sentinelpri

[sentinelpri]

Groomsmen

Iruka Umino finds himself distracted as he works at the mission desk. 

Ever since Naruto has come back to the village, things have been chaotic. Iruka knows that he should be worried about the Akatsuki and about the village- and sure, he is- but there’s one more thing that’s been bothering him…

His friend, Kakashi, has been hanging around someone new; a pale man around Iruka’s height with light brown hair, a head guard, and captivating charcoal eyes. Iruka has never seen him before despite knowing the faces of everyone in the village, but he wears Konoha’s leaf symbol on the forehead of his guard, so Iruka knows he’s one of their shinobi.

Iruka sorts through the papers in front of him with the mysterious man on his mind. Shinobi continue to approach, turning in their mission reports and allowing Iruka to sort them away. It’s half past noon and Iruka is exhausted, but there’s so much work to be done and so few people, even years after the Konoha Crush, that he has to fill in that gap where he can. He’s so out of it that he doesn’t even notice when Kakashi approaches the desk until he hears the older man’s voice. 

“Iruka, I have something important to tell you,” Kakashi speaks.

“What is it?”

“Guy and I are engaged,” Kakashi says, holding his left hand out. Over the glove that he normally wears, on his left hand, there’s a ring; an obnoxious silver creation with a giant, expensive looking red stone in the middle. It’s not very Kakashi, but it is very Guy. “It’s official, rings and all.”

“Aw, really? That’s so sweet! Congratulations,” Iruka beams, his eyes flickering between Kakashi’s neutral face and the ring he’s wearing.

It’s unlike Kakashi to make a big deal about an engagement or a wedding, let alone publicly go flaunting an engagement ring around. The uncharacteristic behavior from his friend makes the alarm bells in Iruka’s head ring, but then he remembers that it is like Guy to get excited about this sort of thing, and that Kakashi is probably just trying to match his excitement to make him happy. 

“Nice, isn’t it?” Kakashi asks, gesturing to the huge rock on his finger. “Guy went on a long trip to get this stone from Suna. Apparently, Gaara was able to pull some strings and get it for him.”

“That sounds like Guy,” Iruka smiles, then looks back up at Kakashi. “It’s beautiful. I’m truly happy for you.”

“Thank you, but I didn’t come here just to tell you about my engagement.”

Iruka tilts his head. “Oh?”

“You and I have been friends for a long time now, and comrades for even longer. I wanted to ask if you’d consider being one of my groomsmen.”

“Of course!” Iruka excitedly answers. “I’m honored that you’d even ask.” “Great! I’ll see you later, then,” Kakashi offers a nod and turns to leave, but before he can do so, Iruka speaks up.

“Kakashi, wait, I wanted to ask you about something.”

“What is it?”

“Your um, your friend,” Iruka forces the words out. He’s sure that Kakashi will be able to figure out his intentions based on his tone, but he figures it’ll be fine. It’s not like Kakashi is one to go around spreading peoples’ secrets, right? In theory, his crush should stay protected until he’s ready to say something about it- if he ever gets to know this guy well enough that he wants to say something about it. “The one with the brown hair, and the cat-like eyes. Who is he?”

Kakashi pauses for a moment, seemingly confused until realization flashes over his face. 

“Oh, you mean Yamato? What about him?”

“Well, he showed up very suddenly,” Iruka mutters, fiddling with his fingers. “Did he transfer from another village?”

“No, no, nothing like that. He’s from here. He just wasn’t implemented into the regular shinobi forces until recently,” Kakashi says.

“Was he Anbu?”

“Yes, and he was out of the village for a few years on a long-term mission, so it makes sense that you wouldn’t have seen him,” Kakashi explains, pauses, then asks with a furrowed brow- “What’s it to you? Did you interact with him recently? I know he can be a little weird, but I swear he’s a good guy. He really does mean well.”

“I’ve actually never talked to him, it’s just…” Iruka trails off, twiddling his thumbs. Kakashi is his friend, and has been since Naruto was young, so he can’t lie to him. “Well…”

“Oh, I see,” Kakashi laughs. “You like him, right?”

“No! No, it’s not like that,” Iruka tries to lie- and fails immediately. “Okay, well, maybe it is like that… But only a little bit!”

“Well, Iruka, I had some other news I wanted to tell you. Yamato is my best man, and since you’ve agreed to be one of my groomsmen as well, I’m sure that would give you the perfect opportunity to get closer to Yamato during the process of the wedding planning.”

“...Are you serious?” Iruka asks with a heavy blush. 

“Why would I joke about something as important as love?”

“Kakashi- it’s just a crush!” Iruka argues. 

“Fine, fine,” Kakashi straightens his back and offers a dismissive wave before heading for the door. When he gets to the doorway, he turns around and calls back to Iruka to say- “We’re going suit shopping next Friday. Meet us at my apartment at four!”

“Okay… See you then,” Iruka 

~

When Iruka arrives at the door of Kakashi’s apartment at four the following Friday, he’s surprised to find that the only one there is… Yamato. He climbs the stairs and catches sight of one pair of feet- and that’s it. The higher he gets up the stairs, the more he can make out. Up close, Yamato is bigger than Iruka thought he was; muscular and broad and strong despite his average height and a posture that makes him seem smaller than he really is. He’s wearing a simple outfit, just his head guard with the standard blue long sleeve undershirt and pants that come with Konoha’s Jonin uniform.

“Oh, hey,” Iruka greets once he reaches the top of the stairs where Kakashi’s apartment is. Yamato is leaning back against the door, cat-like eyes now trained on Iruka. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Hm? I thought it was just supposed to be the two of us,” Yamato says, standing up straight and crossing his arms over his chest. Iruka can’t help but notice the way the muscles shift and ripple underneath the thin fabric of the man’s thin shirt… They’re fucking huge. Briefly, he considers what those arms would feel like around his waist- what those big, strong hands would feel like pinning his wrists to a bed. But then, he gets a grasp on his dirty mind and manages to compose himself enough to act interested in what Yamato says next. “You’re Iruka, right?”

‘Oh… They set us up on purpose,’ Iruka thinks. ‘Those two…’

“Yes, I’m Iruka. It’s nice to meet you,” Iruka offers a hand, which Yamato takes. When they shake hands, Iruka can’t help but notice just how strong Yamato’s grip is. “I must’ve misunderstood Kakashi’s instructions. I thought we were all going to get fitted for suits today?”

“Yeah. Kakashi already picked the suits, Guy picked the colors, but I guess they’re busy today dealing with the floral arrangements so they wanted me to drop off the money and pick the suits up, then take them to the tailors’,” Yamato explains. His voice is deep, smooth, and calm, and Iruka wants to hear more of it. When Yamato looks him in the eye, he feels his face turning even more red than it already was.  “We have everyone’s measurements on hand except for yours.”

“Then why am I here? He could’ve just asked for my measurements when we talked the other day.”

“Kakashi let me know that you would be coming because he uh… Doesn’t fully trust me to handle the interaction with the clothing salesmen and the tailors- that and he needs you to give the tailors your measurements.”

“You were in Anbu before being appointed temporary captain of Team Kakashi, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Yamato answers with a nod. 

“Then, you must not have a lot of experience with the shopkeepers here. I totally understand why Kakashi asked me to come,” Iruka tries to be reassuring as he can. Yamato seems nervous, and though he’s good enough at interacting with Iruka, dealing with some of the more difficult salesmen in Konoha can be difficult- especially if you don’t have experience with them, and especially if it’s for a special occasion like a birthday, wedding, or holiday. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind helping.”

“Thank you. Do you know how to get there? Kakashi didn’t tell me where the shop was, just to meet everyone at his apartment and that we’d head there together.”

“Don’t worry, I know where it is. I’ll show you the way.”

With that, the two start to walk together, falling into a somewhat awkward silence… Or, awkward for Iruka. Yamato seems comfortable as he walks with his hands in his pockets and admires the birds that fly over them and the clouds in the sky. Meanwhile, Iruka’s heart is pounding 

“Yamato, have you made a lot of friends here since you were discharged from Anbu?” Iruka questions, desperate to start some sort of conversation instead of just walking in silence. He knows that there’s strict rules for members of Anbu- they aren’t allowed to have close family, they aren’t allowed to be seen in public without their full uniforms on, they aren’t allowed to travel freely, they have to live in designated Anbu-only apartment complexes, and they aren’t allowed to go on any outings that are deemed ‘unnecessary’. It’s a strict subsect of shinobi that doesn’t allow for much socialization. “I imagine that reintegrating must be somewhat difficult.”

“Hm? Friends…” Yamato hums. “Well, not really. I’ve really bonded with Team Kakashi as well as Guy, but I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had the chance to talk with too many others.”

“Then, why don’t we go get some food together after we’re done?” Iruka offers.

“Oh,” Yamato seemingly perks up at that as they arrive at the suit shop. “Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, only if you want to,” Iruka answers. “Do you like Ichiraku?”

“Yes.”

~

Admittedly, Yamato doesn’t have a ton of experience with romance, so when he starts to notice Iruka around the village, he doesn’t think much of it. The guy is interesting- a talented academy teacher who has so much optimism and love for the children he teaches despite all of the terrible things he’s sure to have heard and seen through his life as a shinobi. Of course, someone like Yamato would be fascinated, especially after hearing all of the amazing things Naruto has said about the man.

He does, however, start to think about it when he notices that the feelings are a little… Different. Admiration is something he’s familiar with thanks to his friendship with Kakashi, but when he sees Iruka, his heart beats harder against his chest, his face feels hot, and his head spins. Better yet, he thinks things that he knows are beyond inappropriate to think about someone who he doesn’t even talk to. 

When he mentions the new problem to Kakashi, venting about how his stomach feels funny when he sees the cute long-haired academy teacher, the older man laughs at him and tells him he’s ‘down bad’.

Whatever that means.

So, the first time he meets Iruka is a bit of a mind fuck. The man is far too nice and attractive. Surely, there’s something wrong with him, right? Guy is overenthusiastic and obnoxious in nature, Kakashi has attachment issues and PTSD that even the most qualified therapist wouldn’t be able to unpack, Naruto is stubborn and rash, Sai is socially unaware and rude to the point that it’s painful to watch, Sakura is violent and temperamental, and Yamato himself is most of those things combined, but what about Iruka?

Yamato has met Iruka and interacted with him on multiple occasions now. When they went to go get the suits for the wedding and get them tailored, the man was incredibly friendly, sociable, and tactful regardless of the fact that he’d apparently been led to believe he was supposed to meet Kakashi and the rest of the groomsmen at Kakashi’s apartment for the task rather than just Yamato. Hell, the man even indirectly offered to be his friend and took him for ramen.

At first, Yamato assumed it might’ve been out of pity, but now…

“How many tiers do you think we should do?” Iruka asks as the two of them sit at a table together in the local barbecue shop. The table grill to their left is piping hot. Rather than letting Yamato cook his own food, Iruka absentmindedly cooks both of their meat on the grill and divides it between the two plates. It makes Yamato slightly uncomfortable, as he’s not used to being taken care of like this, but he’s also too flattered to object. Iruka uses his spare hand to sketch a design for the wedding cake, which they’ve now (suspiciously enough) been put in charge of handling as well. “I’m not sure how many guests are even going to be there…”

“I think they said it would be close to seventy five, just considering all of their friends, coworkers, Kakashi’s dogs, and Guy’s turtle,” Yamato says. “But obviously, their summons won’t be able to eat the cake, and two of those spots are reserved for their fathers’ name plates since they can’t attend in person. So, the cake only needs to feed a little over sixty.”

“Alright, why don’t we have them make a square three tier cake? That’ll be enough so that they can feed all the guests and still have the top tier to take home, if I’m doing my math right,” Iruka mutters while sketching out a picture of the cake he has in mind with measurements on the side.

“Why would they want extra?” Yamato questions.

“Lots of people like to have cake to take home from their wedding,” Iruka counters, as if it’s obvious, and maybe it is- but Yamato has never been to let alone planned a wedding before this. “Like, as a souvenir. Sometimes they freeze it and eat it on special anniversaries.”

Yamato raises an eyebrow.

“Isn’t that a little gross? I couldn’t imagine wanting to eat frozen cake,” He shudders.

“Me neither,” Iruka agrees. “But it’s surprisingly common, and I want to be considerate of them. I know Kakashi isn’t the type to want to save the cake, but Guy definitely is.”

“You think he’ll even eat it?” Yamato inquires between bites of food. “You know how strict he is about his diet.”

“I think he’d make an exception for such a special day, but you make a fair argument. Maybe we should have a sugar free tier?”

“On their wedding day? That’s a little insulting.”

“Hey! It was just an idea,” Iruka huffs, then pauses to grab a napkin. Without saying anything, he leans forward and wipes the corner of Yamato’s lip.

“Uh-”

“Oh, sorry!” Iruka apologizes. “You just- you had some sauce on your mouth, and I’m so used to doing it with the kids, and um-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yamato laughs. “It’s fine, thank you. I’m just a little embarrassed.”

Iruka smiles back at Yamato and settles back into his chair.

Yamato has realized that Iruka really is just a kind, thoughtful person. Maybe he has a bit of a temper, but it’s nothing compared to Sakura or Lady Tsunade, so Yamato doesn’t bat an eye at it- even after Iruka chewed out the old man at the balloon shop who refused to put a balloon arch together for a ‘gay wedding’.

“I can take the design up to the cake shop, if you wanna go ahead and head home. I’m sure you’re busy,” Iruka offers.

“Sure. I’ll see you later, then.”

Yamato stands up, places money on the table to cover both of their tabs, and heads for Kakashi’s apartment.

When he arrives and knocks on the door, he’s unsurprised at the fact that Guy is the one who answers. Thankfully, the man is at least fully dressed.

“Yamato! Come in, come in,” Guy greets, rushing inside. Yamato follows after him and shuts the door. “Kakashi is in the kitchen!”

Guy disappears to who knows where, while Yamato walks into the kitchen to see Kakashi cooking his eight dogs their lunch. The pups all lay in a circle around the Jonin’s feet. 

“Oh, Yamato,” Kakashi casually greets without even looking back at him. He stands at the stove and stirs the meat and vegetables he’s cooking. “What brings you here.”

“What are you two plotting?” Yamato demands. 

“Hm? What ever do you mean?” Kakashi sarcastically hums and avoids Yamato’s eyes, because of course, the little shit knows exactly what Yamato means.

“You’ve sent me out with Iruka on multiple occasions now, and you’ve put us in charge of planning both of your bachelor parties even though Genma is Guy’s best man!”

“What about it? Genma has an important mission right around the time that the party takes place,” Kakashi shrugs. “I can’t realistically expect him to plan it with how busy he’s been, so we’re having Iruka fill in.”

“But Iruka is your groomsman! Shouldn’t you have one of Guy’s do it? I’m sure Ebisu would be great with this sort of thing!”

“Does it really matter?” Kakashi turns the stove off and divides the food in the pan onto eight plates, which he sets in a row on the floor. The dogs rush to eat as Kakashi continues to talk, now leaning back against the counter and putting his hands in the pockets of his- no, Guy’s- sweatpants. “And honestly, I think I’d rather have Ebisu plan my funeral than my wedding. Have you ever met that guy?”

“It wouldn’t matter if I didn’t know you were up to something,” Yamato grumbles. “So, what is it? Are you trying to set Iruka and I up just because you know about my feelings for him?”

“Honestly?” Kakashi starts, placing a warm hand on Yamato’s shoulder. Yamato blinks, taken aback by the affectionate gesture. “Yamato, I admire you greatly. You’re one of the few in the village who I truly consider to be my equal.”

“You… Really mean that?”

“Of course- and, as someone who admires you, I want you to be happy,” Kakashi explains, smiling under his mask. “So, I’m doing this to try to help you make a new friend. Friends are important, after all, right?”

“Right,” Yamato nods. “Thank you, Senpai.”

“Of course, Yamato.”

“I should be on my way, then.”

With that, Yamato leaves, placated- for now.

~

Once Yamato is out the door, Guy reappears in the kitchen and looks at Kakashi with a raised brow.

“Did he seriously buy that? Kakashi, my dearest rival, I never knew you had such a silver tongue!”

“Well,” Kakashi pauses, a gleam in his eye. “My tongue can do a lot that’d surprise you.”

“Is that so? We don’t have dinner with Anko and Ibiki for another few hours. Why don’t you show me?”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d say that.”

~

Days later, Yamato sits on the couch at Iruka’s apartment, shoulders stiff as he sits with a notepad in hand. Iruka is to his left, far too close for his comfort.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, everything regarding this situation is uncomfortable. For starters, he’s in Iruka’s apartment. That may not seem like much to the average person, but Yamato is uncomfortable with the idea of intimacy, and someone else’s home is the most intimate part of them. Really, it’s like staring into their soul, and Iruka’s apartment is an amazing representation of him; terribly drawn pictures children have made for him strung about the walls, water rings from cups of tea and coffee on Iruka’s coffee table, ungraded papers sitting in tall stacks all around the house, a big sweater that smells like cologne thrown over the back of the couch, the bowl of dog food left on the porch for the nearby strays. 

The apartment is terribly, terribly Iruka, lit warmly and reeking of chamomile and vanilla in a way that makes Yamato’s face burn red and his stomach flip when he breathes too deeply.

And Iruka is still far, far too close. They’re at his home, and this is so casual, and his beautiful chocolate-hued hair is let down to cascade over his shoulders and frame his beautiful face.

Yamato doesn’t think he’s been so smitten in his life. And Iruka is just sitting there, casually, his world not turned upside down by Yamato’s mere presence.

“So, bachelor parties…” Yamato starts, clearing his throat. The sooner he gets this over with, the better. “You have any experience with this?”

“Uh, I’ve been to a couple, but I’ve been friends with Kakashi for a few years, and…” Iruka pauses, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Well…”

“What is it?”

