Part 1/? (I legit hit the word cap, this post will not let me save anymore)
Rokudaime had just cut the ribbon marking the official reopening of the general hospital after the catastrophic damages it sustained during the Fourth War. Tenzo, at the Hokage's side, watched the flutter of the vibrant silk fall to the ground. Erupting in cheers, the crowd celebrated, civilians, medics, and shinobi alike proud to see Konoha's road to recovery take another major step forward.
Tenzo thought he would feel relieved, but as the crowd dispersed to partake of a humble offering of celebratory sweets courtesy of the academy whose students were eager to contribute, even if by small, pastry means. Iruka was a genius for that. It was only natural for the Hokage to go over to him to offer his heartfelt gratitude, but not before clapping a hand on Tenzo's shoulder, nodding once, then departing.
Normally, the small gesture was enough for Tenzo to carry with him for at least a week, replaying the inconsequential thing over and over like it meant anything more than it really did. It had been such a comfort, in the short term. But as the feeling faded, Tenzo always ended up feeling more empty than before. This time, he only felt somewhat numbed, and somehow, a little guilty. Because rather than loiter slowly behind Kakashi like a lost puppy looking for another command to receive praise for, his eyes turned to the other man plastered to the Hokage's side, that right-hand man and forgiven war criminal, Uchiha Obito.
Obito was already looking at him. And when their eyes met, a certain glint of satisfaction flared followed with a subtle, pleased smile.
He mouthed something, and Tenzo froze, heart smashing against his ribs like an agitated bird desperate for an exit.
'Good boy.'
Tenzo was dizzy. He felt his mouth open and close like a gaping fish, felt his cheeks creep with a burn like a wildfire. Obito did not even have to signal any sort of followup. When he turned and left, Tenzo was not far behind. Perhaps it was the lightheadedness, but the way Obito slipped through the crowd felt fluid, serpentine, even, where Tenzo felt increasing difficulty moving at such a pace, especially when his apparently recognizable face started to generate some attention.
"--oh Yamato! That's the man who we'd never finish this project without." A construction worker alerted his conversation circle which caught the attention of the foreman on the project.
"So glad to see you here! Events like these us common folk are hardly able to properly thank men like you upstairs." The brawny foreman bellowed, mighty pleased.
Shortly, Tenzo was surrounded by the construction crew, some of whom had already started to pre-game for evidently a long, festive night ahead as they laid their arms across Tenzo's shoulders, swaying him a little with their jovial spirits. Tenzo could hardly get a word in when the crowd thickened. Other voices started to chime in; a few citizens whose homes he had reconstructed, a child pulling at his pant leg with some sort of gift for fixing something or another. The stories began to run over each other, and Tenzo found himself nodding, mumbling thank you, trying to accept whatever was put into his hands.
Bright red, panicked, Tenzo desperately tried to catch sight of where Obito had gone.
"--drinking with us? Our treat--"
"Uh, uh-huh." Tenzo nodded, not entirely paying attention to what he was agreeing to. But the moment his unwitting consent had been given, he was practically pulled by the tide of celebratory-minded construction workers who had caught themselves a man of the hour.
Only then did Tenzo find himself locking eyes with Obito again, the Uchiha, pleased as a cat with cream for some reason. It was an expression that made Tenzo quiver at the core before he was consumed by the throng.
The night was rambunctious to say the least, the bar full of loud, inebriated revelers, and the drinks just kept coming. And even for someone like Tenzo, who kept his liquor uncannily well, he was starting to get tipsy.
Leaning up against him, the now heavily intoxicated, brawny foreman slurred something about, " ya know, 'ammmato... With tha stern face of yersh 'n how profess.. profez... uhh.. stickler ya are on the job... didn' think it was 'cuz you were shy." The foreman slouched forward, before throwing back another stein in his gullet.
Tenzo cleared his throat, unsure what to say. "Th... thanks..?"
This seemed to prove the foreman's point in his head and made him erupt in boisterous laughter over the comedy of it.
It was a note too loud, and Tenzo had a sense when a man was about to out-drink his liver. Collecting the stein from the foreman's hand was no difficult task, any resistance easily assuaged by a promise of another drink. Tenzo just did not promise what sort of drink, and when he got to the bar, he requested water with a bit of lemon instead. Drunks this far gone couldn't taste anything anyway and the sour of the lemon gave all the pretense needed if there were any taste buds left.
But when Tenzo returned to the table, rather than a slurring, cherry-red foreman and his crew, there was the Uchiha was. Waiting. The construction crew had settled their tab, holding onto one another for dear life. A few of the more coherent ones waved a little at Tenzo before they left. But Tenzo's attention could not be torn from that smug face, lips nursing a drink of his own.
