Disclaimer: I do not own Gintama.

Warnings: Sexual themes, slight language.

A/N: To read the full, explicit version of this chapter, please visit my livejournal. I will not be posting it here for obvious reasons.

The bell on the pharmacy door was a particularly obnoxious addition to an already obnoxious day, and Gintoki had half a mind to reach up and yank it off. Luckily, he still had enough good sense to resist that particular impulse; the last thing he needed was to give the Shinsengumi another excuse to bother him, especially over such trivial property damage.

The aisles weren't labeled. He cursed internally as he walked over to the cashier, an elderly man with thick glasses.

"Excuse me," he said, leaning in close. "Where can I find the condoms?"

The cashier blinked up at him owlishly. "Heh?" he said, putting a hand to his ear and leaning in closer himself.

Raising his voice a little, Gintoki asked, "Where can I find the condoms?"

"Heh?" the cashier said, wrinkled face scrunching up in consternation.

"Where can I find the condoms?" Gintoki asked again, louder still.

The cashier's hand was shaking from the effort of holding it up so long. "Heh?" he said.

Gintoki, already on edge from the events of that morning, reached the end of patience. "WHERE CAN I FIND THE CONDOMS, YOU DEAF OLD GEEZER?!" His voice echoed around the entire store, and almost seemed to make the walls shake with its sheer volume.

"Oh," said the cashier, using his other hand to pick his nose. His mouth opened slightly as he lapsed into deep thought. "Aisle five."

Fuming, Gintoki headed over to aisle five, trying his best to ignore the disapproving glare he received from some middle aged lady who had been standing in line to pay. And, lo and behold, he ran into a familiar face. A very unwelcome familiar face.

"You," he said.

Dark eyes narrowed. "It's not 'you'; it's Katsura."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Katsura huffed. "I'm here looking for the materials necessary to construct explosive devices with which I can overthrow the corrupt Shogunate, and drive the Amanto out of Edo once and for all."

"Bullshit," said Gintoki.

They glared at each other for several moments, until Katsura decided to relent. "Fine," he said, crossing his arms. "Elizabeth has been experiencing some...problems, recently, and I am here in an attempt to alleviate her distress."

Gintoki glanced furtively at the items that Katsura had been perusing; they were all medicated creams for fungal infections and, particularly, athlete's foot. "Ah," he said.

Both men felt a wave of awkwardness, and turned back to the shelf at the same time. Whose bright idea was it to put condoms next to fungal creams, anyway?

"So, Gintoki," said Katsura, reaching for a brightly-coloured box. "I couldn't help but overhear that you are looking for condoms."

"Perhaps," said Gintoki, reaching for a box of medium-sized condoms with a picture of a scantily clad woman on the front. 'Ribbed for her pleasure,' it read.

"Water-balloon fight?" asked Katsura, putting the box back and pulling out another one.

"Yeah," said Gintoki, doing the same. "That's right; I'm using these for a water-balloon fight."

"You know," said Katsura, ostensibly examining the ingredients on his most recent acquisition. "I'm certain that penis-shaped water balloons would be a very effective revolutionary tool."

Gintoki gave him a sidelong glance. "No."

"I'm serious," said Katsura. "Men these days are intent on establishing their heterosexuality. Undoubtedly, they would be thrown into a panic if phallic objects filled with liquid were launched at them from above, thus making them vulnerable to attacks from more conventional weapons."

"I know that you're serious," replied Gintoki. "That's what makes it disturbing." Deciding that the box he currently had in his hand was good enough, he made his way back to the cashier without bothering to add anything further.

The bell rang obnoxiously as he exited the pharmacy.

Gintoki hummed in satisfaction, sweetness melting languidly on his tongue. There was nothing quite like a parfait on a summer’s day; he felt better already.

“You should stop making those noises; people could get the wrong idea.”

Gintoki opened his eyes to see a bored-looking Hijikata sitting across from him. “This is my booth,” he said. “Get your own, mayo-freak.”

“We got a report about an hour ago,” said Hijikata, taking a drag on his cigarette. “Some lady insisted that you were disturbing the peace.”

Gintoki suppressed the urge to groan. “You guys must be bored, or something. Is your caseload really that light?”

“As if that matters, you ass. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t arrest you right now.”

Gintoki took another spoonful of his parfait, pretending to think. “If you arrest me,” he said, after swallowing, “then you’ll have to deal with a crazed and hormonal alien brat who just happens to have super strength.”

“That a threat?”

“No,” said Gintoki. “It’s a fact; and one that I’m not particularly happy about, myself.” It was only a half-lie. “So, why are you really here?”

“…We need your help with a case.”

“Not interested.”

Hijikata’s eyebrows twitched, as if he was trying to restrain himself. “We’ll pay you,” he said.

That caught Gintoki’s attention, except…

“Normally, this is the part where I say that I’d be willing to do it for money. But, you see, that crazed and hormonal alien is still going to be a factor in this equation. When exactly does this case of yours require my services?”

“Now, you idiot.”

“And does it involve anybody in immediate mortal or spiritual peril?”

Hijikata glared. “No.”

“Sorry,” said Gintoki, not really meaning it. “No can do. I already have plans. Good luck with that, though.” He scoffed down the rest of his parfait, which had partially melted, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “If you don’t have it sorted out by tomorrow, and you’re still willing to pay me…well, then we can talk.”

Before Hijikata had a chance to respond, Gintoki sprinted out of the booth, leaving the other man scowling darkly through the window at his steadily retreating form.

