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Gintoki called it necessary.
Hijikata called it stupid.
Neither of them would have called it a date night, but that was exactly what it was.
“I’m not gettin’ caught watching some dumbass movie with you,” Hijikata said, growling around the filter of his third cigarette in the past hour. He needed the nicotine. Especially now. They were standing in front of one of Kabukicho’s many dilapidated theatres, which was suspicious in and of itself seeing that,
A) This was the theatre that tried to pass the perturbingly similar stains on every seat and nauseatingly sticky floor off as sanitary
B) The current image on the marquee featured a brunette that was coquettishly falling out of her bathing suit top
C) Hijikata was with the Odd Jobs guy.
Gintoki meanwhile, picked his nose with his pinky finger, unimpressed. “It’s not any dumbass movie,” he said back, finger still up his nose. “It’s ‘Babe Watch’. It’s about a lifeguard.”
“I presumed.”
“It’s the sequel.”
Hijikata’s nose scrunched as his eyes flicked over to Gintoki. “There was a first one?”
Gintoki nodded. “Last one ended with a cliff hanger.”
“Charming.”
And without any word or regard to Hijikata’s opinion, Gintoki began walking toward the theatre. “Well then, let’s go. I want popcorn.”
Hijikata prickled. “Hell no, Yorozuya. There’s no way in hell I’m showing my face in there.”
“It’s dark,” he said over his shoulder. “No one will see you.”
“It’s the principle!” Hijikata sputtered back.
“Principle?” Gintoki turned around, blinking at him with those dead fish eyes that resembled two marbles. Not the shiny marbles though. More like the one defective marble where the color is a little muddled and glass is clouded. “What principle? Does an hour and a half worth of quality tits require principle?” Hijikata went all red. He still found something about the word ‘tits’ particularly appalling.
“Go watch your porno,” Hijikata said, with a huff, expression twisting. “Just don’t expect me to follow you in there.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to follow me,” Gintoki replied. “I was just expecting you to buy my popcorn. You know, as a gentlemanly gesture.”
“I wasn’t aware that this was a date,” Hijikata grunted back.
Gintoki gave him a look, something apathetic, before he shrugged and turned back around on his heel. He always did that. Just fucking left when he felt like it, like he didn’t even give a shit. “Thought I would at least try,” he continued, voice flat. “All right then. Bye.”
Hijikata lunged forward, slamming Gintoki back into the theatre’s marquee. He yanked him forward with fistfuls of his shirt, spitting cigarette smoke in his face, “What kind of fucker tries to have a date at a porno flick? And all you want to do is eat? You’re sick.”
Gintoki didn’t even flinch. He just looked incredibly offended by the whole ordeal, arguing back, “What’s wrong with having a snack? I get hungry.”
Hungry. Hijikata had to admit he was actually pretty hungry right now. He hadn’t eaten in hours, and the thought of yakitori—with mayonnaise, of course—made him salivate a little. So did the sheen on Gin’s lips as he spouted another stupid ass excuse. All it really was, was probably just spit. But it was the sexiest, most alluring spit Hijikata had ever seen, and the thought of leaning in and tasting it sounded as good as the mayo idea. Almost.
Gintoki stopped talking at some point and was looking up at him, anticipating a retort. Not that Hijikata had anything intelligible to say. Well, he had intelligible things to say, just not pertaining to this, to Gintoki’s everlasting stupidity.
But an argument was an argument nonetheless, so instead, he went with what he knew. “You’re fucked up,” he hissed.
“You’re fucked up,” Gintoki parroted. Finally, his eyes flickered with that irritating gleam, something between amusement and ‘come at me bro’. The first emotion he’d shown all day. And dare Hijikata call it sexy. But it was. And thanks to the sexy spit, and the even sexier look in Gintoki’s eyes, the sound of having a cushy, stained little spot all to themselves in the lewd darkness of a porno theatre was actually pretty appealing.
“Says the one who brought me to a porno.” Hijikata tightened his grip. Gintoki squirmed. It wasn’t all that easy to drag 180-some pounds of deadweight by his collar, but Gintoki eventually got the picture and began obediently walking behind. Probably wearing that shit-eating smirk. Hijikata was certain of it. Well, as certain as one’s imagination could possible be.
He just simply couldn’t bring himself to turn around and look.
—- o —-
The theatre smelled sweaty.
It was the only way Hijikata could describe it. Sweaty mixed with old butter popcorn and god, it was disgusting.
So was the movie that was currently rolling. The last time Hijikata looked up, there was talk of busty lead being fired from her job as a lifeguard. Now, fifteen minutes into the movie, all he could hear was loud, wet sounds and yowling moans. He was tempted to glance over again for some bizarre reason, but just as he pulled back, the strong fingers entangled in his hair yanked him back in again.