“I don’t think he’s going to want the typical bachelor party.”

“What does the typical bachelor party consist of?”

“Strippers, drinking, drugs,” Iruka answers with a strangled sort of laugh. “The works.”

“I see… Yes, you’re right, then. That doesn’t seem like something Kakashi or Guy would enjoy,” Yamato leans forward, resting his elbows on the coffee table in front of him. Iruka’s knee brushes against his, and it takes everything in him not to jump. Iruka doesn’t move away or even apologize. Did he not notice? Does he not care? Or did he want them to touch? “It’s a joint party, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Did they discuss who’s covering the cost?”

“I am,” Yamato answers. “It’s my wedding gift to them.”

“Oh, wow. We should budget carefully, then.”

“Don’t worry about it. Anbu paid me enough that I can afford it.”

“Alright, then. Do you have any ideas?”

“There’s a hot spring between here and Kusa that does bridal showers and whatnot. They offer full suites with beautiful rooms and a great view, incredible catering, and full spa days,” Yamato thinks back on when he took Team Kakashi there on their first mission together and smiles. “It’ll be on the pricier side, but I should be able to afford it if you wouldn’t mind making the reservations for us.”

“How many people? Let’s see…” Iruka pauses and starts to list the groomsmen on both sides as he counts with his fingers. “Kakashi, Guy, me, you, Anko, Ibiki, Ebisu, Naruto, Sakura, Tenten, Lee, Kurenai… And Genma should be on a mission around that time.”

“Yes, but reserve a spot for him just in case he’s able to make it,” Yamato responds and scribbles everything down on the notepad in front of him with a pencil so that they won’t forget any of the important details. “Also look into getting a portable bassinet in Kurenai’s room in case she needs to bring Mirai along with her, and make sure that Kakashi and Guy get the king suite.”

“Alright, sounds good,” Iruka gently takes the notepad and pencil from Yamato’s hands. Their fingers brush, but again, neither of them say anything. “Anything else?”

“Do you think you could pick up some decorations?” Yamato asks.

“No problem. What are you thinking?”

“Something bright and obnoxious that Guy would like. Lots of green and orange,” At that, Iruka gives Yamato an incredulous look. “What? Kakashi won’t care. He just wants whatever will make Guy happy.”

“That does explain why they’re going with dark green and egg shell white for wedding colors and bright red flowers instead of… Oh, I don’t know what Kakashi would like,” Iruka chuckles. “Something not so Christmas-y smack dab in the middle of spring.”

“Let’s be honest, Iruka, if Kakashi had full control of the wedding, it would be grey on grey with no flowers whatsoever. Hell, they’d probably get married in a shack or something.”

“Ha!” Iruka laughs even harder, his face darkening and tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Yamato, you’re funny.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s just-” Yamato cuts himself off, struggling to respond to the compliment. “Well, no one’s ever called me that before.”

“Well, I think you’re hilarious.”

“I can come with you to make the reservations at the hot spring… If you want.”

“Sure. Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

~

Iruka thinks he might actually be going insane. As the wedding draws closer, his crush on Yamato gets progressively worse. They keep getting shoved together to plan the wedding and all of the traditional nonsense that weddings come with, so the amount of time they spend together keeps increasing.

Iruka is sure it’s on purpose. It must be on purpose, right? Some sort of sick plot Kakashi came up with to screw with him. Or, maybe the Jonin is actually trying to help, but really, it’s just screwing with him- because Yamato is impossible to read. Does he even like men? Does he even like anyone in general? Iruka has no idea. 

So, he’s frustrated as he hangs up the gaudy green streamers and orange paper flowers in the party suite of the hot springs they rented out for the bachelor party. It’s supposed to start in less than an hour and he’s working so slow that he’s still not ready. Meanwhile, Yamato is off coordinating with the staff to make sure that they’re making the food and have the rooms set up- and since Iruka went and forgot it in the midst of everything else, the poor wood style user had to figure out how to build a safe-sleep crib with his jutsu for Mirai last minute. 

Finally, Yamato pops his head into the room and approaches Iruka where he stands on the top step of the stool he’s been using to reach the walls.

“Okay, the decorations look pretty good, but can you come help me with this one?” Iruka asks.

“Sure, what do you need?”

Yamato, the fucking fiend he is, doesn’t wait for Iruka to get down from the steps. Instead, he climbs up to the step just behind Iruka, gently plucks the paper flower from Iruka’s hand, and reaches above the teacher to hang it up. 

“I pulled a muscle chasing after one of my kids earlier, so I’m having trouble reaching up high enough to tack this final flower up. Your arms are a little longer than mine,” Iruka explains. “Mind finishing it for me?”

“No problem,” Yamato’s front is pressed against Iruka’s back because of the position they’re in as he tacks the flower up to the wall. And fuck- his voice is way too close to Iruka’s ear, his dick is way too close to Iruka’s ass, and Iruka is struggling not to pop a fucking boner in the middle of Kakashi and Guy’s party. “All done.”

Not realizing just how close Yamato’s face is, Iruka turns around to thank him, only for their lips to brush against one another. It’s so brief that he doesn’t even get to enjoy it before he gasps and rushes to apologize.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, I-”

“It’s, um,” Yamato puts his hands on Iruka’s waist to steady him, as the man is so shocked that he nearly falls down the steps. The firm, strong, warm grasp only makes Iruka’s situation worse- and he finds that he is so incredibly grateful that Yamato’s gaze stays on his face, rather than traveling down. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Accidents happen, right?”

“Haha… Right… Should we let everyone know that the party room is ready, then?”

“Yes,” Yamato answers and steps down to the floor, gently guiding Iruka down as well. “You stay here, I’ll go tell the staff that they can bring in dinner and let everyone come in.”

Predictably, the moment Yamato leaves, Iruka rushes into the bathroom.

Hopefully some cold water can fix his situation before everyone starts wondering where the hell he went…

~

The bachelor party goes better than Iruka could’ve ever predicted- probably because he avoids Yamato to prevent any further ‘situations’ and sticks to chatting with Anko for most of it. Once everyone goes to their rooms, Iruka cleans up the party suite and glances at the clock to see that it’s already past midnight. Thankfully, he’s not there alone, as Anko offered to stay and help since Yamato was busy getting the food cleaned up and making sure everyone got to their rooms safely. 

“So, is it just me or was that guy giving you fuck-me eyes all night?”

“What!? Anko, watch your language,” Iruka scolds and heads for the door, hoping to avoid whatever this is going to turn into, but Anko follows close behind with a smirk on her face.

“Oh, come on, you know it’s true! And you were looking at him, too, weren’t you?” She asks as the two approach his room. “Don’t tell me you two hooked up?”

“No, no! It’s… Nothing like that,” Iruka groans. “I just- I maybe, sort of, kind of want to… But I don’t think he’s interested!”

“Really? Because he was staring at you like he wanted to rip your clothes off.”

“You’re just messing with me. Seriously, Anko, don’t tease me like that,” Iruka grumbles as he unlocks the door to his room. “It’s messed up.”

“I’m being serious! Even Ebisu noticed it!”

“Wait,” Iruka pauses, turning back to look at Anko. He doesn’t see any hints of deception in her expression. On top of that, Ebisu is pretty dense when it comes to things like sex and romance, despite the books he reads, so for him to notice must mean it’s true- and very, very obvious. “Ebisu did?”

“Yes!”

“And you’re not lying?”

“No! Why would I set you up to go try to make a move on this guy and get rejected?” Anko asks, and honestly, it’s a fair question. “Seriously, I think he likes you! You should talk to him!”

“Fine, but I’m going to bed, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, Iruka goes into his room and shuts the door behind him, but he can’t help noting just how lonely it feels…

Does Yamato really like him, too? Does he have a crush, or is it something more? Would he even be interested in sex? Or would he want to go on a date first? Iruka’s mind races. Both he and Yamato had a couple drinks, so admittedly, his judgment probably isn’t the best, and whatever Ebisu and Anko saw might’ve just been Yamato being a little buzzed… At the same time, though, he’d like to believe it.

Iruka knows he won’t be able to sleep like this, so he decides he may as well take advantage of the hot springs. He normally wouldn’t be comfortable with going, but since it’s so late, he knows no one will be there. He grabs a robe and a cushy towel from the bathroom in his private suite, then makes his way to the men’s hot springs.

When he slides the door open, he’s surprised to find that there is someone there.

Much to his excitement (and also horror), it’s Yamato. He briefly wonders if he could get away with turning around and leaving, but Yamato hears the door open and turns to greet Iruka, who suddenly feels small- ugly- and embarrassed with a tiny towel wrapped around his waist.

“Hey, Iruka,” Yamato smiles. He looks much different without his head guard. “Water’s pretty nice. Come on in.”

Iruka offers a stiff smile and a nod. He can’t help but think about the accidental sort-of kiss they shared in the party suite as he carefully steps into the water and takes a seat. He’s near Yamato, but still a couple of feet away… Close enough that Yamato won’t be able to tell that something is wrong, but not close enough that it’s weird.

While Yamato stares up at the night sky, Iruka stares at Yamato. The man is broad and built, the muscles in his arms tensing as he allows them to rest on the rocks behind his body. His chest is wide and toned, but soft looking, too, even with the many scars that map across it. Beads of water- or maybe sweat- drip from the ends of Yamato’s hair onto him, rolling down his pale and dewy skin, and despite how wet it is with the steam in the air and the hot water surrounding his body, Iruka’s mouth becomes dry.

Maybe it’s the beer speaking, or maybe Anko’s words got to him more than they should’ve. Iruka decides that he should say something. After all, what’s the worst that could happen? He’ll face an awkward rejection, go to the wedding, and avoid Yamato for the rest of his life. There are worse things that could happen… Right?

“Hey, Yamato, can I tell you something?”

“Sure,” Yamato says, glancing over at Iruka. “What is it?”

“I’m pretty sure Kakashi only had us do all of this wedding stuff together because I told him I had a little bit of a crush on you,” Iruka admits with a nervous laugh.

Yamato blinks in surprise. Iruka can’t tell if the look of pure shock on Yamato’s face is good or bad.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Iruka whispers, twiddling his thumbs. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Yamato smiles and, much to Iruka’s surprise, moves to sit closer to him and reaches over to hold his hand. “I think I have a bit of a crush on you, too, Iruka.”

“Really? You don’t have to say that, if you don’t mean it.”

“Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it? In fact,” Yamato continues while giving Iruka’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’d like to ask you to accompany me to the wedding, not as another groomsman, but as my date.”

“I would love that.”

The two men sit together in comfortable silence. Iruka isn’t sure for how long, however- a minute with Yamato simultaneously feels like a second and an hour.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” Yamato says, breaking the quiet night air with his deep voice.

“It was a great party,” Iruka smiles and rests his head on Yamato’s shoulder. “I’m glad it turned out so well.”

“We did a good job. You want me to walk to your room?”

“Actually… Why don’t we go back to yours together?”

Yamato’s eyes go wide at the same time that his otherwise pale cheeks turn dark pink. 

“I-” Yamato gulps, then offers an enthusiastic nod. “Yes. Let’s go.”

~

A week passes. Though nothing else is said about what happened at the hot springs, their friendship remains steady, and it’s not too awkward. Iruka is thankful for that. They attend the wedding together- as each other’s dates- but Iruka still can’t help how nervous he is following the beautiful ceremony about what’s to come for them. 

As they help finishing the clean up, with most of the guests slowly tapering out, Iruka quietly asks-

“So, are we still gonna talk after this?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“I don’t know. I mean, isn’t it normal for two people to sleep together and then never talk again?” Iruka frowns. “Since the wedding is over… If we’re not planning it together anymore-”

“Iruka, I really like you,” Yamato interjects with a stern look. He throws some trash away and walks up to Iruka, to stand right in front of him. “Do you like me?”

“Of course I like you,” Iruka answers. He furrows his brow and tosses his hands up in frustration, only to then run them through his gelled hair. “Why would I have done all this if I didn’t like you? Sleeping with you- and then going to the wedding with you like this, too?”

“Then, if I like you, and you like me… Why shouldn’t we keep talking after this?”

“I want to,” Iruka sighs, avoiding Yamato’s intense gaze. “I just didn’t know if you’d want to.”

“Of course I would,” Yamato leans in closer, practically forcing Iruka to meet his eyes. Iruka blinks, then swallows the nervous lump that’s been building in his throat. “I’m not used to doing this sort of thing still, so I’m sorry if I haven’t communicated well, but… I’ll stay with you as long as you let me. Now, why don’t we go back to yours?”

At that, Iruka grins, grabs Yamato by the hand, and starts in the direction of his apartment. 

~

Meanwhile…

“So, Guy, are you happy?” Kakashi asks as the two men haul all the gifts and flowers to the back of the horse carriage that  Naruto was gracious enough to rent for them with the surprising amount of money he had in his froggy wallet.

“Hm? Of course I am! It was a beautiful ceremony, so full of youth,” Guy answers with a grin, carrying so many of the heavy presents that Kakashi knows he’s going to be sore tomorrow- even if he denies it. 

“How mad do you think they’d be if we told them we went and got legally married years ago without a ceremony?”

“Probably pretty mad, since that means they’d know this was our plan all along, just to get them to finally spend some time together,” Guy laughs. “But we were overdue for a celebration of our love!”

“You would think that,” Kakashi chuckles. “But does true love really need to be celebrated in such a grandiose way?”

“If it’s ours, most certainly! You deserve it, my dearest rival.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Kakashi reaches over to grab Guy’s hand and hold it within his own. “Did you see them leave together? Iruka seemed pretty excited to get him home, if you know what I mean.”

“Mhm!” Guy nods, enthusiastic as ever. “Seems like they really bonded during the wedding planning, just like you knew they would!”

“How many years do you think it’ll take them to get married?”

“I’ll bet on three!” Guy answers while holding up three fingers on his spare hand. “They both seem like they’d rather take their time.”

“I’ll bet you the rest of the wedding cake that it’ll be less than that.”

“Oh, you’re so on!”

#kakaguy #kakagai #iruyama #yamairu #kakashi hatake #might guy #might gai #maito gai #yamato #yamato tenzo #iruka umino #anko mitarashi #fanfiction #oneshot #oneshots #naruto #naruto shippuden

[sentinelpri]

new gaara/reader slowburn fic up (: got a few chapters published, pls read if you can! <3

Holding Hands - sentpri - Naruto (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfiction #gaara x reader #kazekage gaara #sabaku no gaara #gaara of the sand #gaara of the desert #gaara #multichapter #ao3 #naruto uzumaki #kankuro #temari #canon compliant

[sentinelpri]

agree with this. Gave birth in December 2023 and being induced to give birth sucks! Medical staff also don’t treat you well 90% of the time and I had the privilege of dealing with some nasty nurses while I was pregnant.

Also have permanent back damage that’s so bad that some evenings after I get home from work I struggle to put weight on my left side :D

the thing is like. i get that it's scary and makes people who do desire to get pregnant uncomfortable when we talk about the brutality and violence of pregnancy and the damage that pregnancy can do to your body

but you deserve to give informed consent to that process.

the lies around pregnancy - that it's inherently safe, that it doesn't do you permanent damage, that it's only extremely rare for people to die of pregnancy complications, etc like

all of these are lies constructed so that more people will get pregnant w/o knowing all that

there needs to be more talk about the impact of miscarriages and how common they are, how different abortion processes are and how accessible they are

but also like. talking about how pregnancy fucks your body up should not be taboo

this is a process that permanently changes most people's bodies, and that's even if the pregnancy doesn't do them like. severe illness or injury

and i just think everybody should have a right to KNOW that

bc to live in a society that intentionally obscures and hides facts about a completely optional and dangerous process does so for a reason, and that reason is based in a very sinister ideology that does not value bodily autonomy or informed consent

#tw birth #tw birth trauma #tw medical

[sentinelpri]

Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats  🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?  🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love 🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that? 🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis 🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help? 🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love 💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?  🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis 🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?  🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before 🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time?  🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings 🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual? 🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now 📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?  🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character 🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project? 🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on ❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best? 🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity 🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh  🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work? 🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate 🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told? 🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately  🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?  🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing 🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises? 🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here ☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username? 🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them 🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them 🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it 🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

[sentinelpri]

Ben 10 Oneshots Masterlist

Hello, everyone! This is the masterlist for all of my Ben 10 oneshots. If you’re interested in seeing my other works or making a commission, check out my pinned post.

Enjoy! <3

Character x Character:

Too Good To Say (Ben Tennyson x Rook Blonko)

#drabble #drabbles #oneshot #oneshots #fanfiction #ben ten #ben 10 #rook blonko #ben 10 omniverse #ben 10 series #ben tennyson #ben 10 alien force #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 classic #benrook #omniboyfriends

[sentinelpri]

Too Good To Say

Raindrops smack against the glass of the window as Rook Blonko lies in bed, amber eyes trained on none other than Ben Tennyson. The other plumber sits on the edge of the bed watching the new live action adaptation of Sumo Slammers. Normally, Ben would be ranting about how different it is than the original cartoon, but today is not a normal day. In fact, it doesn’t seem as if Ben is paying attention to the show at all, just blankly staring at the television but not really consuming the media in front of him. 

Meanwhile, Rook just watches Ben, a soft smile gracing his lips. They got into a terrible skirmish with Khyber earlier that morning and lost him, but not before the accomplished hunter managed to stab one of his many blades through Rook’s shoulder. Thankfully, he’s bandaged up and recovering well, but he would be stupid not to realize how upset Ben is that they’ve let Khyber escape yet again. Rook is frustrated that Khyber got away, though more than anything, he’s glad that Ben made it out unscathed- that they’re both okay.

Rook sighs. The movement of Ben’s shoulder blades against the back of his jacket, the steady rise and fall of his back as he breathes, the way he slightly ruffles his own hair to calm himself down, it’s all reassuring in a way that Rook never thought it would be when the two of them first became partners. 