“Bastard,” Hijikata growled, but didn’t move to reach for his sword, no matter how tempting it was.

“Ne, Hijikata-san,” said an impassive voice from behind him.

“Gah!” exclaimed Hijikata, jumping a little in his seat. “Don’t just show up out of nowhere, Okita.”

Okita ignored him. “Boss was talking about a ‘crazed and hormonal alien with super strength’. It sounds dangerous; we should investigate.”

Hijikata snorted. “He was probably just talking about that alien girl he lives with. Kagome, or whatever.”

“Kagura,” said Okita. “And you may be right, but I don’t think that we should take a chance. Do you want to wait until we’re bogged down with reports on the property damage?”

Hijikata turned around, giving Okita a look of suspicion. “You’re up to something,” he said. “I don’t know what it is, or why, but you’re definitely up to something.”

Okita smiled. “Whatever gave you that idea? I’m simply acting in the Shinsengumi’s best interests.”

“We still haven’t dealt with this most recent slew of underwear thefts.”

“…Property damage, Hijikata-san.”

Hijikata stood up. “Fine,” he said. “Investigate, if you want. It’s not like I can stop you, anyway.”

He didn’t bother to look back as he left the diner. If he had, he would have seen a very peculiar expression on Okita’s face.

Gintoki arrived back at the Yorozuya to find it empty save for Sadaharu, who was napping quietly in Gintoki’s bedroom. Making his way over to his desk, Gintoki slumped down into his chair and reached into his yukata, pulling out a small plastic bag. He put it down in front of him to examine (as if it could give him the answers to life, the universe, and why the hell this was happening). The box that sat inside of the innocuous layer of white plastic almost seemed to emanate a sense of finality. It was absurd, he realized, to feel this way about a box of condoms. But he couldn’t help it.

He was nervous.

He sat there for a few minutes, tapping his foot against the floor. Eventually he tired of this, and decided to go through some of the bills that had piled up over the last few months; bills that were probably never going to be paid.

Eventually the front shouji slid open, and Gintoki’s head snapped up from the invoice that he had not really been reading.

“I’m home,” said Kagura, looking at him with an almost frightening intensity. Her clothes were torn and muddy, and there were scratches – light, but still noticeable – on both of her arms.

“Hey,” said Gintoki, his eyes moving up and down her figure with something entirely different from lust. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Nothing,” she said, walking around the two couches in the middle of the room, until she was right in front of Gintoki’s desk. “I just ran into some idiots who were asking for a beating.”

“That so?” he asked.

Kagura didn’t reply as she sat down on the desk and slid herself over so that she was just inches away from Gintoki, almost face to face. She licked her lips and pushed herself forward, forcing Gintoki to move his chair back in order to make room. She then sat herself down in his lap, straddling him securely as she wound her arms around his neck.

Gintoki felt his body reacting to the closeness, and his heart rate accelerated. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, feeling her breath ghosting against his lips.

“You already know the answer to that,” she said, pressing herself even more intimately against him as she buried her head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.

He found himself looking up at the light on the ceiling, unsure of what to do with his hands. He wanted to return her embrace, but he also wanted to dig his fingers into the armrests of his chair. In the end, he found a comfortable middle ground: doing nothing. Growing frustrated at his own uncertainty, he said, “If you’re expecting me to be good at this…”

She tightened her arms a little, her grip becoming just short of painful. “Don’t care,” she said, voice slightly muffled by the fabric of his yukata. She then raised her head and removed her arms from their death-grip around his neck, reaching up to cup his face with both of her hands.

The feel of those hands, calloused and warm, was like a spark igniting a fire. It was like a dam had burst inside of him, and all of the pent-up worry and frustration and need came bubbling to the surface. Suddenly, he found that he didn’t really care anymore; not about awkwardness, or about judgment, or about Sadaharu overhearing them. He found that he couldn’t stop himself as his arms wound around her waist, couldn’t stop the way that his lips met hers with almost embarrassing eagerness.

Kagura moaned into his mouth, deepening the kiss with a passion that was even more intense than his, more desperate. She broke the kiss when she lowered her hands from his face, maneuvering one of them to pull down the already loose sleeve of his yukata, while she braced the other against his shoulder.

“Move your arm,” she said, tugging meaningfully at his sleeve once she realized that it wouldn’t come off.

“Oh,” said Gintoki, too distracted to be embarrassed, and he released his arms from around her waist. She didn’t hesitate, making quick work of the yukata, and then starting on the buttons of his black shirt. Before Gintoki had time to gather his wits, he was already bare-chested.

Kagura began to trace his muscular abdomen with the tips of her fingers, stopping every so often to pay special attention to one of his many scars.

“Gin-chan…” she said, her expression softening. “Gin-chan has been hurt way too much.”

Thrown off kilter by the sudden change in her demeanor, Gintoki didn’t reply.

Kagura didn’t seem to be waiting for one, though, and she leaned forward, placing her lips upon one of the more prominent scars, just above his heart. She lingered there for a moment, her lips warm and soft against his skin, and Gintoki felt a swell of affection that made his mouth run dry. Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her upright, leaning in for another kiss.

It was slower this time, more tender, but no less intense. Gintoki allowed his hands to wander up and down Kagura’s back, to trace the gentle curve of her hips. He wanted this, he realized, as her tongue moved hot and slick and wet against his own. He wanted it very, very much.