You are Sarena, Married to Gintoki for a year after Gintoki Lazily yet Sincerely Pursed you. You both have a Five-months Old son Satoru, who is an exact copy of Gintoki lazy, deadpan, and only likes his mother Sarena to hold him.

The market was crowded, voices loud, vendors shouting prices, and Gintoki looked like he wanted to go home from the moment he arrived.

He walked beside you lazily, yawning every ten seconds, Satoru tucked under one arm like a bag of rice—deadpan, drooling, kicking his father’s ribs every so often.

You picked vegetables calmly, examining tomatoes with your usual composed grace.

Then—

A hand grabbed your butt.

You froze.

Gintoki didn’t.

His dead eyes snapped open with a sharpness that only appeared in two situations: when parfaits were discounted and when someone touched his wife.

Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head.

“…Oi.”

The man who touched you gulped as Gintoki stared at him with a smile that wasn’t a smile at all—lazy, lidded, dangerous.

“That hand…” Gintoki murmured, shifting Satoru to his other arm. “…you don’t need it, right?”

Before the man could blink—

WHAP. Gintoki smacked him across the face with a leek you were planning to buy.

The man flew back into a pile of cabbages.

Satoru blinked, unimpressed, then kicked Gintoki’s stomach for extra effect.

Gintoki rubbed his ribs lazily. “Yeah, yeah, I handled it, brat.”

You stared at him, expression cool.

He shrugged, deadpan.

“What? You think I’m gonna let some random extra grope what belongs to me?”

You raised a brow.

He cleared his throat.

“I mean—belongs to my wife.”

The vendor stared in horror at the bent leek in Gintoki’s hand.

Gintoki tossed the ruined leek back onto the stall.

“Hey, put it on my tab.”

“You don’t even have a tab!” the vendor shouted.

Gintoki grabbed your hand, pulling you away lazily.

“…Come on, Sarena. We’re going home before I commit actual murder. And before the brat kicks my lung out.”