Rook thought he was in love when he met Rayona, because she loved him. She was kinder than his parents, and she was stronger than his friends. The attention she gave him, the admiration he felt for her, it all mixed into a disjointed infatuation that he had foolishly assumed was love. The validation she provided was exciting. The love she had for him was the only love he knew.

But Ben, Ben is different. Ben is interesting and self-centered and altruistic; a cacophony of contradicting qualities that make Rook’s heart flutter with excitement whenever they’re together. The feelings he has for Ben are more than the intense infatuation he’d become accustomed to on Revonnah, because Ben isn’t perfect and doesn’t present himself as such. He’s strong in many ways and weak in others. He’s kind and caring, but inconsiderate and selfish. He’s authentically himself. He doesn’t care about how others perceive him. He’s beautiful, yet so incredibly frustrating, too. He’s nothing like the cool, collected, muscular, bold hero he’s presented as in all of the rip-off television shows, badly drawn posters, and dramatized stories. And Rook still loves him despite all of it, because the good qualities outweigh the bad ones, even when Ben is at his worst. 

Suddenly, Ben snaps out of his trance and breaks his eyes from Sumo Slammers. He scoots to sit next to Rook on the bed, staring down at him with his jade eyes. Rook averts his gaze, heart thumping against his chest.

“How’re you holding up, buddy?” Ben asks and places a hand on Rook’s arm. Rook can never tell if the touches are romantic or not, but he always accepts them without question. He craves them, even; desperately wants the heat of them to burn the fur off of his skin and leave a scar in its wake- for it to stay there forever, in one way or another. Ben’s fingers brush through his fur. Rook isn’t prone to leaving it uncovered, mostly wearing a full suit of armor with gloves and boots to keep himself safe. Following his injury, however, Ben insisted he shower and change into clean clothes after having his stab wound tended to, so now he’s in a tank-top and sweatpants that are a little too short for his long body. His worn clothes sit abandoned in a pile by Ben’s bedroom door. “Rook?”

“Oh,” Rook starts. Ben’s hand lingers a little too long, trailing up his arm before Ben finally pulls it away, careful to avoid touching anywhere near Rook’s wrapped injury. “I am fine, thank you for asking.”

“I’m going after Khyber.”

Rook tilts his head to the side, baffled. He knows Ben is serious based on the tone of his voice. Still… Khyber is dangerous and Ben has been cornered by the huntsman multiple times now. Ben going by himself wouldn’t just be risky, it’d be stupid. 

“You… I am sorry? I must have misheard you.”

“No, you didn’t. I’m going after him tonight. Grandpa managed to get a tracker on his car and-”

“Ben, you can not go by yourself,” Rook interjects, furrowing his brow.

“Yes, I can. I have to- or we’re not going to be able to catch him! I won’t let him get away again.”

“Catching Khyber is not worth you getting seriously injured, or worse, killed.”

“Well, no matter what you think, you’re not in any condition to stop me,” Ben argues as he stands from the bed.

Rook gulps and reaches forward to grab Ben’s hand. It’s cool to the touch and calloused from all the fighting they do. Ben turns to look back at him with wide eyes. Rook drops his hand and stares down into his own lap.

“You are going to go even if I ask you not to?”

“Well, yeah,” Ben answers as if it’s obvious, as if Rook’s concern for him doesn’t matter at all.

“You…” Rook starts with anger bubbling up in his chest.

It’s an odd feeling, one that he hadn’t felt much before meeting Ben. There’s just something about the brunette that’s so incredibly frustrating. Maybe it’s his blatant disregard for others, or maybe it’s the way he so recklessly throws himself in danger’s way without any consideration for his own safety. 

“What? Got something to say?”

Rook hesitates, unsure of how to answer at first. Ben just stands there glaring at him with his arms crossed. 

“Yes, actually,” Rook responds after a few seconds. He stands up from the bed and goes to pick up his pile of old clothing and shattered armor. “Your self-absorbed nature is going to get you killed. When will you stop to consider the consequences your actions have on others?”

“Consequences? Nothing I do affects you, and neither will this!”

“And how did you come to that conclusion, exactly?” Rook demands while pulling his boots onto his feet and tucking his clothes underneath one arm. 

“It’s obvious! You don’t care about me in all of this- you’ve never cared,” Ben spits. His words couldn’t be farther from the truth. Then again, Rook would argue that Ben is even more emotionally oblivious than himself, which is quite the accomplishment. That would be the only explanation for how he hasn’t figured out Rook’s feelings by now when even Kevin, Gwen, and Argit have made jokes about the situation in front of both of them. “What you care about is following the rules and- and controlling me!”

“Controlling you? Are you serious?” Rook scoffs, standing in front of Ben’s bedroom door. Both of his parents are gone on a vacation with Ma Vreedle of all people, so Rook can’t even try to get them to convince Ben to stay. “I do not think there is anyone in this universe let alone on this planet who is capable of controlling the likes of you, Ben.”

“Whatever,” Ben huffs and heads for the door, only for Rook to block his way.

“You can not do this. I will stop you if I have to.”

“Why? Why are you acting like you care about me all of a sudden?” Ben rants, getting closer and closer until his face is mere inches from Rook’s chest. “Worst case scenario, I go do this, and I get hurt, or even die. We’re partners- friends, maybe- but it’s nothing more than that! You’ll get over it, get another partner that’s probably a lot easier to deal with, and you’ll be fine. So, why does it matter what I do? Why do you care?”

“I will not ‘be fine’ if you die, I-” Rook raises his voice, and then stops. He can feel heat rising to his cheeks and he’s suddenly incredibly grateful that they’re covered by fur so he doesn’t have an obvious blush like Ben often does- like Ben does right now. “I...”

“You what?”

“Unlike you, I do not think I am too good to say to you how I feel,” Rook closes his eyes. He’s too scared to see what Ben’s face will look like after hearing what he’s about to say. “I will be shattered if something happens to you, because I love you, and just so there is no confusion… What I mean by that, is that I am in love with you.”

“You-” Ben stumbles over his words, an awkwardly choked noise coming from the back of his throat.

“But you are clearly not reciprocating my feelings, and that is fine,” Rook continues as he reaches behind him and opens the bedroom door.

“But-”

“I never could have expected you to love me. You’re you, after all; Ben Tennyson, the hero who has saved the universe a thousand times, and I am just your partner who you refuse to respect and refuse to listen to- who you never even desired in the first place. I would be a fool to expect more than what you are willing to give, I am aware of that. I have never assumed you would fall in love with me at any point,” Rook says, glancing at Ben over his shoulder. The brunette’s cheeks are bright pink and his pupils are blown wide as he stares at Rook. Rook can’t quite discern the face Ben is making; maybe it’s confused, maybe it’s angry. He himself is too frustrated to figure it out. “But I did make the mistake of assuming you would, at the very least, respect me and value my opinion.”

“Rook, would you just-“

“No, I see how it is now,” Rook interjects, shaking his head. “I can leave you alone, if that is really what you want… Just call me when you need to be rescued like you always do.”

Rook turns to leave, only for Ben to reach out and clasp a hand around his wrist. Rook freezes at the touch- it’s cool yet firm and he wants to stand there and let Ben hold his wrist forever, but he’s so angry that he just can’t. So, he snatches his wrist from Ben’s grasp and stomps out of the Tennyson household. 

As the steps of Rook’s steel-toed boots thump onto the carpeted floor, he can’t help how disappointed he is that Ben doesn’t chase after him.

~

By the time Rook arrives at the plumbers’ headquarters in his truck, his fur is wet with tears and his amber eyes are puffy from crying. He scans his badge to get inside and heads to where he knows Ben’s grandfather, Magister Max Tennyson, will be manning the monitors. 

“Magister Tennyson, sir,” Rook greets with a salute, to which Max turns around from where he’s sitting in front of the many screens.

“Rook, what’s going on?” Max greets, a big grin on his face. He seems excited to see Rook again following their confrontation with Khyber- at least until he sees Rook’s expression. The Magister stands from his chair and crosses his arms as disappointment washes over him. “Oh, no, what’d he do this time?”

“I assume you are referring to Ben?” Rook questions with an awkward laugh.

“When am I not these days?” Max sighs, shaking his head and adjusting the collar of his floral shirt.

“He is going to go after Khyber by himself. He told me that he refuses to let me come with him since I am still recovering from my earlier injury, and he insisted on going alone. I believe he will be angry if he finds out that I have gone behind his back to inform you of this, but I am quite concerned about his well being.”

“That idiot. I put that tracker on Khyber’s getaway car so we could find him together at a later date, not so Ben could go on a wild goose chase all by himself,” Max groans and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger. “Hold on, I’ll track him using his badge so I can send him some back up.”

Max turns back to the computers and types in Ben’s plumber identification number so he can pinpoint the location of his badge. Rook wouldn’t usually be so bold, but his concern for Ben overtakes him as he curiously peeks at the computer and then at Max’s face. Max appears to be baffled, his lips pulled tight and the rest of his face scrunched.

“What is it?”

“The badge… The coordinates are still at his parents’ house. Did he say when he was going to leave?”

“No. Him and I got into an argument over this while still at his house and I left, but he declared he was going to leave to go after Khyber then and there, which is what started the argument in the first place. I assumed he left shortly after I did, but if his plumber badge is still there…”

“I’m going to go and check if he’s actually still there or if he’s just trying to pull one over on us by leaving his badge at home,” Max explains, then stands up and places a reassuring hand on Rook’s shoulder. “You should head home and rest up. I’ll let you know what I find, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Max walks past him and to the exit of the monitoring room, only to turn and look back at Rook to speak to him one last time before leaving.

“Hey, now, don’t worry yourself to death. You’ve already got a lot on your plate as, and you know how Ben is. He’ll be fine- he always is.”

“Right… I will head home, then,” Rook nods. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

With that, Max leaves. Rook immediately notices that the rest of the plumbers in the room are staring at him with curiosity in their prying eyes. He wonders if he’s really that obvious… If it’s so easy for them to tell that his concern for Ben goes beyond one plumber caring for his partner’s safety. If they can all tell that he’s in love. 

Embarrassed, he storms out of the base before anyone can ask him about it and gets into his truck so he can drive back home. 

Weirdly enough, as he drives down the streets of Bellwood, he can’t help but notice that his heart hurts far more than the healing wound on his shoulder.

~

That night, Rook finds himself unable to sleep as he sits in the windowsill of his living room, staring out the window. The apartment he started renting a month or so back is small and a little crowded, but most of the time, he doesn’t mind it as it’s significantly larger than the dorm rooms that they had on the plumbers’ base. 

A knock rings through the room. At first, Rook assumes it must be one of his neighbors’ doors, but then there’s a second knock, and then a third. The knocks quickly form a rhythm that Rook recognizes as Ben’s, so he rushes to let his partner inside. When he opens the door, he’s faced with Ben, who is slightly hunched over. He has a black eye, bloody nose, and a busted lip.

“Ben!” Rook exclaims, amber eyes widening in horror. All of the anger, the frustration, and every other terrible thing Ben had him feeling earlier morphs into pure worry and fear. “What happened to you?”

“Rook-“

“You are badly hurt,” Rook scolds and grabs Ben’s hand without thinking. He intertwines their fingers and while he would normally never do something so bold, he can’t stop to think about the implications of hand-holding with a human amidst his many conflicting emotions. He practically drags Ben inside, shuts the front door behind them, and pushes Ben down onto his living room couch. “You should have called me before it got to this point. I do not know if you are aware, but I was waiting by my cell phone and had my badge on hand the entire time you were gone so you could contact me!”

“You were mad at me! You really expected me to call you in the middle of the night to come save my ass after the argument we got into this morning?” 

“I am still upset, but that does not mean I want you to be hurt,” Rook kneels in front of the couch where Ben is sitting, holds both of his hands in his own, and glances up at him.  “Why did you not go to your mother and father? They were supposed to return from their vacation this evening, correct? Or why not your grandfather at the plumbers’ headquarters? He went off to look for you.”

“They don’t understand,” Ben looks away and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re the only one. You always have been… You’re just easier to talk to. No one else gets me like you do.” 

And Rook pauses, because for the first time since leaving his home planet to become a plumber, he’s being chosen first. He swallows tightly and allows his mind to race. Part of him entertains the idea that Ben may actually reciprocate his feelings, but at the same time… it seems like such a reach that he doesn’t dare to ask. If Ben doesn’t feel the same way, he’d rather they just forget about it and pretend as if nothing happened between them in the first place.

“Hm… So, how did everything unfold?”

“I lost him… We beat the shit out of each other but I had the upper hand. He realized that he wasn’t going to win and made an escape, and I was too messed up to catch him,” Ben explains while running a hand through his hair to push the fluffy brown locks away from his bruised, bloody face. “I barely even made it here to you.”

“I see.”

Rook lets go of Ben’s hands and goes to retrieve a damp washcloth, an ice pack, some bandaids, and a bottle of the water. When he returns, he opens the bottle of water and pushes it into one of Ben’s hands, then sits down next to the other plumber and starts to gently wipe the blood off of his face with the washcloth.

“Not going to lecture me about how I was wrong?” Ben indignantly demands. “No ‘I told you so’?”

“No. You already know you were in the wrong when you went after him. You do not need to be informed of that fact.”

“That somehow made me feel even worse.”

The two plumbers fall silent as Ben chugs the bottle of water he was given by Rook. The crinkle of the plastic bottle echoes through the small room. Rook thoroughly cleans and bandages Ben’s injuries, and though they look gruesome, they prove to be quite minor compared to so many of the other ones Ben has acquired with the work they do. Once he’s finished, he tries to push the ice pack into Ben’s spare hand, only for Ben to put it to the side and reach forward. He holds both of Rook’s hands in his own and stares into his amber eyes.

“What is this?” Rook questions, moving to sit next to Ben on the couch.

“I’m sorry. I do respect you, and I should listen to you more. I do value your opinion, I just…”

“You are stubborn. I understand,” Rook says with a small smile. “It is something I love about you, most of the time. I admire your tenacity. In situations like this, however…”

“I know, and about that… Y’know, it’s pretty messed up to confess your love like that and then leave without letting me respond.”

At that, a lump forms in Rook’s throat. He’s barely able to swallow it in time to reply to Ben, who is staring at him expectantly with an undeniable blush on his face. 

“I see. Would you… Like to respond now?”

“Yeah, I think I should,” Ben answers and leans forward to rest his forehead against Rook’s. Rook freezes in place, his heart skipping a beat. He and Ben have been in closer quarters before due to their profession, but it’s never been so… Intentional. So intimate. Ben shuts his jade green eyes and allows a small smile to take over his face. Rook just stares at him and waits for what’s next. Much to his surprise, Ben gives him a kiss. Though brief, it’s sweet, and enough to lift the weight that’s been on Rook’s shoulders since their argument earlier that day as Ben pulls back. “I love you, too, Rook. I’m glad you told me.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Ben laughs.

“It is a lot to process,” Rook answers, barely able to get the words out. “Would you stay here with me tonight?”

“Yeah,” Ben nods, his smile as radiant as the moonlight that shines upon them through Rook’s living room window. “I think I would.”

#benrook #omniboyfriends #ben 10 #ben 10 omniverse #rook blonko #ben tennyson #ben ten #ben ten series #ben 10 series #fluff #oneshot #oneshots #drabble #drabbles

[sentinelpri]

Feather In The Wind (Valentine's Day Special 2024)

The first Valentine’s Day that Dabi spends with the Paranormal Liberation Front is a peaceful one- at least compared to what he’s used to. After a childhood full of pain and trauma- ruined holidays and cold nights spent outside pushing himself to the edge with his individual training while his father ignored him in favor of abusing Shouto- being in his own large, lavish room within the confines of the base is… Interesting, to say the least. 

There’s no booming yells reverberating through the walls, no ashes or burn marks on the floor, no slaps echoing through the hallway. His old family is dead and gone to him, instead replaced by Toga who barged into his room with Twice just over an hour ago to share a sushi dinner with him on his bed. 

He isn’t sure he considers the members of what was once the League of Villains a family or even a group of friends, but they’re people who share his ideologies, and they love him more than anyone else ever has. So, when they come knocking at his door with dinner to make sure he’s fed, he doesn’t deny them, nor does he rush them out. He figures there’s no better way to spend the day of love than with the few people who truly love him. That’s why it’s nearly past two in the morning by the time they finally fuck off and leave Dabi with the takeout container trash and a soy sauce stain on his wrinkled bedsheets. 

It’s a quiet night, so Dabi finds himself going out to the balcony with a cigarette in hand. He lights it with his quirk and lets out a sigh as the cold air consumes him. Snowflakes fall over him in quick succession, melting on his hot skin and clothing, leaving him damp but still warm due to the insulating nature of his quirk. He takes a few long drags from his cigarette and watches the smoke he blows out puff up in the frosty air. 

The base that they all stay in is a large tower that oversees the rest of Deika City. It’s a quiet and peaceful town with most of the members being part of the liberation front. They go to bed early most nights so they can wake up even earlier come morning to train for the cause… Dabi almost wonders if the gullible grunts Re-Destro and Shigaraki have gathered and molded are just as bad as the society of heroes they’re fighting against. They blindly follow their grand commander, not questioning his authority or morals, blindly agreeing with everything he says even when it’s not in their best interest. Dabi supposes he’s not much better, though. He’s never agreed with Shigaraki’s morals a hundred percent, but he’s never dared call the man out- especially now with his newfound power, he and this organization could end Dabi in a heartbeat.

It doesn’t matter, anyway, Dabi supposes. While Shigaraki is going mad with power and while his objective becomes more and more questionable by the day, they both want the same thing in the end; to destroy heroes and the terrible society they’ve made since their manifestation.

He isn’t sure why he bothers. His life has been a living hell for a long time and soon enough, he’s going to go up in flames like the rest- probably by his own doing… Hopefully by his own doing. Dabi laughs to himself, mulling over it all. Then, something small comes into view. At first, he thinks it may be a piece of trash or even some sort of animal, but it gets closer until he makes out the familiar shape.

