5am. The streets were deserted, and the sun hadn't yet shown in the horizon, but for Yamato, it was already late. Despite that, he took his time walking up to the inn where Orochimaru stayed. He had no hopes that the man would still be there, so running at that point was futile, but he had to start his search somewhere.
The night before, Yamato had a clone on a roof across from the inn, watching the Sannin from afar as he sat on the bed, reading. Orochimaru knew he was being watched. He also knew where the clone was, and stood by the window, grinning for a disturbingly long time. Yamato's plan was to keep the copy on him and get some rest before he took over the stake out himself overnight. But the clone dispelled the moment he shared a few heated kisses with his senpai.
"That was irresponsible," Yamato said, looking down at the unpaved ground of the side road that led to the inn.
It was so unlike him to abandon a mission; he saw himself as a cautious person when it came to his duties. What else could he have done, though? Told Kakashi, who was all warm and sweaty against him, that he had to leave mid-action because of Orochimaru? That damn man was taking way too much of his life as it was. He wanted that night and Kakashi-senpai wanted it too, or at least needed.
Those sounds, he could still hear them, so alluring, so seductive. The taste of his skin, off his lips. It was lust. It must have been. All the tension, that desire to touch him. Yamato would happily lick every inch of Kakashi's body if he was given enough time, and if he still had some left, he would shove aside his inexperience, throw his senpai on the bed, put himself between his legs and take him over and over, until they were both too exhausted to do anything but pass out on each other.
Yamato halted. His face warmed up as the images displayed so graphically in his mind. He shook his head as if to get rid of them and looked around. There was no one there, but that wasn't the sort of thought a person should have in the middle of the street on the way to work. Still, as he picked his pace again, it didn't take him a full block down the road for his mind to be back to earlier that morning.
When he woke up, he sat on the bed and looked absently at the wall. For a moment, he forgot he wasn't alone, until Kakashi shifted and an arm came into view, stretched onto his side. He eyed over his shoulder. If only he'd stayed a little longer, let his senpai sleep soundly on his chest as he stared at the ceiling, pretending that was just like any other morning. That wasn't lust. That evening had nothing to do with physical needs alone, because it hadn't appeased him. If anything, it added another layer of complexity to feelings he had been trying to understand since their first kiss.
When Kakashi tossed on the bed, reached for the pillow he had slept on and shoved his face in it, it forced Yamato's heart to skip a beat. All those little things, they had such an impact on him.
"Are you running away again?" Kakashi said, his grouchy voice muffled by the pillow, as one eye opened.
"I have to."
"You're too strict too early. "
He had to hold back a smile. It wasn't fitting, Kakashi was grumpy, but to Yamato, that was a cute sight.
"Just doing my job, senpai."
"Hm..."
Yamato sank his face into his palms and, for a while longer, he sat there, then turned and watched Kakashi drift back to sleep. The subtle smile he still had on faded and his forehead wrinkled further. It hurt. If the other knew how hard it was to walk away; how much strength he had to summon from within to lift his body off that bed. But Yamato did nonetheless, knowing he now had two days left.
"Two days," he said under his breath. The mission wasn't going anywhere. Two, five, ten days. What different did it make? There was an end day to everything but the mission. He still had to find Orochimaru that morning to make up for his failure. That slippery man, if Yamato became too unfocused he would spend all his time in Konoha looking for him.
Swerving his thoughts away from Kakashi wasn't easy either. His senpai was that one person he would always admire for as long as he lived, for reasons that now had no benefit to the way Yamato felt. Stern, cunning, skilled, responsible–for most part–and cared for others more than he did for himself. But now, there were all these little things Kakashi did and said,... or didn't say and do. If he stood there absolutely still, Yamato could still find something that made parts of him weaken and melt.
Is this lo–
"Yamato-taichou!"
The voice came from a distance as he approached the inn and echoed through the empty street. The pink-haired woman waived and dashed towards him.
"Yamato-taichou!"
"Sakura?" Yamato furrowed his brows, not expecting such a person to be roaming the streets before dawn. "What a surprise."
"I lost track of time," she said, tucking some unruly strands behind her ear. "I'm just coming back from the hospital. We are a little short staffed."
For so long Yamato avoided coming back to Konoha. It didn't occur to him that Sakura, a former member of Team 7–a little girl–was an adult, with a very important job and a life beyond that of a soldier. It was easy to ignore time passing when his own life was so stagnated and, until yesterday, uneventful.
"You must be here for the wedding," her eyes shifted, "everyone is coming back for that,... I guess."
Based on her sullen expression, the girl's life was probably different from what she would have wanted. Her choices hadn't been the smartest ones, and no matter how renowned she became in the last few years, she still pined for the same person. How fitting for her to show up when he had been doing some longing of his own.
"Something like that," Yamato said. "How have you been?"