“Let me—ah, let me fucking breathe,” Hijikata hissed against Gintoki’s lips. Which loosely translated as: I need another cigarette. Pronto.
“Nope. No breathing allowed,” Gintoki said back, whispering, and yet loud enough to be heard over the actress’ squawks of poorly played pleasure. “It’s designated Gin-san time.”
Gintoki also tasted like old butter popcorn, but it wasn’t disgusting. Well, it probably was disgusting, but Hijikata hadn’t really taken the time to notice. As soon as they sat down, last row of theatre of course, and assessed the rest of their fellow audience members—a group of giggling teenage boys, and a shifty old man wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap—Gintoki kicked his feet up onto the seat in front of him, and hooked an arm over Hijikata’s shoulders.
“Get off me.”
“No.”
And thus, it stayed that way.
For two minutes.
They weren’t even through the second commercial, advertising a product for erectile dysfunction, when Gintoki started squiggling around in his seat. Squiggling must have been a sign of impatience. Or an overflow of pent up sexual energy, because Gintoki suddenly flopped into Hijikata. Before he even got the chance to light up a cigarette, Gintoki was smooching the living daylights out of him.
Cue sharp whispering, shoving, a few pawing smacks (yes, Gintoki smacked at him), before they equally decided that kissing was both a lot easier to do, and a lot quieter.
It was also a hell of a lot more fun.
Gintoki kissed him good and hard through the previews and the movie’s introduction, calloused fingers grabbing at his neck, his jaw, palming his cheek. They were just as tender as they were challenging, enough to infuriate Hijikata, and send him crashing in for more. He crashed into Gintoki’s nose, his teeth—he was pretty sure his lip was swollen at this point, but it didn’t occur to him to care.
From Hijikata’s peripheral, the sex scene raged on. He couldn’t make out much—an arm here, a leg there—but the high-pitched moans pulsing through the crummy sound system were distracting, arousing, but mostly obnoxious. His body trembled. He imagined the actress’ body, and how the sight of all that soft, pretty skin was enough to last him for weeks. He liked his women sweet like that. Cute in the face with delicate breasts he’d love to kiss all over.
Fuck, it felt good when that hot tongue began flicking at his earlobe. He almost moaned out loud. But he swallowed that immediately because one thing was for certain, he wasn’t about to be playing sex sound ping-pong with a porno.
Gintoki murmured something, probably something dumb, before that hot tongue guided Hijikata’s earlobe into his even hotter mouth. Now, he could practically hear the strength in Gintoki’s lungs as hot air pushed through his nostrils, passing along the shell of Hijikata’s ear. Strength that could slam him into a brick wall, and jerk him forward by his cravat into a biting kiss that left his jugular black and blue. Apparently, he liked his guys like that, rough, provocative, enough to get his adrenaline pulsing and his temper sparking.
“Oi,” Gintoki said, deep voice vibrating Hijikata’s eardrums. “Pay attention when someone says something to you.”
“I can’t hear a word you’re saying,” Hijikata said back. “Speak up, asshole.”
Gintoki pouted, Hijikata could feel his lower lip poke out against the side of face. Finally, that voice was back again, maddening as ever. “I said you better stop distracting me.” He kissed his temple, his cheek. “I paid good money to get into this movie.”
“Then watch your goddamn movie.”
“I’ll watch it when you stop distracting me.”
Hijikata’s brows lowered. He turned into Gintoki, now his lips pressed against his cheek, “For fucks sake,” he hissed, “just watch the fuckin’ movie.”
The seat’s hard, wooden arm dug into his ribcage (they weren’t the fancy seats where the arms actually swiveled, that was way too fancy for this place). It was his reminder, his warning that they were right there in public with at least four witnesses who could rat him out. He could hear it now…
“‘I saw the demon Vice-Chief of the Shinsengumi getting it on with some freak with a perm.”
Oh god…
“Makes good background noise doesn’t it?” Gintoki purred, doing anything but paying attention to the movie.
Breathy gasps filled the auditorium and tickled his flesh. In tandem, the scratch of Gintoki’s shave-roughened skin against his lips, and the strong shoulder wedging itself between them made Hijikata’s blood tingle, and his toes curl in his worn leather shoes. He glanced upward, sighed.
The man was sucking on the woman’s jiggling tits as he pounded into her—fuck that was hot—but not any hotter than the prospect of Gintoki slipping between his legs, undoing his belt, and sucking his cock right here and now.