Dabi blinks and burns his cigarette out, abandoning it on the floor of the balcony so he can narrow his turquoise eyes at the red feather that’s just landed on the railing. Is it a coincidence? No, it must be from Hawks. It’s too large to be from a bird. But what does it mean? Is it a signal? A warning? Some sort of fucked up joke? He’s well aware that the pro hero frequently uses his feathers for spy work and wonders if he should light the damn thing on fire, but then he sees something else in the distance- no, someone, and he quickly puts together who it is.

Hawks is flying towards him in a downward trajectory. At least three fourths of his feathers are gone and some of the ones remaining on his left wing are singed at the ends. His jacket isn’t over his shoulders despite the freezing temperatures, instead balled up in his hands and pushed up against his abdomen. The blond’s whole outfit is tattered and there’s blood on his hands and face as he weakly flutters towards the tower.

After what feels like forever, Hawks gets close enough that he’s hovering about ten meters above the balcony. A harsh gust of wind seems to knock the last of Hawks’s energy out of him and send his body falling down to where Dabi’s standing.

Part of Dabi wants to tell the poor bastard to get fucked and go inside so he can enjoy the rest of his  night, but before he can think better of what is arguably a poor decision for him to make, he finds himself reaching out and catching the pro hero in his arms. Hawks crashes into him with a pained groan, wrapping an arm around Dabi’s neck. His wings have given out and he’s too weak to do anything else, so Dabi wraps both arms around him in return to support his weight.

“...Hawks,” Dabi breathes out, too shocked by Hawks’s entrance to say much else. He drags the man inside through the screen door of his suite before the two of them can be caught outside like this by Shigaraki or any of the other lieutenants, locking the door behind them and quickly glancing out the glass of the door to make sure they haven’t been seen. A quick sigh of relief falls from between his lips when he realizes that no one was outside or nearby, but that relief is replaced by confusion the second he notices Hawks is too weak to walk as well. “What-?”

“I… I didn’t know,” Hawks starts, voice raspy. There’s clearly something wrong aside from the basic injuries and exhaustion that are already apparent. Dabi thinks he may have to press for that information as he sets Hawks down to sit on the edge of his bed, only for Hawks to pull his crumpled up jacket off of where he’s been holding it against his stomach to reveal a massive burn wound. It’s ghastly and large, just on the left side of his abdomen, bleeding and fresh. It looks like there’s shards of varying sizes in it, perhaps shrapnel from an explosive or some sort of weapon-based quirk. “I mean, where else could I have gone? You’re not my first choice, but you were nearby and I’m sure this is your area of expertise.”

“You could’ve gone literally anywhere but here… And you chose to come here to Deika city,” Dabi sighs. On top of soy sauce stains, he’s also going to have blood stains on his sheets. That’s going to be a fun lie to come up with if anyone sees his room before he has the chance to wash them… Huffing, the white-haired man goes into his connected bathroom and grabs the first aid supplies. Thankfully, he’s so used to burning himself from overdoing it with his quirk that he has to treat second and third degree burns regularly. When he returns, he sets the supplies on the edge of the bed and glares down at Hawks. “First aid isn’t exactly my forte, dumbass. Best case scenario, you’re going to lose a ton of blood. Worst case scenario, you’re going to die of an infection in a few days.”

“Calm down,” Hawks says with a dismissive wave. “I trust you. You know that.”

“That’s bullshit,” Dabi points out, because truth be told, their relationship is complicated. Hawks may or may not have killed Best Jeanist and brought him to be turned into a Nomu- that much is true, but if Dabi is anything, it’s a good judge of character. He’s well aware that while the other man isn’t completely brainwashed like a lot of the other pro-heroes, he’s at least misguided and intent on staying complicit in allowing them to continue upholding their vile hero-centered society. On the other side of things, Dabi knows that Hawks understands him as well, and that they can’t truly be friends let alone anything more than that… At least they shouldn’t be. Yet, they both frequently toe the line of what is and isn’t appropriate for a relationship that’s supposedly based around their work. “And even if it weren’t… Neither of us should trust each other.”

“Just try your best,” Hawks shrugs. 

“Fine. Take off any of the clothes covering your injuries and lie down,” Hawks does as instructed, removing his clothes painstakingly slow for someone who’s supposed to be having a dire medical crisis. First, his shattered visor and headphones, then his boots, followed by his socks, then his tattered shirt and pants. The only things left on are jewelry and his boxers as he lies down on the end of Dabi’s bed. Dabi sits beside Hawks’s left hip on the mattress, his first aid kit in hand. His eyes flicker between the bloody jacket on the floor and Hawks’s injury. “Be prepared for this shit to hurt like hell.”

“Whatever happens happens.”

With that, Dabi gets to work.

“Oh, yeah, because that’s exactly what I need right now- a dead hero on my hands.”

“Think of it this way; I’m sure Shigaraki has explicitly ordered you not to kill me despite your suspicions about my loyalty to the cause, so now you have extra motivation to keep me alive.”

“Tch, fine,” Dabi rolls his eyes for what feels like the millionth time that night as he puts a pair of gloves from his first aid kit on. He rinses Hawks’s wound with saline and dampens some gauze with the same solution. “Only for you would I keep a pro-hero in my god damn bedroom…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hawks shakily replies with a wince.

“Nothing, just know that you’ve only got tonight. You try to mooch off of me any longer than that and I’m kicking your sorry ass out of here.”

“Fine, fine.”

An awkward silence falls upon them. Dabi continues to work, slowly but surely, packing the wound to the best of his ability. Part of him wonders if he should’ve recruited Toga- she wouldn’t rat him out for keeping Hawks here, and she would certainly be much better at tending to the hero’s injury, but part of Dabi wants to be the only one to do this for Hawks. Dabi’s mind races; why would Hawks come here, will he be okay, what does this sort of intimate interaction mean for them, what if Shigaraki finds out about this, and most importantly-

“Who did this to you?”

“Huh?” Hawks blinks, seemingly baffled by the question. “Why do you care?”

“Just tell me who did this to you,” Dabi demands. “I want to know.”

“Tch, what are you gonna do? Kill ‘em?”

Dabi feels his cheeks burn red. In order to keep himself from meeting Hawks’s eyes, he focuses on the wound a little more than he needs to, paying extra attention and being especially gentle with how he covers the packing job. Just to be safe, he tapes an extra layer of gauze over it and pulls out some tape bandages.

“Maybe,” Dabi answers, perhaps a little slower than he should for it to be believable. “Now sit up so I can finish up.”

“Since when do you care so much?”

“Does it really matter? I assume you were trying to capture whoever it was anyways.”

“Yeah, I was trying to apprehend her to turn into the police, not kill her,” Hawks says. He tenses as he forces himself to sit up straight despite the evident pain that’s telling him not to. “Don’t tell me… You’re upset that I’m hurt?”

“So what if I am? You rocked up to my place at two in the morning on Valentine’s Day expecting me to play nurse- I think I have the right to be just a little pissed,” Dabi retorts, wrapping the tape bandages around Hawks’s mid-section to fully cover the wound on his side.

“I’m surprised you’re keeping me here… And that you helped me in the first place,” Hawks sighs and lays back on the bed as soon as Dabi finishes. Against his better judgment, Dabi joins him. The two men lie on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, side by side, far closer than two friends- two enemies- two comrades, should be. Hawks turns his head so he can look at Dabi, and while Dabi doesn’t return the heated stare, he can most certainly feel it burning holes into him. “Why?”

“Because it’s you,” He whispers before he can think better of it. Dabi, usually so calm and so collected, feels himself falling apart. He reaches out to hold Hawks’s hand. Everything that follows is nothing but uncharacteristically impassioned word vomit. “And I don’t know what it is about you that I like so much, but I couldn’t just let you fall and snap your neck or crack your pretty little head open on my balcony.”

“Heh, you like me?” Hawks teases, intertwining their fingers and giving Dabi’s palm an affectionate squeeze.

“It’s not like that,” Dabi raises his voice and snatches his hand away. Briefly, he wonders if this was a mistake. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Yeah? So what if I am? What are you gonna do about it? I’m already injured as it is- you’d have to tear a limb off or kill me for things to be any worse than they are now.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Thanks for this…” Hawks responds. Dabi looks over to see the man smiling at him. “I owe you one.”

“No shit. Seriously, why’d you come here in the first place? Even if you were nearby, let’s not pretend that your injury was life-threatening enough to make you desperate.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I don’t have anyone else?”

“Really? No family? None of your pro hero friends? No fan girls to spend the day of love with?”

“No,” Hawks answers. He rolls onto his uninjured side- into Dabi- and places a hand on his chest. Dabi freezes at the touch. “I’m not very close with my family and my ‘pro hero friends’ aren’t my friends, they’re my coworkers. The fan girls are… A little much, too. It’s not smart to get attached to any of them.”

“And yet you’re attached to me? Or, attached to me enough that you felt safe coming here, even knowing who I am and what I’m capable of.”

“I didn’t say that I was attached to you at all, Dabi. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“But it’s obvious,” Dabi points out. “Just like I’m attached to you… You wouldn’t have come here and trusted me to help you like this if you didn’t feel something for me.”

“And you would’ve let me crash on your balcony and die in the freezing cold or ratted me out to Shigaraki and the others if you didn’t feel the same way.”

“So, what? Does that make us friends now? I know you’ve been trying to get buddy-buddy with me for a while. I bet you’re real happy now.”

“Friends? Let’s not pretend it’s that easy,” Hawks says with a sardonic laugh. “We both know it’s not.”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not. We both know how this ends, anyway.”

“Then don’t argue semantics with me, you prick.”

And for a moment, the two men share a glance; a moment of peace wherein there’s no hero and no villain, no war, no anything or anyone but the two of them. Gold burns into icy blue. Dabi assumed he’d lost his heart long ago, but he’s sure it skips a beat when he feels Hawks’s calloused hand over it through his clothes.

“Dabi?” Hawks starts, love and adoration radiating off of him in potent waves that make Dabi nauseous. 

Dabi reaches over to place a hand on top of Hawks’s. 

“Yeah?”

“What are we after this?”

“...I think we both know the answer to that,” Dabi says, because he knows deep down that this won’t work. It never could. They don’t have a chance. Putting a label on this would just upset them even more when it inevitably has to end. “Let’s not make this more complicated than this needs to be… I mean, let’s just enjoy each other while we can.”

“Right. I guess we shouldn’t let this change anything… Well, aside from the obvious, that is. Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page! I’d hate for you to catch feelings and-”

Annoyed by Hawks’s bluffing, Dabi interjects.

“I never said that I hadn’t caught feelings, you idiot; just that we shouldn’t label whatever it is that we are,” Dabi rolls over to face away from Hawks. He’s unsurprised when Hawks scoots closer and tosses an arm over his waist. “You better be out of here by the time I wake up tomorrow.”

“Trust me, Dabi, you won’t even know I was here in the first place.”

Dabi scoffs and closes his eyes, unable to shake the uneasiness that comes with someone holding him so sweetly. And, for a moment before he drifts off into sleep, Dabi briefly wonders if this is what love- or friendship, or whatever the hell this is- is supposed to feel like, like someone trusting you to take care of them and offering you affection in return, like the scent of burnt skin and blood and sweat lingering on his bedsheets. 

When he wakes up the following afternoon, Dabi is so groggy that he almost forgets what occurred the night before until he sees red splotches on his bedding. He glances over at the other side of the bed to see that it’s empty, but that there’s still a few strands of blond hair left behind on one of the pillows. Then, he rolls out of bed so he can check the bathroom and balcony.

As he expected, Hawks kept a promise for once and left before Dabi woke up. Disappointment threatens to wash over, but at the very least, Hawks was kind enough to leave a red feather on the balcony. Dabi steps outside and picks it up before the winter wind can blow it away, a fond smile threatening to take over his lips as he takes it in, knowing that Hawks will be back soon enough.

What a beautiful Valentine’s Day gift.

#bnha hawks #hawks #mha hotwings #bnha hotwings #hotwings #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia #bnha dabihawks #dabihawks #bnha dabi #touya todoroki #toya todoroki #valentine's day #valentines day #valentine's day 2024

[sentinelpri]

Like This (NSFW)

Kakashi’ Hatake’s legs dangle off of the edge of the Hokage monument as he glances at Might Guy, who is sitting next to him. The other shinobi is distracted, staring at the string of stars that litter the pitch black sky like fairy lights, but Kakashi doesn’t mind.

“It’s been more than two weeks since you’ve been in town, Sukea! I wasn’t expecting to see you so suddenly,” Guy starts. His deep onyx gaze is still straight forward in a way that has the starlight shining beautifully against his sun-kissed skin. On one hand, Kakashi wants Guy to be looking at him rather than at the village they’ve both seen a million times over. On the other, he doesn’t, because Guy wouldn’t really be looking at him. Rather, Guy would be looking at Sukea, the alter ego and disguise that Kakashi has been fooling him with for over a year now. Though Kakashi has done a good job of hiding the truth thus far, there are evenings like this one where he feels as if Guy can see straight through all of it. “But I’m glad you invited me out here tonight even though you only just got back. It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you as well,” Kakashi says, swallowing tightly. He offers up a forced smile and runs a hand through his hair to make sure that the brown, fluffy locks are still perfectly in place as they should be with his partial-transformation jutsu. A full transformation would be much easier to manage for such a risky situation, as he wouldn’t have to worry about the purple face-tape beneath his eyes and the matching eye-shadow that cover his scar or the makeup on his eyebrows potentially coming off, but he spends so much time with Guy in this form that the full transformation would eat up all of his chakra. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

The words should make Kakashi’s heart flutter, but they don't. They’re not meant for him- they’re meant for Sukea, this fake person that he’s created so selfishly. 

There are times- like right now- where it hurts. There are nights where Kakashi goes home and finds himself restless with the pain of wishing that Guy was in love with him and only him rather than with Sukea, who Guy is convinced is an entirely separate person. There are days where Kakashi drowns in guilt because he’s purposely deceiving his best friend.

But, he’s happier like this, and so is Guy.

Because like this, he isn’t Kakashi Hatake. He is not the man with a tragic past full of death and failure, nor is he the shell of a person he’s confined himself to be. Like this, he doesn’t avoid intimacy at all costs. He doesn’t push those closest to him away and spend all of his free time in solitude.

Like this, he is simply Sukea. No last name to remind him of his father. No trauma. Just a traveling photographer with a loving heart and a knack for mischief. 

For all Guy knows, Sukea comes from a boring nuclear family who lives in a far off civilian town. 

For all Guy knows, he’s at least a little bit normal- and Kakashi is desperate to keep it that way. 

So, when Guy stands and offers a hand to help him up- even though he still isn’t used to another man’s hands being used to lift him up rather than to hurt him- he takes it, stands, and wraps an arm around Guy’s waist with a smile- because he’s going to convince Guy that he is truly like this for as long as he can.

“So, shall we take this to your place?” Sukea says, knowing full well that he could never take Guy back to his shitty little apartment. 

As always, Guy grins down at him and pulls him closer. 

“I’d like that.”

~

The next morning, Kakashi slips out of Guy’s apartment window and makes his way home before the older man can wake up and convince him to go out for breakfast. He leaves no indication of when Sukea will be back in town to make things easier on himself and crashes the moment he gets back to his own apartment for a long nap. 

“God… I should really stop doing this,” Kakashi mutters to no one but himself upon waking from his slumber. His back is sore, there’s hickeys left on his neck and down his chest, and his legs still feel like gelatin. Memories of Guy gently wiping him down and pressing kisses against the marks left on his skin flash behind his eyes. “One of these days, it’s going to catch up with me… Oh well. Guess I should take a shower.”

After scrubbing the smell of Guy off of him and trying his best to distract himself from their rendezvous, Kakashi goes to sit on his favorite bench in the village to read the first volume of Icha Icha. As much as he’d love to go on a mission right now, he’s already reached his quota for the month and is stuck in the village until further notice (because according to Lady Tsunade, he can’t drown himself in work just because Naruto and Sasuke are gone). The familiar words printed on the pages of his book bring him no comfort, though, as Guy’s chakra signature draws near.

“Kakashi, my dear rival!” Guy calls, leaping down from a nearby tree and joining Kakashi on the bench.

He sits far too close for Kakashi’s comfort and tosses an arm over his shoulder. Kakashi shuts his book as subtly as he can and pretends that the hairs on the back of his neck aren’t standing up right now.

“Guy,” He speaks, bristling underneath the sensation of Guy’s clothed arm against the back of his neck. It’s surprisingly warm. Just like his touch was last night. Rather than looking over at Guy, Kakashi stares at the cover of Icha Icha as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “What’s up?”

“Right now we’re tied at fifty two wins to fifty two wins- I was thinking we should settle the score by having an eating contest at Ichiraku!” Guy explains with a hopeful smile. When Kakashi finally meets his eyes, he can see the utter love and adoration in them. “What do you say?”

It makes Kakashi’s heart hurt because he knows that even with Sukea as a part of his life now, Guy still can’t let go of him. Guy is still in love with him just as much as he is with Sukea and it’ll probably remain that way.

“An eating contest, hm?” Kakashi asks, standing up so he can put some distance between the two of them.

‘Sounds like an excuse for a lunch date… Classic Guy.’

Kakashi shakes his head and starts to walk away, only for Guy to follow close behind him and continue rambling about the ‘eating contest’. All Kakashi can think about is why he keeps doing this to the both of them when he knows the kindest thing to do would be to stop using the Sukea disguise and cut Guy off completely. 

Kakashi supposes there’s a logical explanation for why he’s been doing this for so long, when he gets down to really thinking about it. 

He’s selfish. 