Immediately, Tenzo felt guilt wash over him, even if he lacked the words to describe why or even begin to apologize. Once close enough to be heard, Tenzo started to say, "I'm sorr--
"--still not done partying?" Obito snickered, quirking a brow at the fresh drink Tenzo held.
Tenzo blinked, then swallowed hard. "I..it's water."
"Thannnk godd." Obito exclaimed, his mug abandoned as he leaned back with a sprawl.
Tenzo blinked again. "You're drunk."
"No ssshit." Obito mumbled, letting an eye shut, but maintained on Tenzo's figure. Always. "Did ya like yourrr little treat?"
Even though Tenzo was confused by the question, he felt his face redden by the phrasing. "Let's get you home." It was not the first time Tenzo was the designated sober one, and it would not be the last. Bringing Obito's arm up around Tenzo's shoulders, the ANBU Commander brought the Rokudaime's right hand advisor to his feet.
Obito's hot breath cascaded against Tenzo's neck, something of a purr on his lips when he insisted on getting an answer. "Did you?" But now, even Obito seemed to hear how vague the original question even was, so he restructured it with, "Did ya have a nn..nice time? A li.. little recognition, hmmm?"
Tenzo had already negotiated them out of the bar, but now in the fresh night air with fewer and fewer people around, there were less excuses to be distracted and avoid Obito's questions.
But when Tenzo gave one of those polite nods, it was not enough. Obito knew better. And, it was a little, tiny itty bit fun to toy with Tenzo. He always had this evasive approach to conflict which was a sufficient defense for the passerby or those who were only satisfied for what they saw on the surface... but it was infinitely gratifying to get Tenzo to paint himself into a corner. So, naturally, Obito nuzzled his face into the crook of Tenzo's shoulder and neck, reveling in the immediate shiver it elicited.
Obito did not expect, however, for Tenzo to follow up the non-response with something more... thoughtful. Concrete. Delicious.
"A little." Tenzo admitted, eyes to the streets, scanning for obstacles, too intently to be entirely genuine. He was more so distracting himself from the warmth of Obito's body, how the proximity made his head swim in a way that had him considering things he would not dare entertain. He only allowed himself to tug at Obito's hip when he swayed too far off balance. Something that after the first time seemed to increase in frequency... more like a response than the throes of intoxication. The very thought of potential deception made Tenzo squirm. Surely, not. He had been down this road before, and it was terrifying for Tenzo to consider. Seeking substance and deeper meaning from the smallest gestures... Bending backwards and into knots trying to hold onto some deluded hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something there for him.
Damn this Obito to hell. Tenzo knew firsthand how delightfully deceptive the works of his genjutsu could be, how perfectly irresistible they were to fall prey to. Naturally, the context now versus then was vastly different, but Tenzo felt in someways no different than when he was bound and milled to the God Tree. Hopeless in wanting to hope. The genjutsu then was... pitiful, during, and in retrospect. Was Obito even privy to the details? It felt like he was.
"I think.. I would have liked to have a drink with you." Tenzo admitted softly, even if it felt as heavy as condemnation.
A rigidness flashed through Obito's body, and then, it felt all too perfectly molded against Tenzo's side. Obito's face had made its home with that crooked nuzzle, and Tenzo could have sworn that he felt a wicked smile spread through the fabric of his turtleneck.
If Tenzo was being honest now, he was not, on the books, supposed to know where Obito took residence. And out of respect for his privacy, opted instead to bring him to Tenzo's own place, even if it was a bit more of a walk. Not that it mattered. Like this, Tenzo would have walked anywhere for any duration of time. How pitifully touch starved-- and he decided he hated that about himself. He hated those human needs, those things that always seems to drag him right back into wanting and pining for things that just were not his to have. Even if he had long been free of ROOT, it did not dismiss the purpose of his making.
Utility. Mokuton. Even if he wore their same clothes, held their ranks, responded to the names they had given him, Tenzo had known, or thought he knew, he was an exception. But blaring in his face was the exact counter to his belief. Sought out, appreciated. Wanted, not just needed. Not just a lumbermill. Not just a shinobi.
Tenzo's home was outside Konoha walls, some ways into the Nara forest. Another kindness, now that he thought on it. The Nara was a private clan that held their grounds quite sacred. That they would allow something, someone like him to reside in his own little cabin was... not something he could ignore. They could have said no without repercussion. By the time he made it to the quiet little place, his head was spinning. He may have even been a bit sloppy, the way he almost tossed Obito onto his futon.
"S.. sorry..." Tenzo mumbled, kneeling to adjust the covers to make Obito a bit more comfortable.