"I'm good," she said promptly, but then sighed. "Well, so so."
"Is it Sasuke?" It was a basic assumption.
Sakura's face flushed, more apparent now that the sun began to rise. "I don't want to bother you with things like that. You're probably busy."
Not only busy but on a mission he couldn't disclose, especially not to her. Orochimaru got into so many people's business, it was hard to find one ninja of whatever generation that didn't have a grudge against him.
"I'm just tracking someone. Wanna join me?" It was shameless to ask, and Yamato did have a pinch of guilt for wanting her to tag along so he could learn a thing or two from someone with more experience than him in all this relationship thing. She yearned for a person who was never there, and so did he.
"That brings back memories!" She lit up. "Why not?"
"This way," Yamato pointed at the alley that led to the back of the inn. "So, Sasuke, uh?"
"Yeah..."
"He isn't coming to the wedding, is he?"
"I don't know," she gazed down, "but he probably shouldn't. He is not very liked, and considering some of the guests... he wouldn't want to ruin this for Naruto."
Much like Yamato, Sasuke's visits were rare. But, while Yamato was still accepted, in spite of some seeing his face as the clones that attacked them during the war, Sasuke remained a criminal. It would be a long time before Konoha and other villages moved past it. If he were to be honest, he wasn't fond of him either and had, repeatedly, disagreed with Kakashi's decision to let him go.
"It's difficult because...," she said with a pause, then dashed over her words, "I'm always alone and I almost never see him, and sometimes I wonder if this is even a relationship at all."
Yamato empathised.
"And if it is? Is it going to be like this forever?..." she said, "I'll always be by myself while my friends get married and have a real life with the people they love?"
"Sounds tough." And it was, for him too. Time with Kakashi was running out and he hadn't yet figured out what was going on between them. Besides, he couldn't possibly be sure of when he would see his senpai next, just like them.
Sakura simply agreed with a defeated nod. Yamato stopped and turned his focus to the second floor window, then crouched to inspect the ground under it.
"Maybe you should..." he continued and considered his words, he was curious, for himself mostly, "move on."
"No! I can't...!" she stepped back, a hand over her bosom. "I wish..., but no! I can't give up on him. He is doing his best to understand himself and his feelings, and I can't be selfish now."
That sounded familiar. Kakashi-senpai was such a guarded person that it was more likely to imagine he had no feelings than expect him to reveal any, which was why Yamato had been so surprised when he kissed him. He had so many questions, though. How? Why? When did Kakashi begin to see him as something other than a friend? If he had dropped hints over the years, then Yamato failed to pick them up. Was it physical? Was it something more? He still didn't know. They never talked about it, neither then nor now. It was something that happened between them and, by the looks of it, needed no discourse. The same would happen to that evening. Just another thing. What they had wasn't a relationship. It wasn't anything.
It made Yamato a little sick to his stomach. Regardless, he spread his fingers on the ground, then brushed the sand gently to find some pieces of wood that probably fell off the window frame when Orochimaru left. "What if it takes years?"
"Yamato-taichou!" Sakura said with her lips pushed together in a pout.
"I'm sorry," he stood up, rubbed his hands to clear the dirt and attempted a lighthearted smile. "It's hard for me to understand," it really wasn't, "my generation is different," he said with conviction, then jumped onto the wall across from the inn, and up on the roof of the neighbouring house.
"Is it?"
"You don't see many of us married with families," he jerked his head as if asking her to keep up.
"Hm," she took a moment and followed Yamato. "I never noticed. My parents are just regular people, but most all my friends are from shinobi families. I thought it was normal, getting married, having children and all that."
"I'm not of your parents' generation," Yamato said, furrowing his brows.
"Eh?" Sakura's eyes bulged. "I thought you were the Hokage's age."
"He is not that old either, and I'm four years younger..."
"Sorry, it's not like I ever read your medical record, Yamato-taichou. They are pretty sealed, Hokage's eyes only. You know, the two of you make for a very mysterious couple."
"A what?" She couldn't possibly know there was something going on between them!
"You know, pair of people," Sakura said and gave a dismissive wave of hand, "Can you believe I still haven't seen Kakashi-sensei's face? Have you? You must have."
"On occasion."
"Give me more!" She clasped her hands with a grin, "How does he look like? Handsome? I bet he is handsome."
"Nah, just a plain regular face." What an understatement that was. She didn't need to know the truth, and he also didn't trust himself to talk about Kakashi without looking smitten.
"That all? I was hoping for details!" She pursed her lips but turned to the clang of shop roller shutters a couple of blocks down from where they were. "In any case, this generation thing is nonsense. We are all alive right now, so anything is possible."
Even if Sakura believed that, and they were only 10 years apart or so in age, the world they grew up in was very different.