Is said explanation morally justifiable? Not really. But, to him, it makes sense. Guy has had an obvious crush on him since they were children. Kakashi refuses to date him, citing a lack of interest as his reason even though they both know that’s not it. The real reason is that he’s scared of getting too close only to get burned and ruin their two-decade-long-friendship for the sake of romance. 

Determined not to have his fears come to fruition, Kakashi remained hellbent on keeping his and Guy’s friendship completely platonic, but the constant complaints about a dull love-life and lack of passion that he’d heard from Guy became tiresome following the last Chunin exams. 

Kakashi devised a simple solution; transform into his Sukea disguise, catch Guy at his local bar, and charm him just enough to distract him from Kakashi for a little while.

It was a perfect plan. 

The catch?

It worked too well. What was supposed to be a night of magic and romance to get Guy’s spirits up turned into a one-night-stand, which turned into a series of real dates, which has turned into a relationship that they haven’t quite put a label on. This has been going on for over a year and Kakashi swears that it’s a miracle he hasn’t blown his cover yet.

“Yes- an eating contest will be a true test of endurance, stamina, and willpower!” Guy rambles on, snapping Kakashi back to reality. “What do you say?”

“Mah, I’m not feeling it today. Thanks for the offer, though,” Kakashi rejects the invitation and makes another attempt to walk away, only for Guy to stand in front of him.

Kakashi gulps. He’s suddenly reminded of all the nights he’s spent as Sukea lately; of the muscular body that’s currently blocking his path being used to pin him to the wall, the bed, the glass door of Guy’s shower, and every other semi-flat surface in the ravenette’s apartment. Ashamed, Kakashi stares at the dirt road beneath his feet, cheeks burning bright red underneath his mask.

“Ah, but if you refuse my challenge, you lose by default!”

“Then consider yourself in the lead. We’re at fifty two to fifty three wins now, yes?” Kakashi questions and steps around Guy. He shoves his book in one of his large pockets, knowing that he won’t be able to focus on reading it on the way home even if he wanted to. “I’ll make up for it later, so don’t worry about it.”

“Kakashi, wait!”

Much to Kakashi’s horror, Guy exclaims loudly enough that it gains the other villagers’ attention as he grabs Kakashi by the wrist to keep him from leaving.

Kakashi turns, barely meeting Guy’s gaze. He snatches his hand back so fast he’s sure it hurts both of them. The civilians that walk past them stare but don’t stop or say anything. 

“What is it?”

“It doesn’t have to be a contest, you know- we can just go get lunch together! As friends, I mean,” Guy offers, and Kakashi’s heart flutters. Part of him wants to accept the offer. The other part of him knows that it would be wrong to do so considering what he’s been doing lately. He’s not even sure he could keep himself from word-vomiting the truth. “If the contest is too much for you today… It’ll be my treat.”

It’s hard to say no. Kakashi knows he needs to, but ever since Sasuke and Naruto left the village, Guy has become increasingly concerned about him. In turn, Guy has been trying to spend more time with him. The problem with that is that Guy refuses to give up no matter how many times Kakashi rejects him- probably because he can tell that, deep down, Kakashi wants him back and just refuses to act on it.

“I’m good.”

“Kakashi, please,” Guy begs, onyx eyes pleading. Guilt makes Kakashi’s stomach sink like heavy, ink black tar. “I know you have a lot going on right now, but you can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Shutting everyone out! You were doing so much better until Sasuke went rogue-”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Kakashi snaps. “And you don’t know what I’m going through or how I’m doing, so don’t pretend that you have any idea. We’re rivals, yes, and we’ve been friends for a long time, but none of what has happened since Sasuke left is any of your business.”

Guy steps back, crosses his arms over his chest, and lets out a sigh of defeat. 

“Are you seriously going to do this again?”

“Yes,” Kakashi nods. “I’ll continue to do what I think is best for the both of us, and right now, that means keeping my distance.”

“You’re wrong,” Guy argues, but he makes no move to stop Kakashi from leaving this time.

“Maybe I am, but if that’s true, and I realize it later down the line, I’ll come to terms with it on my own. I don’t need you to tell me. You’re not my parent, nor are you my partner, a therapist, or anyone else who would be even remotely qualified to meddle in my personal life like you do. Stay out of it.”

“Fine,” Guy spits. Kakashi can practically hear the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “If that’s how you really feel-”

“Listen,” Kakashi interjects. He hates how good Guy is getting at changing his mind about these sorts of things. “We can get lunch, but don’t think I’m going to magically open up to you, alright? I just want to be left alone… And after we get lunch today, you need to leave me be for a while. I’ll come to you when- or if- I need you. I promise.”

Guy looks angry- like he wants to lash out and yell, like he wants to chew Kakashi out for treating him like shit and pushing him to the side for the past twenty years- but that expression quickly settles into something more defeated that Kakashi can’t stand the look of. Guy sighs, and finally, agrees. 

“Alright, Kakashi… What would you like to eat?”

~

Lunch with Guy that day is awkward and tense, to say the least. They eat, but no conversation is had. Guy pays the tab and they part ways after practically scarfing down their food to get out of the awkward social situation.

Kakashi regrets giving in and going in the first place. By the time he gets back to his own apartment, he’s tired and wracked with guilt over the argument- and worst of all, unable to distract himself by going on missions or training with his team of Genin. Reading through all of his Icha Icha books hasn’t managed to get his mind off of it either. 

Who would’ve guessed that reading a romance novel would make him think about the situation more? Surprisingly, not Kakashi himself.

After hours of lamenting, the Jonin grumbles and rolls out of bed so he can grab the disguise from his closet; green rain coat, beige scarf, black eye contacts, and purple face tape. He pads into the bathroom. The pitter-patter of tiny paws against his wooden floors follows close behind. 

As he starts to apply the concealer over his eyelid to cover his scar and then over his arm to cover his tattoo, Kakashi can already feel Pakkun’s beady eyes burning holes of judgment into him. The pug drapes himself over Kakashi’s bare feet and grumbles.

“Going to see Guy again, are you?”

“Sticking your nose in my business again, are you?” Kakashi shoots back, not even sparing Pakkun a glance. He carefully covers his Sharingan with a contact lense and applies the purple tape beneath his eyes.

“As always,” Pakkun retorts. “Sort of weird that you’ve been doing this to the poor idiot for, what, a year?”

“Trust me, I know it’s weird, but you’re not my therapist-”

“Or anyone else who would be qualified to give you life advice, I know. The whole situation is just ridiculous… Can’t help but ruminate about it when it comes up.”

“What are you gonna do, tell him?” Kakashi hums and moves his feet out from underneath Pakkun so he can slide his shoes on. Finally, he performs a partial transformation to change his hair, make his figure a little bulkier, and slides on his shoes. “Again, it’s not your business.”

“And yet you vent to me about it once a month. If you didn’t want me to know, you wouldn’t tell me… And you also wouldn’t come back so often reeking of sweat and hair gel.”

“Look, I’m gonna get out of here, okay? I’ll see you later. I don’t know where the others are right now, but whenever they get back, there’s cooked steak and veggies for you all in the fridge; you just have to heat them up.”

Pakkun nods and briskly walks out of the room, probably to go lay in Kakashi’s bed and coat the sheets with his hair since he knows the man is going to be leaving. Kakashi doesn’t even bother scolding the Ninken or trying to get him to stop, instead packing a small overnight bag (even though he never stays long enough to fall asleep) and heading out.

The streets in Konoha are loud and bustling despite the time of night. The moon shines down on the village as civilians and ninja alike go up and down the streets, popping in and out of shops and chatting. Many travel in pairs, arm in arm, hand in hand, looking at each other with adoration in their eyes. Kakashi blends in with the crowd easily since he’s missing his ninja gear, and since he does, no one bats an eye in his direction- even while he blatantly stares at the couples he passes who are so blatantly putting their love for each other on display. He wonders if, maybe someday, him and Guy could do that- with him as himself, rather than as Sukea. 

With a frown, he shakes his head to clear it of the thought. He isn’t sure he wants to open that can of worms any time soon, let alone tonight when he’s already emotional. 

Quickly, he enters the residential area where Guy’s apartment is located and makes his way to the older man’s door. He knocks and is unsurprised when he gets an immediate answer.

“Sukea!” Guy greets, a beaming smile on his face. Kakashi- Sukea, now- isn’t sure whether he should feel excited or guilty. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“What can I say? I missed you too much to stay away.”

Guy’s apartment is stupidly perfect in a way that makes Sukea’s heart throb in his chest when he’s there. With seasonal potpourri bowls in each room that make the place reek of pecans and apples, old pictures of them and all of their friends hung unevenly on the walls, and training gear strewn about, Sukea thinks he could stay forever before remembering that he can’t. So, he enjoys it while he can, grinning when Guy pulls him into his arms, lifts him up, and carries him into the bedroom.

~

Sukea wakes up the following morning and realizes three things.

One, the bedroom is no longer lit by the lamp on Guy’s nightstand but by natural sunlight that comes pouring through the blinds.

Two, he fell asleep the night before without realizing it, meaning that it must be morning.

And three, he can’t maintain any jutsu in his sleep, so he is now Kakashi rather than Sukea. Yet, when he rubs the sleep out of his eyes, Guy is still very much there. The ravenette has a soft smile on his face as he runs a hand through Kakashi’s silver hair and leans forward to press a kiss against Kakashi’s cheek. Kakashi, on the other hand, panics. Guy clearly sees said panic in Kakashi’s face and reacts accordingly.

“Kakashi… It’s okay, you know,” Guy tries to comfort Kakashi and reaches forward for him to no avail. 

Kakashi thinks he must look like an idiot as he jerks away and sits up to furrow his brow and dwell on why the fuck Guy is acting like his usual reassuring, loving self instead of losing his mind at the fact that he’s been being tricked for over a year. Incredibly self-conscious, Kakashi rips the blanket that they were previously sharing from Guy and uses it to cover his body as well as the lower half of his face. If he weren’t already embarrassed about the Sukea predicament, he definitely is at the prospect of Guy seeing him- as himself- completely nude.

“Wait,” Kakashi breathes out and reaches up to remove the single contact in his Sharingan before allowing it to flutter shut. The contact is haphazardly tossed in Guy’s bedside trash can, which is also full of empty water bottles, beer cans, and used condoms from the night before. Kakashi’s face flushes pink in a mixture of embarrassment and horror. “You knew?”

“Uh,” Guy clears his throat, his cheeks also darkening. “Yes? You didn’t… Wait, did you not know that I knew?”

“Why didn’t you… I didn’t… I mean, um, I should probably just go,” Kakashi scrambles to stand up with the blanket wrapped around him so he can get his clothes back on, but in the midst of his panic, he trips and falls over one of his abandoned shoes. Thankfully, Guy rolls over to the edge of the bed and gets up just in time to catch Kakashi by the waist and steady him on his feet. When Kakashi tries to slip away, Guy shakes his head, to which Kakashi groans and closes both eyes. “Please, just let me leave. I’m humiliated enough as it is and I understand that you’re probably pissed, but I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I’m not just going to let you run away from this, too. We need to talk- there’s clearly been some sort of miscommunication here!”

“What’s there to talk about?” Kakashi sighs. Guy lets him pull away, but this time, he doesn’t run, opting to sit on the edge of the bed with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “I mean… If you knew… Why did you let me continue? What exactly does this mean to you?”

“Well, when you’re like this…” Guy pauses, sits down next to Kakashi, and reaches under the blanket to hold his hand. Against his better judgment, Kakashi reciprocates and intertwines their fingers. Guy’s touch is warm and genuine, just like the man himself. Although Kakashi isn’t anticipating a reaction of anger and betrayal anymore, he’s still conflicted- and, more importantly, confused. “It’s the only way you let me in. I know, it went too far, but… I assumed that we were both in on it. Did you seriously think you could fool me with a disguise like that?”

“Would you be mad if I said ‘yes’?”

“No, I can’t be mad at you,” Guy laughs and shakes his head. When Kakashi glances over, the older man is wistfully staring at the old picture of them that’s hung on the wall across from where they’re sitting. “Just frustrated with you… Don’t you remember the first time I saw you as Sukea?”

“Of course I do.”

“I guess I should’ve actually asked you about it instead of just assuming, but even though it took me a few minutes to figure it out that night, I did, and I assumed it was intentional… Like you wanted the connection I was so desperately trying to initiate with you but felt as if you weren’t allowed to have it as yourself. Like you did it with the intention of us both being in on it and just… Not talking about it in our day to day. I get that, as a ninja, it’s easier to keep your personal life separate from your work life- you’ve always been that way, but for you, I’ve always been a part of both faucets of your life and you were just so desperate to keep the two separated despite that.”

“Well, that assumption wasn’t completely wrong… I think I understand, and I’m sorry for everything. Are you really not mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, but I am offended on your behalf since you thought all this time that you had to use this- this alter ego of yours to get me to fall in love with you! Kakashi, I’ve always loved you for you- and I love Sukea, too. I understand that he’s a part of you, and that you find comfort in being him, but… I love all of you equally, not just Sukea. What did you think would happen when I found out? That I’d lose my mind and abandon you over this? That I’d be angry?”

Kakashi lets out a nervous laugh.

“Well…” He trails off, allowing the sheet to drop completely so Guy can see his face; his awkward grin, the mole he’s always been self conscious about, his red cheeks, his nose- which is a little crooked after the break he suffered from that one fight however many years ago.

“That’s exactly what you thought, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” Guy leans forward to rest a hand on either side of Kakashi’s face. He holds it tenderly in his grasp as if Kakashi is fragile, as if he’s something to be cherished. The sweetness of it has Kakashi melting onto Guy’s soft sheets. “I love you, and I love every part of you. You know that.”

“I… Suppose you’re right,” Kakashi murmurs. “Do you want me to leave now?”

“Do you want to leave? After all of that?”

“Well, no-”

“Then what do you want to do?” Guy asks. “Do what you want, Kakashi. Whatever you want.”

“Okay,” Kakashi nods. “I’ll do what I want, then.”

And so, Kakashi leans forward, capturing Guy’s lips with his own and laughing between kisses when the two of them tumble back into bed.

#drabble #drabbles #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfiction #oneshot #oneshots #fanfiction #kakashi hatake #kakagai fanfiction #kakagai #kakaguy #maito guy #maito gai #might guy

[sentinelpri]

Knowing (NSFW)

The night that Vogler gets voted off the board, Wilson drives back up to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in the pouring rain to go celebrate with Chase, Foreman, and House in the latter’s office. Wilson, whose position was conveniently reinstated by Cuddy and the rest of the board, brings a bottle of whiskey in for the four of them to split between the shot glasses he knows House keeps in his desk drawer.

They stay there, making fun of Vogler and chatting away until half past midnight. Chase and Foreman excuse themselves around the same time. 

“And then there were two,” Wilson chimes with a half smile as he screws the lid back onto the glass whiskey bottle and slides it under House’s desk. He doesn’t drink much- hardly drank any of it tonight- so he figures House will get more use out of it than he ever will. “How are you feeling?”

“Think they’re going home together?” House hums, totally ignoring Wilson’s question. House is shaken due to that day’s happenings and just refuses to admit it to anyone- even himself. It makes sense that he won’t acknowledge it. “I could’ve sworn there was some tension recently.”

“I think that has more to do with the fact that you had them at each other’s throats than it has to do with what you’re implying,” Wilson scoffs and shakes his head.

Wilson looks toward the window. House has the blinds open for once. Finally, even if it’s only for tonight, House isn’t closing off the rest of the world.

Wilson stands from where he’s sat in front of House’s desk so he can go to peer out the window. Rain continuously showers over the building and trickles down the window in big fat drops to shroud their already-foggy view of the city. 

“Ah, you’re no fun,” House feigns a pout and lifts himself from his spinning chair so he can slip his big coat over his shoulders. A few awkward seconds pass. Wilson waits for House to inevitably make his exit with a sarcastic farewell, but the exit never comes. Instead, House uses his cane to walk until he’s standing next to Wilson. He leans against the window and stares out at the city rather than at Wilson himself. Meanwhile, all Wilson can stare at is House. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be going home to your wife? She might get lonely without you. Poor thing.”

Wilson rolls his eyes at that. He doesn’t want his wife- he wants House. His marriage has been over since it started and at this point, he’s just waiting for Julie to serve him with papers. 

“I’m an oncologist, House, it’s not like she’s used to having me home at this time of night anyways. The only reason I’m not working right now is because I just got hired back.”

“But you could be home with her if you really wanted to,” House points out- ever so excited to correct someone, even if it’s Wilson- no, especially if it’s Wilson. The man is sadistic; always seizing the opportunity to point out somebody else’s flaws if it draws attention away from his own. By pointing out the fact that Wilson should be home with his wife right now, he draws the attention away from how he refused to keep his head down with Vogler and got Wilson fired. “And you could also be pounding that hot nurse you had lunch with if you really wanted to. I bet she’d light some candles at her apartment and put rose petals on the bed to make it real nice- a contrast from the dead bedroom you’re probably suffering from with Julie right now. So, why are you here with me when you could be with either of them? Or anyone else, for that matter.”

“You’re right,” Wilson shrugs. He knows better to engage with House by arguing. That’s exactly what House wants, so he refuses to play into it. He puts his own jacket on and shoots House a sharp glare. “If you’re going to be like this about it, though, I’m going home.”

Wilson goes to leave, only to feel a hand on his shoulder. He turns his head to see House standing there with an unreadable expression (because even after all these years, this man is still an enigma).

“But do you want to go home to her?”

Wilson gulps and looks down, avoiding House’s prying gaze.

House reaches up to grab Wilson’s chin- to make Wilson look at him. Wilson does what he knows House wants him to and makes eye contact. Icy blue burns into light brown at the same time that Wilson’s cheeks flush pink. 

