else, it lands on his face this time—the bralette.
Gintoki stares at the picture for a few more seconds, head lowered. Without warning, he rips the bralette off his head and grabs Toshiro’s wrist, yanking him off his stool. He storms towards the exit, and Toshiro is scared for his life.
“Come on,” he says despite himself, “you’re wearing a lab coat, you can’t be mad I brought some underwear along…”
Gintoki jerks to a stop and turns around, causing Toshiro to bump clumsily into him. When he regains his footing, he looks up to see blood trickling down Gintoki’s nose.
“I’m not mad, you idiot,” Gintoki says, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
Toshiro laughs and follows behind willingly this time. But Gintoki turns back to face the exit and almost immediately smashes his face against a pillar. He drops to the ground, hands covering his face, curled up and groaning.
Toshiro curses and flips him over to check if he’s still alive. Blood is seeping quickly onto his lab coat and shirt.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” Toshiro mutters, pushing Gintoki’s hands away to look at his nose. It’s smeared in blood and the bar is too dark to see anything else. The bartender appears next to him and hands him a generous stack of tissues. Toshiro grabs them gratefully and holds them up to Gintoki’s nose.
One of the guests runs over from her table and kneels next to Toshiro. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m a doctor,” she smiles reassuringly.
Gintoki extends his non-bloody hand. “Pleasure,” he mumbles, shaking her hand. “That makes two of us.” Toshiro sighs and hangs his head.
“He’s not a real doctor,” he explains. “Here, he’s all yours,” he bows politely, stepping away from his boyfriend. He watches on worriedly as she checks on his nose and shines a small light into his eyes. Then, she stands up and turns to Toshiro with a smile.
“He’s fine, it’s not broken,” she says. “Just apply pressure for a few minutes and you guys can head home.”
Toshiro thanks her hastily and kneels back down to tend to Gintoki. He replaces the bloody tissues with a fresh batch.
“Idiot,” he scolds, yanking Gintoki’s hair back to keep his head up. “Why did you even suggest roleplay if you couldn’t handle it?”
Gintoki groans. “Can you nag at me after I stop bleeding?”
“Well, we’re gonna be here a while, sensei!” Toshiro yells. They’re quiet for a moment, and then he takes Gintoki’s hand and caresses it gently. A knowing smirk grows on Gintoki’s face.
“Should have picked the nurse outfit,” he says, just loud enough for Toshiro to hear.
“Shut up,” he snaps, rolling his eyes, but he knows from the heat rising to his face that the blush is completely betraying him.
“Come on, put it on when we get home,” Gintoki whines. “And wear that lingerie underneath. I promise I’ll feel all better.”
“You’d be the first person to die of excessive nose bleeding.”
Gintoki grins, unfazed. “Out with a bang, right? I’d die happy.”
Toshiro feels his face heat up even more. “You’re ridiculous,” he sputters. “We’re not doing anything tonight. You’re going straight to bed—”
Gintoki gently slips his free hand behind Toshiro’s nape and pulls him down for a kiss. It’s disgusting. Gintoki tastes like blood and mucus and bad breath, but Toshiro cannot, for the life of him, pull away. They kiss until Gintoki needs to catch his breath.
“You taste terrible,” Toshiro says, wiping Gintoki’s blood off his face.
“Mm,” Gintoki hums, cupping Toshiro’s face and wiping away a speck of blood that he’d missed with the pad of his thumb. He smiles dopily. “You’re burning up. Cute.”
“Am not,” Toshiro huffs, pushing Gintoki’s hand away. Gintoki chuckles, very clearly enjoying himself, and Toshiro scowls in response. His face is impossibly hot. “Alright, since you’re well enough to tell jokes, we’re leaving."
“Yeah, we better hurry,” Gintoki says. A drop of blood lands on his cheek. He grins and uses the tissue in his hand to wipe it away. Toshiro blinks in confusion.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s dying of a nosebleed tonight.”
Toshiro feels fluid drip down his nostril, a sour, metallic taste growing at the back of his throat. He quickly grabs a few tissues and wipes away the blood. Embarrassed, he hoists Gintoki up by the armpit and drags him out of the bar.
“Sir? Sir!”
Toshiro turns around in annoyance to face the bartender. “What?” he hisses.
“Um, I think you dropped this,” he says awkwardly, holding up a black thong. Toshiro can feel his nosebleed getting worse. He swipes at the thong and shoves it aggressively in his pocket.
“Thank you very much,” he grits through clenched teeth, quickly walking away with Gintoki in tow, tissues stuffed up both their faces.
From behind, they hear the bartender cheerily yell, “Happy Valentine’s Day!”
Gintoki leans his weight onto Toshiro, causing them to sway as they walk.
“Thanks for trying this with me even though you hated it,” he says, candid, truthful. And then, a kiss on the cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“We are never doing this again,” Toshiro replies, firm, serious. There is silence, and then Gintoki feels an affectionate squeeze on his bicep.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, asshole.”