Hijikata squirmed. Dammit, how long would this sex scene be? How long was this fucking movie?
“They say that this is how old fogies revive their sex lives,” Gintoki continued, leaning back again to meet Hijikata’s lips. He didn’t kiss him though. No, he just sat there, lingering, passing breaths between their open lips. “Watching a little porn together can be good. Kinda fun, huh?”
“Don’t talk about nasty shit like that,” Hijikata grunted back.
“What? You don’t like watching porn with someone else? This isn’t sexy?”
Hijikata huffed and wriggled in his seat. “Fuck no.”
“Well that was rude. You’re so rude. Repent, please.” Gintoki grabbed Hijikata. There was no time to even consider repenting when his large hand palmed the back of his skull, bringing them together, this time to actually kiss.
It was one nice, normal kiss. Just one. Then Gintoki started inching away from Hijikata’s lips, and from there, he was all over the place. One second he was on Hijikata’s lips, the next he was kissing his eyelids. It was only fair to keep up, so Hijikata began grabbing at Gintoki, tugging at his collar, his hair, his face. Between all the groping and sloppy, slurping kisses, things were starting to get rather violent. Gintoki’s boot kicked into the chair in front of him, Hijikata toppled over the seat’s arm (well, at least he didn’t have to worry about it stabbing him in the gut any more). Their grunts and groans were loud, not loud enough to rise over the sound system’s boom, but they certainly lingered there in the stale, old-popcorn air.
Hijikata wasn’t even thinking straight at this point. He had one thing on his mind as his hand slipped down Gintoki’s sturdy chest. Nothing felt better than the shiver that shocked every muscle the man’s body. Well, maybe it felt a little better when Hijikata’s hand finally made it to the curving erection in Gintoki’s lap, and gave it a good hard squeeze. Gintoki tossed his head backward and shook.
He shook some more. And some more. Hijikata felt it in his abdominals and immediately glanced up—what the hell.
Gintoki was laughing.
Offended, and maybe a tad embarrassed, Hijikata rammed a fist into his gut. Gintoki doubled over but kept laughing anyway, just as stubborn assholes do. Hijikata thought of pummeling him right then and there.
Gintoki must have read his mind, because he managed to sit up enough to squawk an incomprehensible noise. Then he flopped back over again.
Hijikata didn’t want to listen. He didn’t want to know. He was mad, and humiliated, which made him even more mad. There was no coming down from it at this point. Even if the sound coming from the speakers was, well, rather bizarre. He glanced up at screen.
They were in a different scene now. A new actress, same actor. The actress had somehow ended up on the floor underneath the actor as he yanked at the hem of her wet bathing suit that was at least a few sizes too small. Nice thighs, cute ass. But the man continued pulling her bikini tighter and tighter, and for a second, Hijikata wondered how tight panties could get before they cut off someone’s circulation.
‘Kimiko-chan.’
‘P-pull them. More.’
‘Like this?’
‘Ahh, more.’
Gintoki beside him, howled. “What was that?” he said between laughs. “He’s giving her a wedgie. He’s giving her an actual wedgie. Ah! It’s making me hurt. I hurt for her!”
Goodness, it wasn’t that funny, but perhaps it being in the presence of laughter sent a giggle up his throat. He pushed out a cough, and went hunting for his cigarette carton. But the image of it lingered in his mind—thin legs in the air, arms, her squealing voice as she mewled for attention. It tickled the back of his throat, relentless. This movie was so…absurd.
It was hard not to laugh.
Hijikata twisted his head from the screen, trying to keep himself contained to a chuckle. But as usual, Gintoki egged him on, and he found himself slipping fast into a fit. “Yorozuya, never talk me into another one of your stupid ass movies again,” he said, hoping Gintoki couldn’t hear the giggle in his voice.
Of course he did. Gin glanced over at him. He was grinning like a mad man.
“What? Don’t you like watching porn with me?”
Hijikata rolled his eyes. “You already asked that.”
“No, I asked if you don’t like watching porn with someone else. That’s a completely different question.”
Touché.
For some reason the rest of the movie was hilarious. Not that it was supposed to be a comedy, but they were high off each other’s laughter, and suddenly even the word ‘butt’ was hysterical. Like two thirteen-year-old boys, they kicked their feet up onto the chairs in front of them, one munching stale popcorn, the other smoking a cigarette, and laughed.
At some point Hijikata glanced over at Gin. He didn’t have a reason—they were coming off another bout of laughter, and something about it just felt right.
Light and color bounced off Gintoki’s features in the face of the grainy projection. His eyes, again, looked like marbles. Defective, muddled, and perfect.