He’s had feelings for House since… Well, he doesn’t know when. One day, their friendship was just that, and the next, Wilson found himself with a notebook full of the man’s favorite things; found himself stealing glances and dreaming of things that he shouldn’t have been. Casual outings with his best friend turned into him spending his afternoons in preparation, trying on different outfits and mulling over which one would impress House the most. Peaceful nights with his wife- wives, over the years- turned into early mornings with him knelt on the floor of his bathroom, praying to God for House’s health, for House’s happiness, for House’s work, for House. Things changed so fast he couldn’t see it coming, let alone stop it.

Wilson remains lost in thought until House clears his throat, impatient. He recenters himself and meets House’s eyes again. Clearly, House reciprocates. Wilson isn’t oblivious to that. Wilson is the only person House spends time with, the only person House is interested in, the only person House has decided not to shut out. Wilson is the only person House has loved since Stacy.

But, whether or not House actually wants a relationship, Wilson has no idea. House isn’t the kind of man to hesitate. He would’ve made a move by now if he wanted it. Then again, he clearly returns Wilson’s feelings. So, if it’s not a relationship, what does House want? For them to stay in this limbo forever, wanting each other so desperately but never doing anything about it?

Wilson eyes House up and down. Still, his expression remains unreadable, but Wilson can tell that he’s tense with the way he taps his cane against the floor and purses his lips. 

“You know Julie and I haven’t been doing well. Why would I want to go home to her right now? And why does it matter to you?”

At that, House’s face falls. Wilson has successfully backed him into a corner and it’s apparent he doesn’t like it. 

“No reason.”

House backs away from Wilson like he’s on fire and retreats to his desk to gather his things. Wilson follows, unable to notice how House puts extra effort into facing away from him to hide his reddening cheeks.

“You never ask questions without a reason- you never do anything without a reason,” He argues.

“I can’t help but notice that you’re still here,” House grumbles and points up at the analogue clock on the wall. It’s almost one in the morning now. “You said you were going to leave two minutes ago, so leave.”

“You’re the one who stopped me,” Wilson shrugs. With each of these tense, awkward interactions, he feels as if he and House are getting progressively closer to something big. But then nothing happens, and he’s left disappointed like he is every other time. “You should be getting home, too. It’s late.”

“Ooh, so we can leave together,” House smirks and clacks his cane against the floor again. “I love it.”

Wilson flinches at a crack of thunder that booms through the sky.

“Are you sure you should drive in this?” He asks in reference to the downpour outside.

“What, are you gonna offer to chauffeur me to my place and then make that drive all the way back to yours?”

“No,” Wilson answers with a shake of his head. “I was gonna ask if I could drive us both to your apartment and stay with you tonight.”

“Wow, you’re really trying to get in my pants, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Wilson snaps. House blinks in what Wilson assumes is surprise. “You’re not a genius for figuring that one out; I’ve only been interested for a decade. So what?”

House pauses, standing behind his desk and staring at Wilson with a twinkle in his icy blue eyes. The tension in the room becomes so thick that it’s palpable until House walks towards the door of his office and utters one sentence.

“I don’t sleep with married men.”

Then, he shoots Wilson a wink and a smile before gingerly exiting the office, leaving nothing more than a confused and disappointed oncologist. Wilson sighs and looks at the clock again.

It’s one in the morning. He should be getting home.

~

A few months pass. Wilson moves out of the apartment he shared with Julie, which she doesn’t question. He also gets together with a lawyer and gets her served with divorce papers. Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t question that either, and when he goes back to the apartment for the rest of his things, he’s not shocked by the fact that there’s another car in his parking space and a pair of men’s steel-toed boots by the front door. 

As much as Wilson could complain about acquiring a third alimony payment, he’s so relieved that it’s over that he doesn’t think to do so. Instead, he makes copies of all the documents pertaining to the divorce, storms into House’s office, and throws them down onto the diagnostician’s desk. 

House, who was sitting in his chair and bouncing his tennis ball on the floor, glances up at Wilson with a half-smile.

“What’s this? STD test results? I knew your panty-peeling ways would catch up to you eventually,” House jokes before picking up the stack of papers and staring down at it. Upon reading the words, his eyes go wide. “You really did it…”

“I’m not a married man anymore,” Wilson smirks. “What now?”

House tilts his head. His small half of a smile morphs into a large, cheshire grin.

“I don’t sleep with people who know me.”

“Really? That’s it? Not ‘I’m not gay’?” Wilson sputters. House must be coming up with excuses to avoid the inevitable at this point- either that or just trying to fuck with him for the fun of it. They love each other, and they both know they love each other, but that was never the problem. It’s always been House and whatever reservations he has back in that complicated head of his. “That’s your reason, that you know me?”

“Yes,” House nods and tosses the copies of Wilson’s divorce papers into the trash can next to his desk. Then, he starts spinning in his chair like a child and tosses his tennis ball in Wilson’s direction. Wilson barely catches it. “And I’ve never confirmed or denied the thing about being gay- I like to keep people on their toes, keep ‘em guessing.”

“You like to keep people on their toes, huh? That’s one hell of an understatement. What about Cuddy? Or Stacy? And I’m pretty sure you’ve at least considered Cameron. You know all of them.”

“Sure I do, but they don’t know me,” House explains and crosses his arms. “You, however, do.”

“And you don’t sleep with people who know you- you won’t risk being with me even though we have these feelings for each other-” Wilson pauses, pointing at himself as he puts it together. “Because you’re afraid of being known.”

“No. I just know better than to mix being known with the terrible thing that is my sex life. Why are you so insistent on making this a me problem?” House demands. While it’s apparent that he’s trying to maintain his composure, Wilson has known the man long enough to tell that he’s frazzled as he looks for his cane. Upon locating it, House grabs it from where it fell onto the floor at some point and gets up from his chair. “Is it because you don’t want to admit that it could be you?”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Wilson huffs. He throws his hands up in frustration and furrows his brow in anger. House starts to walk like he’s going to go past Wilson and to the door of his office, so Wilson blocks his way by moving in front of him. House shoots a glare that would work on just about anyone else- that would make Cameron or Chase or Foreman or any of House’s clinic patients turn their backs and walk away- but Wilson hasn’t been friends with House for over a decade by walking away from him. “You just admitted it was you and the weird prerequisites that you have for your sexual partners!”

“Well, you’ve had three failed marriages and you’re the only common denominator, so are we going to sit here and pretend that I’m the problem in this relationship?”

“I know I’m not perfect, you idiot- we’re both the problem!”

“Listen, Wilson, we’re at work and I’m sure you’ve got a ton of dying bald little freaks to save,” House says with a harsh tap of his cane to the floor for emphasis. 

“You’re fucked up.”

“I know. We both are,” House says and leans down to Wilson’s ear, daring to nip on the lobe. A flash of heat tears through Wilson’s spine. He can’t remember the last time he was so enthralled with someone; was it during his marriages? No, he would’ve remembered. Before House? Or was it always House? He’s so close that Wilson can smell past the cologne he wears and the shampoo he puts in his hair to get the scent of him, just him. Wilson knows his eyes are wide as House whispers in his ear. “Now get back to work. Or, if you’re just going to spend the rest of your shift thinking about me anyway, go home where you can fantasize about what I’m like in bed without getting interrupted.”

House, thinking he’s won this, side-steps as smoothly as he can given his infarction and goes to take another step forward so he can briskly escape this tense situation. Wilson, however, doesn’t intend on letting House escape. He’s always been good at surprising House, which he does yet again when he entangles his fingers in the loose ends of House’s hair and moves closer until they’re chest to chest. He waits for House to push him away, to say something, to tell Wilson that he doesn’t want this for some other stupid reason he’s come up with to push Wilson away for the millionth time.

Silence ensues. House doesn’t speak, just remains perfectly still with his back pin straight and his icy blue eyes trained on Wilson. He’s just holding his breath, watching, waiting for the oncologist to make the next move. Wilson enjoys the moment for what it is; being this close to House and being able to touch him isn’t something he’s ever gotten to partake in. 

House’s hair is peppery in color and a little coarse, and the ends are grown out so he has a couple small curls at the base of his neck. He’s long overdue for a hair cut. Wilson runs his fingers through it and revels in the sensation of his chest against House’s. 

He wonders what it would be like if they were at House’s apartment and not surrounded by the staff of the hospital walking by. He thinks about what this would feel like without the layers of clothes between them. He imagines what House would sound like if they weren’t standing here at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital staring each other down- if they were in House’s queen-sized bed, mouths on each other’s, hands roaming bodies and sweat staining House’s dark blue bed sheets.

“Tell me you don’t love me, or that I’m ugly, or that I have too much baggage. Tell me something- anything- about me that’s so bad that you don’t want this,” Wilson commands. “Tell me that I’ve put on too much weight since my second divorce, that my savior-complex is annoying, that I’m a serial cheater, that I always put your empty cereal boxes back in the pantry after I finish off the bag, anything. Please.”

“It’s not-” House starts with a quizzical expression, only for Wilson to quickly interject.

“Not about you or your fears. Give me a good, valid reason you don’t want me, and I’ll stop. I’ll leave, we can go back to being normal friends- hell, you can choose not to talk to me ever again- and that’ll be the end of it. But I’m not going to walk away knowing that you want me just as much as I want you. I can’t do that to us, House.”

“I…”

House looks anywhere but at Wilson now; the clock on the wall, the cane in his hand, the floor, Wilson’s stupid pink tie. He can’t do it and they both know that. Wilson isn’t surprised. What he is surprised by is how House kisses his forehead so tenderly. Wilson almost doesn’t believe it’s him doing it… and then it’s his nose, and his cheek, and finally, House is kissing him on the lips, slow and sweet.

Wilson hesitantly kisses back. It doesn’t seem real, but it is. It must be real if the large hand squeezing his waist and the stubble brushing against his chin are anything to go off of. He pulls away just enough to whisper against House’s lips.

“We’re at work. Shouldn’t you stop now?”

“Yes,” House breathes, even as he goes in for another kiss, and then another, as if he’ll die without; as if he’s drowning and Wilson is his only source of air. Wilson accepts it, craves it, allows himself to be taken in and kissed until he’s out of breath and his lips are bruised. It quickly escalates into something that he knows he’d get fired for at any other hospital. Briefly, he worries about people walking past and seeing this through the glass door of House’s office until he realizes that he wants them to see. He wants them to see that no, his devotion to House isn’t meaningless- that their relationship does mean something, that House can and will feel love for the right person, and that Wilson is the only one worthy of said love. “I should.”

“But you’re not going to?” Wilson laughs.

“No, I’m not,” House says and dips for another peck between sentences. “Fuck, I don’t think I could stop this even if I wanted to.”

“Then shut the blinds, lock your office door, and bend over the desk.”

~

A couple more weeks pass. Some days, they sleep together. Some days, they don’t. Regardless, things are the same as they always have been minus the sex.

Wilson should be disappointed. He wanted House to open up and he wanted them to connect, to have a real relationship. But right now…

Well, he can’t bring himself to be disappointed when they’re like this, having just finished. 

He’d seen House naked many times before; it’s hard not to when you’re friends with someone for so long. He can’t even count the number of times he’s accidentally walked in on House jerking off or pinned to his couch by some random hooker. He can count the number of times the pain has been so bad that House has needed help with things as basic as getting dressed or getting in and out of the shower. It was never like this, though, with House underneath him, back arching off his bed. The older man’s icy blue eyes are shut with his lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He’s flushed dark pink from his head to the center of his narrow chest, which rapidly rises and falls with every labored breath he takes.

The mattress they’re on is an old, creaky piece of shit that creaks when Wilson carefully rests his weight on top of House. They’re covered in sweat and cum and god knows what else.

“Look at me,” Wilson pleads. House does just that, forcing his eyes open enough to meet Wilson’s. His pupils are blown wide and though it’s clear he’s drowning in their shared pleasure, Wilson can’t read much else. Is House just as enraptured by Wilson as Wilson is by him? Is House hoping he’ll stay after they clean up? “You’re beautiful… So beautiful.”

“And you’re cringeworthy. We’re in my bed, not The Notebook,” House references with a half-hearted roll of his eyes and a playful smack of one hand against Wilson’s shoulder. “So shut up and get off of me.”

Wilson does as told and rolls off of House, onto the bed. He’s learned where House keeps everything so that House can just lie there and let Wilson clean the both of them up on nights like this. They never have sex at Wilson’s as Wilson is living in a hotel following the divorce and has yet to settle into a new place of his own. 

He settles on his side next to House with his head on one of the pillows. There used to be one, but Wilson noticed after the first night he came over to do this, House bought another. Still, he hasn’t asked Wilson to stay the night. Wilson wonders if House even wants him to. Then again, there’s a lot of things he wonders about House. 

Wilson stares at House, who is still on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He already has his boxers back on which makes Wilson self conscious enough to grab his from the floor and put them on as well. 

Wilson wishes he knew what was running through the man’s mind right now. He’s quiet, contemplative, and serious in a way that’s out of character for him. Usually it’s awkward enough that Wilson leaves, and they pretend this never happened (until the next time it happens), but Wilson is growing weary of this cycle they’ve created over the last few weeks. Instead of quickly dressing himself and leaving, he gets back into the bed and pulls one of House’s large blankets over the two of them. House’s eyes widen. His gaze flickers to Wilson; questioning, cautious.

“There’s more I wish I knew about you,” Wilson softly murmurs. “More I wish you’d tell me. Things I’d ask about if I thought I could actually get an honest answer out of you.”

House furrows his brow.

“Like what?”

“Will you answer me honestly?”

“Depends on what you wanna know,” House answers.

Slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, Wilson worms his way between one of House’s arms and his body so he can rest his head on the man’s chest. House tenses at first before relaxing his muscles and wrapping his arm around Wilson’s body to return the affection.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this… A few months ago, you lied to me about that transplant patient- Carly Forlano- you lied to all of us.”

“Who was that again?” House questions. 

Wilson doesn’t know if he’s serious or not.

“That business woman who came in with a ton of problems and ended up in congestive heart failure despite being perfectly healthy. You lied-”

“I like to call it ‘spinning the truth’.”

“So? What was wrong with the patient that met the exclusion criteria for the transplant list anyway? We both know that Chase figured it out and ratted to Vogler and Cuddy during her surgery.”

“She was taking Ipepac,” House says after a long pause, to which Wilson blinks up at him with confusion written on his face.

“You mean she took it once? There’s no way one use would cause that kind of damage to someone so young unless-”

“She said ‘maybe three times a week’. She was bulimic- or, is bulimic- who knows,” House shrugs as much as he can do so considering that Wilson’s weight is on top of him. Still, the expression on his face is unreadable. Wilson remains baffled; why would he lie for her? Why would he take the chance with his medical license by lying like that? Did he have some sort of personal connection with her, or was it just for the sake of solving one of his cases? Just to prove to himself that he was right? “But when bulimics give you a number for the amount they’re purging, it’s usually much more than what they’re actually willing to admit out loud, so I’d bank on it being at least once a day.”

“She’s a smart woman; smart enough to know the kind of damage that could do to her heart, and she did it anyway,” Wilson huffs. He knows everyone copes with stress differently, but he also remembers being very frustrated with that patient while she was in their care. She would use her cell phone during important texting and prioritize her many business calls over her health. Worst of all, she tried to rush herself out of the hospital to get back to work, assuming nothing was seriously wrong and that it was just a random one time health scare at first. If not for the staff’s insistence that she stay, she would’ve died from heart failure. “So why the hell would you grant her the transplant? Better yet, why would you lie to everyone to get her that transplant and risk your job- your medical license? You said you thought you were doing what’s right when we talked about it the first time.”

“I did, because that’s what I thought, and I still think that.”

“Why?”

“Would you believe me if I said I saw a bit of you in that patient?”

At that, Wilson gets off of House and sits up in the bed to stare down at the man, whose expression is unreadable as ever. 

“House, I’m not-”

“I know you’re not bulimic, but you’re great at making the worst possible choices for yourself at every turn and ruining your otherwise very accomplished life. That’s another form of self-harm in itself,” House says, sitting up as well. Wilson doesn’t miss the wince that momentarily takes over the other man’s face as he grabs his leg in pain from performing the motion. “Going into oncology even though it makes you miserable, jumping into three marriages that you knew weren’t going to work out, beating up that guy over a Billy Joel song at a bar during an important medical conference, allowing me to befriend you-”

“-you bailed me out of jail, what was I-”

“Staying as my friend even after the conference, allowing me to seep into your personal life and ruin aspect of it, and better yet, your professional life, too!”

“I still have a job and a good reputation, so-”

“Sure, because you got lucky with Cuddy pulling the plug on Vogler, which you had no way of knowing she would do. If that hadn’t happened, your little gesture of voting to keep me on staff even though you knew you’d get canned too still would’ve played out the way it was supposed to. You would’ve been fucked.”

“And what you’re saying is?” Wilson sighs. 

“Everyone else in my life; they’re sane enough to not want to deal with me the way I am but crazy enough to try and fix me. You, on the other hand, are sane enough to know I can’t be fixed but crazy enough to stay with me anyway. Even though you’ve made the mistake of getting to know me, you’re still here,” Silence. Wilson isn’t sure what to say, so he tentatively reaches out. House holds his hand and intertwines their fingers with a bittersweet smile. “Nothing to say?”

“Well… What’s so bad about knowing you?”

“Being known is simultaneously one of the best and worst things that could happen to someone. When it works out, it’s great, and when it doesn’t work out, it’s not… And let’s not pretend I’m not a huge asshole. It’s a miracle you’re still friends with me after all these years.”

“That’s all it is?” Wilson asks, to which House nods. “I don’t get it, then. We’ve been friends for a long time, House, you know I can take whatever you can dish out… Unless… Are you afraid I’m going to leave?”