"I like your outlook better than mine," he said, noticing that the girl seemed distracted. He followed her eyes towards the commercial street. "If you have other plans-"
"No, I...," she paused for a second and gave him an apologetic smile, "I promised mom I would get her flowers today. Because of the wedding, the good ones get sold so quickly."
"You should go. This will take a while."
Sakura apologised a few more times and left. The sun rose above the horizon, revealing the disturbed condensation on the roof. Steps Orochimaru likely left on purpose for him to track. Yamato had to follow, as he had nothing else to go by, in more ways than one. That conversation only confused him further. He should have talked to someone else.
...
That fresh scent on the pillow. Tenzō must have slept with his hair still wet from the shower. As nice as it was, it didn't make up for the fact that Kakashi, yet again, was waking up to find the other gone. Twice they spent the night together, and twice the other left him before morning. This time, however, it appeared he left no message.
It was already late, judging by the how the sun streaming in through the window hitting Kakashi's feet as they peeked out from the blankets. No one would be barging down the door to remind him to go to work; how comforting. That bed, at that moment, was his small and peaceful haven.
Kakashi shut his eyes. Visions of the previous night flashed before him and a voice inside told him to regret it, but still, he was conflicted. His fingers ran along his neck, his jaw. There was a lingering sensation of Tenzō's teeth on his skin, the hand that traced down his chest and shamelessly touched him. It was still so vivid, he couldn't deny it, forget it, reject it. Not yet.
Although, the person he was yesterday was so alien to him. Sleeping on a strange bed, no mask, no care. It was the heaviest he had ever slept. He had no memory of how he ended up in Tenzō's arms, but he spent the night tucked into him. Whenever he shifted, the other would pull him closer, and instead of feeling constricted, it soothed him.
His bliss wasn't meant to last. He chased after his urges, indulged in pleasure and now it was time to come back to reality. The world where he was the leader of the village, Tenzō was his subordinate, gone for months. Where he had to sit for hours on end giving missions to new ninjas. Where he would watch the happiness of others while dismissing his own. Reality always treated him poorly, but he returned to it every time. He was, after all, responsible for it.
Tenzō was still all over him. He needed a warm shower, wash all that doubt away. Wash his top. Get ready.
It took him a few more minutes before he had the courage to move, dropping his trousers on the way to the bathroom and picking up the top from the floor. Tenzō probably left in a hurry. The place was messy, just like they left the night before. Kakashi imagined that he would at least put clothes in the washing machine. He has never considered before, but maybe Tenzō was the messy type. In that case, he shouldn't have complained about the tidiness of his office that time.
Kakashi switched the lights on in the bathroom and caught a sight of his reflection in the mirror. "What the...," He said and approached it. No wonder he could still feel the bites on his neck, they were still there. His lips curved as he touched the marks again, wondering if he left some on Tenzō too.
What if he did? What if he did and the other didn't notice? Considering Tenzō ran off, he wouldn't have. The idea of them both hiding teeth marks under their tops amused him, but what was even more entertaining was Tenzō walking about with exposed bite marks on his face. He wore tops that only covered up to the chin, so it was a possibility. How mad would the other be if he had to explain where the bites came from?
Kakashi snorted at the thought; he truly was a bully sometimes.
He turned on the shower and went in to wash the remnants of the night before, choosing, once again, to ignore that nagging voice. He could deal with it after he was clean, and had some breakfast. It was unpleasant to try and focus on an empty stomach.
...
Nothing turn out how he expected, however.
When Kakashi pointed out to Tenzō that the apartment was barren, he had no idea how bad the situation was. There was nothing there. None of his basic needs. No blow dryer, no hair gel, no washing machine, no clothe hanger, no food. Apart from some nuts, disgusting instant coffee and a tin with a sad pinch of yellowed tea leaves inside, the kitchen was empty. It was as bad as Naruto's place when he was 11 years old, safe for the spoiled milk, only because there wasn't any to begin with.
I really need to have a conversation with him about minimum living standards. Kakashi thought as he made a sharp turn and shuddered.
It didn't matter that the sun was shining, every time the wind blew Kakashi shivered and tucked his hands even deeper into his pockets. He had to ensure some part of his upper body was still warm. The tight top under his shirt was wet, and so was the mask. He couldn't remember if he had the vest on the night before, but if he had, he didn't find it that morning. If that wasn't enough, he appeared even more undone with his towel-dry hair that kept flopping over the headband right into his eyes.
Kakashi had to take a longer path, hiding behind lamp posts in narrow streets, waiting for alleyways to quiet down so he could dash through them. He didn't care about reputation all that much, but even for him, this was a new low. He hoped that if anyone got to see him, that it was some random village folk rather than someone he actually knew.
But, like a protagonist of a bad joke, Kakashi stood behind some bins in a back alley, staring down at the Hokage's residence only a few feet away. Between him and the doors to warmth, hair gel and decency, were a set of wheels, green bodysuit and a bowl cut.