“We could be naive enough to sit here and assume that things are always going to be this way; that we’ll always catch each other when we fall, but people fall out of love. People turn their backs, and they let each other fall. People grow and change and before you know it, your best friend becomes a stranger, and you don’t know them like you thought you did,” House drops Wilson’s hand and turns around to toss both of his legs over the side of the bed. Again, he winces from the pain caused by his infarction. It looks like he wants to stand to leave the room for something but can’t gather the strength to do so. “We’ve both had it happen to us before, and you know it’s real. You’ve been through three marriages and I’ve ran through plenty of relationships in the last few decades. You’re just making the worst possible decision for yourself yet again by throwing yourself into the pits with me.”

“But that’s my decision to make. Whether or not we do anything about our feelings doesn’t change them. There’s no stopping this, at least not for me,” Wilson insists and rushes to stand up so he can go around the side of the bed and offer his hands.

House refuses to take them, refuses to accept the help. The older man fumbles around until he manages to retrieve his cane from where he abandoned it on the floor earlier. Instead of using Wilson as leverage, he uses his cane and stands from the bed to walk towards the door of the bedroom. Wilson follows him into the kitchen in wait of a response.

“You’re not scared at all?”

“Of course I’m scared! I’m terrified. I’ve seen our track records with relationships, but… If it means that I get to be with you, I can be scared and still put my best foot forward, to try and make this work. I’m in love with you, Greg House.”

House walks towards the fridge without a word. Again, Wilson follows in wait of a response, this time wrapping his arms around House’s waist and resting his chin on the man’s shoulder from behind.

“You’re persistent.”

“So? You’re going to give me a heart attack if you keep making me wait on you. Seriously, it’s been over a decade of this nonsense with two weeks of confusing sex stacked on top of it,” Wilson scolds. House just looks back at him as if he’s not sure this is real. “So? What do you say?” “I say… I’m in love with you too, James Wilson,” House chuckles, reaches into the fridge, and grabs a beer for each of them with a large grin. “Good luck.”

#hilson #house md #house fanfiction #house x wilson #housemd #gregory house #james wilson x gregory house #greg house x james wilson #james wilson x greg house #james wilson #fanfiction #oneshot #oneshots #drabble #drabbles

[sentinelpri]

Just A Prank

James Wilson finds himself flustered as he leans against the wall of the diagnostics conference room with two pairs of eyes piercing right through him; one dark blue and one dark brown. Chase sits on the edge of the large table while Foreman sits in House’s spinning chair. Cameron, who would usually put a stop to what is currently going on, is out sick with a stomach bug she caught from a patient, and House is… Well, House. It’s over half past noon but Wilson figures House will show up some time in the next hour

With the rare dynamic of just Chase, Foreman, and Wilson, odd things are bound to happen; such as Chase suggesting that Wilson randomly kiss House as some sort of… Prank. Were it anyone else being asked to do this, Wilson might encourage it. House isn’t used to any displays of affection these days, let alone used to being caught off guard by them, so someone walking up and kissing the guy without any warning would elicit a pretty good reaction. But Chase is insisting that he, James Wilson, be the one to do it- not Cameron or Foreman or Chase himself, because apparently, that would be wrong. No, it just has to be Wilson.

“And I have to be the one to do this because…?” 

“Kissing someone without their consent isn’t something that most people take kindly to,” Foreman points out.

“And you think he would take kindly to me doing it?” Wilson asks. “Also, I have to point out that it’s really not fair or correct to lump House into the category of ‘most people’.”

“I don’t think he’d ‘take kindly’ to it, per se, but you two already treat each other like that all the time,” Chase argues with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Weird pranks, crossing boundaries, doing things to each other that would normally be friendship ending… It’d just be a normal Tuesday for the two of you.”

“That… Is still totally inappropriate. I mean, romantic fraternization with other hospital employees. It’s technically against hospital policy. Everyone might’ve encouraged the date with Cameron, but that’s a little different than me just going up to the guy and kissing him,” Wilson continues, his face burning bright red.

On a normal day, he’s not so easy to read or so easy to embarrass, but he’s never been able to help it when it comes to House. The thought of kissing the man he’s been in love with since 1999 makes his head spin. He shouldn’t even entertain the thought, but with the ‘prank’ that Chase is suggesting, he does sort of have an excuse…

“What, like he’s gonna report you to Cuddy? If you don’t wanna do it, that’s fine, but at least make your excuse a believable one,” Foreman scoffs. “You know as well as we do that the man wouldn’t report someone to her unless they stole his Vicodin. Anything else is fair game to House.”

At that, Wilson stumbles over himself and nearly hits the floor. He doesn’t know what to say. With a sharp breath, he sits in the chair across from where Chase is on the tabletop and crosses his arms over his chest.

“That may be true, but-”

“And c’mon, it’ll be priceless!” Chase laughs with a mischievous grin. Part of Wilson wants to laugh along with him. The other half of him wants to reach across the conference room table and smack Chase in the head for coming up with something so stupid (and so tempting). “Don’t you want to see his face?”

“I can’t imagine how pissed he would be, so no, not really,” Wilson crosses his arms. He can feel his own gaze darting around the room, probably to avoid making eye contact with Foreman and Chase. “Where the hell did you two even get this idea?”

Wilson nervously paces the room, running his hands through his wavy brown hair. 

“It wasn’t my idea,” Foreman quickly spits out, dark brown eyes shooting to Chase, who offers a shrug in return.

“What can I say? I was thinking of more ways to screw with House and it was something that came to mind. I’d argue it’s one of my best ones yet.”

Wilson wants to do it. He’s been looking for an excuse to cross that line with House for years. He shouldn’t, because once he does it, there’s a chance he’ll never be able to go back. Better yet, there’s a chance Wilson will kiss House only for the older man not to give a shit anyways. That’s arguably the worst case scenario. Wilson knows that, if it were to happen, he wouldn’t be able to look House in the eye afterwards. Then, House would know. It would be a nightmare.

No matter how badly Wilson wants to grasp at this opportunity, he’s well aware it could backfire. He gathers what’s left of his willpower to refuse.

“No,” Wilson says, shaking his head.

He hopes that’ll be the end of it. Chase, however, remains persistent.

“Look, if Foreman and I aren’t enough to convince you, how about this? I’ll cover your clinic hours for a month.”

“I’m not House- I don’t mind working in the clinic and I’m caught up on my hours. It’s actually a nice reprieve from my day to day.”

With a sigh, Chase reaches into his wallet and pulls out two bills. He holds them out to Wilson. Foreman holds his head in his hands with an exasperated expression.

“...If covering your clinic hours isn’t enough to convince you, how about two hundred dollars?”

Wilson is an oncologist who makes hundreds of thousands of dollars a year. His debt from medical school is already paid off and he lives a comfortable life despite the three divorces and subsequent alimony payments he’s wracked up. Yet, with Chase so determined to convince him… No one can say he jumped at the opportunity to do this. House will probably just laugh it off- find it hilarious- love that someone was playing him at his own game by pulling a prank so inappropriate and controversial. It’ll be fine, and if it does go to shit, he can just pin the blame on Chase for coming up with the idea in the first place.

So, against his better judgment, Wilson agrees.

“Fine.”

He reaches out to take the money from Chase’s hand and shoves it into the front pocket of his white coat. 

“Where do you think he’s at, anyway? He’s usually late, but not this late,” Foreman stands and gestures to the clock on the wall. It’s already almost one in the afternoon. 

Knowing him, he’s probably in the cafeteria. He doesn’t have any cases today, so he showed up late to avoid clinic duty and made sure to time it so he wouldn’t get here until the start of his lunch break. He’s just using it to find out where Cuddy is so he can avoid her for the rest of his shift since she can’t make him work during his scheduled break,” Wilson explains. “If I were you guys, I wouldn’t count on seeing him much today.”

“Oh, I know we don’t have any cases, I didn't want to see him for work purposes. I’ve just gotta be there for the big moment,” Chase says while excitedly gathering his things so he can stand and head towards the door. “Well? What are we standing here for? Let’s go; to the cafeteria!”

“You know if he figures out you’re behind this, he’s going to have you covering his clinic hours and shining his shoes for the next year, right?” Foreman chuckles.

“Wait,” Wilson’s eyes flicker between Foreman and Chase, who are now standing by the door and peering back as if they’re waiting for him to join them. “You- you want me to go do this right now?”

“Yeah, duh,” Chase answers. “Now let’s go!”

Chase and Foreman both leave the conference room. Wilson, too stunned to respond, takes a moment to catch up and follow them to the cafeteria. When they arrive, it’s easy to spot House. The man is six foot two and gorgeous, so Wilson manages to pick him out of the crowd in seconds. 

House walks by himself in the middle of the cafeteria with a tray of food lazily held in one hand and his cane in the other. His narrow shoulders are adorned with one of the many t-shirts he’s stolen from Wilson and his favorite leather jacket. Wilson’s heart skips a beat when House smiles. The man is probably thinking about some interaction he’s had today where he’s fucked with someone- just for the fun of it. Wilson hates that he’s so in love with that antagonistic side of House, hates that he’s head over heels for House despite years of the older man meddling in his personal life, pulling shitty pranks on him, teasing him, and generally screwing with him at each and every turn.

Maybe this prank isn’t such a good idea. But, as nervous as Wilson is, even he can admit that House deserves to be the one being messed with for once.

“Oh, do you see him?” Foreman says.

“I do,” Chase pipes up and nudges Wilson’s side with his elbow. “Well, what are you waiting for? That money wasn’t for nothing- go for it!”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. You owe me twice as much if he starts beating me with his cane for pulling this crap while we’re at work,” Wilson grumbles.

He breaks away from Chase and Foreman and goes up to House, who catches his eye and offers a smile. Wilson forces himself to smile back as House meets him in the middle of the cafeteria with his tray still in hand. 

“Hey, Wilson,” House greets, a twinkle in his icy blue eyes. Wilson swallows the lump in his throat and stares back at his friend, who shamelessly eyes him up and down. “What, cat got your tongue? Or did you swallow sandpaper? Seriously, the face you’re making right now makes you look like a constipated-!”

Before House can finish, Wilson goes for it. He places his hands on House’s shoulders, screws his eyes shut, and gently presses his lips into House’s. The other man’s mouth tastes like coffee and Vicodin. It’s a bitter and terrible combination, but it’s House, and Wilson realizes that this may be the only chance he gets to experience it. He commits it to memory, savors it, loves it as if it’s the man himself.

Wilson expects House to pull away. It doesn’t happen. 

Fine enough- he figures it’s out of shock, and that House will pull away in a few moments. Wilson is proven wrong when he hears House’s lunch tray clatter to the floor. Surely then, House should retract to pick up the mess. Again, it doesn’t happen. 

His cane falls right after the tray, and Wilson gets ready to move, but he finds himself frozen in place when House grips him by the collar and drags him in to deepen the kiss. He moves his mouth against Wilson’s, chapped lips consuming the oncologist’s softer ones. 

Wilson is snapped out of it when he hears gasps and whispers in the cafeteria. He jerks back so he can look up at House. There’s no mirror around, but if there were, Wilson is sure he would see that his face has paled with horror. He can’t so much as make eye contact with House.

And for a moment, House appears smug; shit-eating grin, raised eyebrows, and that familiar darkness that takes over his gaze when he feels like he’s won something. However, that smugness is quickly washed away when House scans Wilson’s face. 

“It-” Wilson stutters, unsure of how to explain what he was doing or why he was doing it. Unsure of how to react to House kissing him. Unsure of why House kissed him back at all, but especially unsure of why House kissed him back so fast. He barely manages to force out the breathless words his brain jumbles together in its panicked state. “It was just a prank. Chase, he- he thought it would be a good way to mess with you, paid me two hundred dollars. I’ll give you the money, if you want…?”

The initial disappointment that laced House’s expression just seconds before transitions into hardened anger; the kind of ice-cold rage that he so brilliantly displays whenever he feels like he’s been betrayed by someone he trusted. It makes sense. Even in his anxious state, Wilson is thinking rationally enough to know he deserves it and should’ve expected it. After all, House has never taken well to any form of embarrassment. 

Without saying so much as a word, House retrieves his cane and swiftly turns to exit the cafeteria, leaving Wilson to pick up the mess of his lunch tray while everyone else stares holes into him.

~

The next day, Wilson is an anxious mess. He went to House’s office multiple times after lunch yesterday and couldn’t find the man. He called and sent multiple texts, and each and every one was ignored whether it was to House’s office phone, flip phone, or pager. He hasn’t been able to find House in any of the clinic rooms, in the conference room that the diagnostics team uses, or in any of the staff offices including his own, but he knows House is there as the team is apparently working on a new case. House has just done a masterful job of avoiding him specifically.

Wilson quickly comes to the conclusion that House is angry; justifiably so. On top of being kissed in a group full of their patients and colleagues, Wilson also accidentally rejected him in front of said people by jerking away from House’s kiss as if it were the plague and loudly announcing that his initiating of the kiss was just a prank. It’s a miracle the man didn’t quit on the spot and move across the country following that kind of humiliation, because Wilson knows he would have if it were him.

Wilson feels awful about it. All he wants to do is get a hold of House so they can talk in person and clear up this misunderstanding. House put himself out there by kissing Wilson back, pretty much confessed his feelings as eloquently as he could without using actual words, and Wilson went and fucked it up with his panicked response. 

The brunette is sitting in his office stewing about the kiss; partially wishing he hadn’t done it in the first place, partially praying for it to happen again. He has a thousand things he should be doing instead; writing a speech for an upcoming conference, emailing patients, looking at lab results for said patients, scheduling consults. Sadly, all he can focus on is House and how badly he wants to find the diagnostician and confess his feelings before this situation can get any worse. 

Poor Cameron returned to work today and is clearly uncomfortable with the tension, Chase is amused by the whole thing to an annoying degree, and Foreman is so clearly fed up with all of them. Wilson wishes things would go back to normal- or at least not be like this any longer. It’s only been one day and he’s already exhausted by it.

He has a lunch tray sitting in front of him with a bag of chips and a scrambled egg bowl that he’s hardly picked at. In front of him also sits his laptop, which is opened to show his emai inbox. Before Wilson can start sifting through said emails, the glass door to his office is slammed open so hard he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter and break. He looks up to see House, who angrily hobbles in.

If the situation weren’t so tense, he’d find the whole thing comical; House’s evident anger, House’s childish avoidance of him, the fact that they kissed in the middle of the cafeteria.

“So, it was just a prank,” House says, his tone accusatory.

“Uh,” Wilson nods, takes a sip from his water bottle, and clears his throat. “Yeah. Why did you kiss me back?”

“Well,” House scoffs, eyes darting around the room. He stands in front of Wilson’s desk and impatiently taps his cane against the floor; something he does when he’s trying to come up with an excuse for something. As per usual when he’s been rejected or perceives a discussion as a conflict, he goes on the defensive. “Obviously, I was just playing into the bit. That’s all it was, right? A joke?”

“House, you don’t have to lie. The cat’s out of the bag for both of us now so it’s honestly kind of embarrassing for you to-”

“Now give me the chips on your tray,” House huffs and walks behind Wilson’s desk to stand right next to where he’s sitting. He snatches the chip bag off of the lunch tray in front of Wilson but remains standing so close that Wilson can smell the sandalwood laundry detergent he uses wafting off of his outfit. “I’ve got a case to work on, and this one isn’t a cancer patient, so it has nothing to do with you.”

“But I-” Wilson objects in hopes that House will listen to him enough for them to talk this through, only to quickly be interrupted.

“One more thing,” House pauses.

Wilson is optimistic that they’ll finally get to talk like he’s been wanting. Instead, House puts the chips down, grabs Wilson by the tie, and yanks him up for a kiss. Wilson barely has the time to register the taste of toothpaste and breath mints prior to House pulling away and taking the chip bag back from the desk.

“What the hell-”

“Oh, sorry about that! Try not to get your hopes up or anything,” House says in a mocking tone and feigns a pitying expression as he briskly heads towards the glass door with his cane in one hand and Wilson’s stolen chip bag in the other. “After all, it was just a prank.”

And then, House is gone.

Wilson slumps down into his office chair and lets out a long, heavy sigh. As tempting as it is, it’s best not to chase after House in the middle of the hospital- the jackass will embarrass him someway, somehow. His dark brown eyes land on his now half-empty lunch tray, and then on his open laptop.

“Fucking breath mints… He planned to catch me off guard by coming in here and pulling that, didn’t he? …God, I’ve got so much to do.”

~

Another day passes with no progress. Wilson was hoping the situation would smooth itself out naturally, but it seems as if House is still equally as pissed as he was the afternoon Wilson kissed him in the cafeteria, so he decides he’ll simply have to find House and sort it out himself. 

Wilson knows better than to try and do this honestly. House raged and ran out on him at the hospital the other day, and then avoided him and treated him like shit yesterday. Every call and every text from Wilson has been ignored while House’s team says he’s still responding to them as usual.

So, Wilson brings a box with him to House’s apartment complex. He knocks on House’s door, sets the box down, and quickly hides a few feet away to avoid being seen through House’s peephole. The moment House opens the door to retrieve the surprise ‘package’, Wilson approaches. House quickly scoffs and tries to retreat inside to shut the door, but before he can pull it all the way closed, Wilson blocks it with his foot.

“Nice trick, Jimmy. If I weren’t filled with such unbridled rage and disdain for you right now, I might be impressed. Did you forget you have a spare key?”

“Okay, House,” Wilson starts. He doesn’t bother acknowledging House’s quip about the spare key that was, in fact, forgotten on his keychain. “You’ve been avoiding me and I think we’re just a tad overdue for a nice, long talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about? You kissed me and I kissed you back. You’re not stupid, Wilson,” House rolls his eyes. Realizing that Wilson isn’t going to give up, House swings the door open and stares down at him. Wilson shrinks into himself. While House’s face doesn’t betray his emotions, his hands certainly do. One of them is gripping the doorknob so hard that his knuckles are burning white, while the other is braced against the wall his cane is propped up on. He’s upset; angry, still. “You know how I feel now. There’s no need for an exchange of words.”

“W-Well, I-”

“I can’t even be mad at you, you know. That’s the worst part,” House rambles. Without any indication that he’s going to do so, he storms into his living room, leaving the door wide open. Wilson takes it as an invitation and slinks into the apartment where he shuts the door behind him and takes his shoes off at the entryway. House continues his rant and plops down onto his brown leather couch. “Going and kissing someone as a prank- if I would’ve been in your shoes with Chase telling me to do something like that, I would’ve done it to fuck with you without getting paid. I would’ve jumped at the idea, reveled in it, found it fucking hilarious!”

Wilson blinks, still standing awkwardly in the middle of House’s entryway. 

“Then why are you so mad?”

“Because I loved it! I stood there and made out with you like a teenager in the middle of the cafeteria,” House pauses, shakes his head, and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. “...And I loved it. You know I haven’t been able to solve the case we got yesterday morning because of you? Chase solved it before I did! All because I’ve been letting my brain rot by using it to replay that moment over and over again, thinking of what I could’ve done differently to save myself that kind of embarrassment. I kissed you back, only for the whole thing to be a fucked up joke. Do you know how that feels?”

“You’re saying all of this as if I didn’t also enjoy it,” Wilson spits. To his utter dismay and frustration, House’s icy blue eyes narrow in suspicion. The damn idiot doesn’t believe a word he’s saying; the kiss, the prank, it’s broken the trust that they so blindly had in each other before it happened. It’s turned their entire world upside down. “Seriously, House, you think I would’ve kissed you for enough money even if I really didn’t want to do it?”

“I don’t know what to think,” House whispers, low, almost as if he’s talking to himself. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at the ground. His cane is haphazardly dropped on the floor in front of his bare feet. “I never thought you’d kiss someone at your job like that, much less me, and yet…”

“I’d kiss you in front of just about anyone if you’d let me. Maybe I just like you that much,” Wilson offers. He manages to muster up a smile along with the courage to look House in the eye again. As House stops to process what he’s just said, Wilson slowly walks over and sits next to him on the couch. “And… Maybe the prank was an excuse to kiss you, just to see what it’d be like. I never imagined you’d reciprocate. I panicked and didn’t know what to do because I was caught off guard. Before I did it, I mulled it over and came to the conclusion you’d find the whole thing hilariously disgusting, assume it was just for the money, and we’d never talk about it again. I guess I only got one of those things right.”

“Your deduction skills aren’t the best. They never have been,” House snarks. The anger seems to leave his body as he deeply inhales and exhales. His arms fall into his lap, and much to Wilson’s relief, he smiles back. “At first, I hoped it was a genuine gesture. It’s out of character for you to act out something so dramatic in public, but I’ve felt this way for such a long time that I got my hopes up, so when you panicked… Well, I’m sure you get it.”

“Yeah,” Wilson nods and reaches out to hold one of House’s hands. Surprisingly, it’s the first time they’ve done this, but House intertwines their fingers as if it’s natural for them. Wilson could get used to the warmth that comes from House’s calloused thumb gently stroking the back of his hand. “I think I do, but… It was wrong of me to agree to do that in the middle of the cafeteria for my own selfish reasons. I should’ve manned up and told you how I felt on my own instead of using that stupid prank Chase came up with as an excuse to kiss you and gauge your reaction.”

“I’m not going to deny that. Still, though, are we going to sit here and pretend like I didn’t deserve it to some extent? I know I’ve run you through the wringer for a long time, Wilson,” House laughs and leans back into the couch, eyes now trained on the ceiling above them. “I’m sure the sadistic part of you that you refuse to admit is there got some sort of satisfaction out of making me miserable for a day or two.”

“Not really,” Wilson chuckles. House is staring at him now. It looks like he wants something- maybe like he wants Wilson to say something specific- but Wilson isn’t sure what it is. “I wanted to shock you, maybe, not make you scorch-the-earth pissed for two days. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Well,” House smirks, icy blue eyes flickering to Wilson’s lips and then back up to meet the brunette’s gaze. “I do have one idea, but I’m afraid you may not be comfortable doing it without an audience; say, a cafeteria full of our patients and coworkers.”

Wilson scoffs and rolls his eyes, a fond smile taking over his face. He scoots closer to House and places his spare hand on the man’s thigh.

“Fortunately for you, I’m afraid you’re wrong- and yes, you are capable of being wrong.”

“Really? Then prove it.”

“Fine.”

With that, Wilson leans in and kisses House once again, the two men struggling not to grin against each other’s lips.

#james wilson #greg house x james wilson #gregory house #james wilson x gregory house #hilson fanfiction #hilson #house fanfiction #house x wilson #housemd #house md #oneshot #oneshots #drabble #drabbles

[sentinelpri]

Love Strategist

Shikamaru Nara hates going on missions without his best friend, Chouji Akimichi. The large man lightens the mood and makes Shikamaru laugh. Additionally, he’s a comforting and reassuring presence when things go wrong, and he contributes a lot. Not having him there bothers Shikamaru greatly as he treks through the land of snow with his other teammate, Ino Yamanaka, by his side. 

Another reason he hates not having Chouji on missions? Because, more often than not, when Chouji isn’t there, Shikamaru ends up being paired with exclusively Ino- who he is embarrassingly, stupidly in love with while she is none the wiser and insists on chasing after guys like Sasuke who want nothing to do with her. Just as his father predicted, Shikamaru has fallen in love with a stubborn, headstrong, beautiful woman.

Shikamaru wishes his father had been wrong.

Of course, Chouji just had to come down with the stomach bug that’s been going around right before they were about to leave. Shikamaru and Ino managed to complete the mission by themselves, but with Asuma dead and without Chouji there to act as a familiar buffer between the two of them, things are… Awkward.

Shikamaru feels uncomfortable… And a little sick, too. Part of him thinks he must’ve caught the bug if his current nausea and hot head are anything to go by. Even with the snow falling on them, he’s burning hot.

“Shika, are you good?” Ino suddenly asks. Shikamaru glances over at her. They’re walking side by side, and much to his dismay, Ino is somehow even more beautiful than she was yesterday. The hood of her winter cloak is down and revealing her long, blond hair. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose are dyed red from the cold. Long, blond lashes adorn her baby blue eyes, and said lashes are littered in the snowflakes that continue to fall from the sky. Shikamaru’s heart throbs. “Hey, did you hear me?”

“Oh,” Shikamaru says. He tries his best to swallow his nausea to no avail. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it. Just tired.”

“If you say so…” Ino trails off, clearly not convinced but also not wanting to press him any further.

Shikamaru lets out a sigh of relief, only to find himself dropping to the ground and vomiting into the snow after a few more seconds of walking. Ino immediately kneels by his side and puts a hand on his back, her expression laced with concern. 

Shikamaru can’t stand it. He can’t stand how beautiful she is, can’t stand how smart she is, can’t stand how caring she is. Admiring and loving someone so strongly makes him want to fly into the sun and get burnt into a fucking crisp. Alas, he doesn’t have the ability to fly, so he’s stuck on the ground with Ino rubbing his back as he pukes his guts out.

“Shikamaru! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” He lies through gritted teeth. 

“You’re puking, and you’re burning up,” Ino frowns upon putting a hand on Shikamaru’s forehead to check his temperature. “You don’t look fine!”

“Get off my back, would you?” Both because he doesn’t want Ino to baby him and because there’s nothing left in his stomach for him to get rid of, Shikamaru wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, stands up, and continues walking. “I said I’m fine.”

“Jeez, what’s up with you? You’ve been really on edge these last few days,” Ino presses as she follows after him. “Is it because you’re not feeling good?”

“Do I really need to tell you again?” Shikamaru snaps, to which Ino blinks in surprise. He feels somewhat guilty, but at the same time, she can’t be allowed to figure out the truth. It’ll ruin their friendship and everything else that their team has worked so hard to build. “I said I’m fine, Ino, drop it.”

“Shika, you’re clearly unwell!” Ino grabs Shikamaru by the shoulder and forces him to stop in place. “You need to rest.”

“I hate to pull rank on you, but I’m the one in charge here in case you’ve forgotten, Ino,” Shikamaru argues back and pushes Ino’s hands away from him. “And we need to make it back to the village as soon as possible to give the mission report to Lady Tsunade.”

At that, Ino jabs a finger into his chest and glares up at him. 

“You know, for as lazy as you are, you-”

“I know, I know,” Shikamaru steps out of Ino’s way and walks off to continue their trek, only for Ino to stand in front of him again. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Shikamaru,” Ino threatens, a warning tone to her voice. “Don’t make me take care of you by force. You know I will!”

She’s in his face, her nose almost pressing against his nose. Shikamaru can count her individual eyelashes and see the breaths that come out of her mouth fog up when they’re exposed to the cold air. More than anything, he wants to just lean in and kiss her already, but he doesn’t. Instead, he dodges her and storms off to a more heavily forested area a few feet away.

“God, you’re stubborn,” Shikamaru complains with a roll of his eyes. “Fine. Set up camp and we can rest here. Then, when I’m feeling better, we can continue enroute back to the village.”

“Finally!” Ino cheers as she puts their tent- that they’ve been having to share, alone- together and starts up a fire for them to boil some of their rations over. “See, was that so hard?”

“Harder than you’d think…”

The two quickly get settled with the tent set up, their rations cooked, and their sleeping bags laid out- side by side, uncomfortably close in the small confines of that stupid tent- and dressed down into weather-appropriate sleepwear. Shikamaru is afraid that, if he dares to eat, it’ll make him throw up even more, so he doesn’t despite Ino’s nagging. He lies on top of his sleeping bag instead of under it because of how bad his fever starts to get.

“Here,” Ino says as she crawls into the tent and places a washcloth doused in cold water over Shikamaru’s forehead. She kneels beside where he lays, looking like an angel. Shikamaru turns his head away. He hates that, since the mission is over, one of them doesn’t have to keep watch anymore. They just have to sleep next to each other like it isn’t weird. With Chouji there, it wouldn’t be weird, but with just the two of them, it definitely is. He can’t stand it. “Try to get some rest now, alright?”

“Yeah… Alright.”

~

When Ino and Shikamaru return from the mission, Shikamaru feels better- one, because he’s not sick anymore, and two, because he’ll get a break from Ino for a bit. The first thing he does is go to visit Chouji, who has apparently recovered from his illness as well. The other teen’s parents aren’t home, so the two of them sit on Chouji’s bed together, sharing a bag of chips as they talk candidly about everything that’s happened since they last saw each other.

The first sign there is of a lull in conversation, though, Shikamaru takes the opportunity to vent.

“Chouji,” Shikamaru starts.

“Yeah?”

“I’m in love with Ino.”

“...Yeah?” Chouji hums between bites of his snack and tilts his head, then shrugs. “I probably could’ve guessed. You don’t hide it very well. I mean, most people can’t get a read on you, so it’s not apparent to everyone, but it has been to me for a good amount of time.”

“Glad to know I’m that obvious about it,” Shikamaru scoffs.

“Why are you bringing it up now? Haven’t you felt this way for a while?”

“Yes, but the problem is that I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Well, Shika, you’re the strategist in the group. Surely you’ve got some sort of idea! …Right?”

“Not really. I’m a battle strategist, not a… Love strategist,” Shikamaru awkwardly says, and it’s true. He was never interested in romance when he was younger, and after his promotion to Chunin- and then to Jonin- he’s been so busy that he hardly has the time to think about it. “I’ve never even been on a date before.”

“Well, buddy, I’m in the same boat as you, so I’m not gonna be much help,” Chouji admits. “But why not just tell her?”

“Because things will change,” Shikamaru answers after thinking about it for a moment. “Whether she rejects my feelings or accepts them, things will be different for the rest of our lives… And we won’t be able to go back to the way things were before. Once you cross that line, there’s no pretending that it never happened, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that sort of change.”

“Dramatic take… Is change such a terrible thing to you?”

“We’ve been going through a lot of that lately,” Shikamaru answers in reference to the conflicts with the Akatsuki, Asuma’s death, Kurenai’s pregnancy, and everything else that’s happened since Naruto’s return to Konoha.

“Things could always be worse. I think… It’s better to tell her, even if it changes things. With everything going on right now, any of us could die at any time.”

“So you’re saying I should tell her because it’s better to not have any regrets on the off chance that one of us dies soon? Isn’t that a little dark?”

“Maybe, but it’s also realistic,” Chouji counters.

It’s quiet for a moment, but then, Shikamaru hears noise- and voices… Familiar voices; Chouza, Inoichi, and Shikaku, all in the kitchen chatting away.

“I guess I should-” Shikamaru pauses, realizing just how thin the walls are. If he can hear all of their parents chatting away just one room over… They must be able to hear Shikamaru and Chouji, too. “Wait, I thought you said your parents weren’t home?”

“Huh?” Chouji stops mid-chew to listen to the noise, then lets out a nervous laugh. “Oh, I guess dad must’ve come in a bit ago! I didn’t hear him.”

“Oh, God… How long have they been here? Do you think they heard us?”

“Probably,” Chouji shrugs again. “Want the last one?”

“Sure, I guess.”

So, Shikamaru takes the last chip and eats it before nervously slipping out of Chouji’s room. When he walks out to the kitchen, which he has to cross through to make it to the front door. Shikaku, Inoichi, and Chouza are all there. They go silent upon Shikamaru’s entrance and look at the ravenette as if they’re all struggling not to burst out into laughter.

“Please tell me you didn’t just…” Shikamaru cautiously starts, unsure of what to say.

“We did,” Shikaku answers with a chuckle.

“Wow, okay, uh-”

“Not that we didn’t already know, but if you’re going to ask my daughter out, at least take her to dinner, will you?” Inoichi demands. It’s a better reaction than Shikamaru could’ve expected- he knows the head of the Yamanaka clan has high expectations for his daughter, so he was partially expecting to have the shit beat out of him (or tortured out of him considering the man’s profession). This awkward, unsolicited advice is a much better alternative. “And buy her flowers!”

“Um… Okay, I guess,” Shikamaru nods in agreement, to which all three laugh at him. “Thanks for the advice?”

“You’re welcome.”

With that, Shikamaru leaves, both relieved and confused.

Days pass. After a while of debating between not saying anything at all and just letting the cat out of the bag, Shikamaru decided on the latter, as he figures someone else will let it slip if he doesn’t do it first. He reminds himself that the worst she can do is say no and act weird about it for the rest of their lives.

Yeah… Not too bad, right?

The ravenette makes his way to Ino and her family’s flower shop, knowing that Ino is working the register and should be getting off any minute now. He enters the building to see Ino at the counter, seemingly writing down that day’s orders. Upon noticing Shikamaru’s presence, Ino sets her pen down and walks out from behind the register to come up and talk to him.

“Shika, what brings you here? You need something?”

“Do you maybe want to go to dinner tonight?” He asks, averting his eyes. He feels like his face is on fire as Ino stares back at him. “I was thinking we could grab Korean barbecue.”

“Oh, sure! Chouji will be happy about that,” Ino happily answers, to which Shikamaru can’t help but wince. 

“Uh, actually, it’ll just be the two of us… If you don’t mind.”

“Really? What’s got Chouji so busy that he can’t come?”

“He’s… Hanging out with his dad,” Shikamaru quickly lies, knowing that Chouji will cover for him if asked about it- and also too embarrassed to explain upfront that he wants this to be a date.

“Huh… That sucks,” Ino answers, then shrugs and walks back to the register. “Anyway, yeah, I can come. I’m actually about to trade out with mom, so just give me a couple minutes and we can go if you’re ready.”

Shikamaru swallows, then nods.

“Sure.”

~

So, Shikamaru and Ino walk to the local barbecue restaurant, side by side. Normally, Chouji would be between them, but this time he’s not. Months ago, Asuma would’ve been there, too, walking on the outside of the group to ‘protect’ them from anyone on the street and urging them to walk on the sidewalk as if they were children. Shikamaru finds himself tearing up thinking about that, but he quickly blinks the tears away before Ino can notice and glances over at her to make sure she hasn’t. Thankfully, she’s still talking about her day at work- something about a customer who got mad that she wouldn’t take a pile of counterfeit money as payment for an expensive order of flowers.

“And it was so clearly fake! I mean, the color was off, the print was blurry, and the texture was all wrong- you’d have to be an idiot not to see it,” Ino rants, her normally pale cheeks cherry red. It seems like she’s getting amped up retelling the story, and Shikamaru can’t help but smile at how cute it is. “It was pretty insulting, especially when the guy had the gall to act like I was the idiot for thinking it was fake. He must’ve been from out of town or something because he had no idea that I’m a ninja based on how he tried to snatch one of the bouquets out of my hand like a jackass and make a run from it. I mean, seriously? Who robs a flower shop for anything but the money in the register?”

“I don’t know, you’d be pretty surprised at how stupid people can be sometimes, especially when they’re from out of town. They just can’t get away with shit here that they can in the civilian sectors of The Land of Fire. You know how different it is the further out we go from here,” Shikamaru pitches back in reference to the travel they’ve done to civilian villages and cities during some of their missions. “But what happened to the guy, anyway?”

“What do you think happened? I took the bouquet back and dragged him to the correctional facility.”

“Huh… Not surprised, but I doubt they’ll keep him there if he’s a civilian. Those guys would rip him to shreds.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Ino laughs, and with that, they fall into a comfortable silence for the rest of the walk.

Shikamaru can’t help but sigh. He stares at Ino, who continues walking next to him. She’s seemingly unaware of how he’s practically staring holes into her hands. He wants to reach out and hold one but fears that he’d either get punched in the face or receive a simple ‘ew, no’. He actually isn’t sure which would be worse. For all he knows, it could be both.

It’s odd because while Shikamaru is much closer to Ino than he would usually be, he isn’t satisfied with it. He wants to be closer, and the more he thinks about it, the more tense he becomes. Part of him regrets asking her to dinner in the first place. How’s he supposed to tell her the truth? On the flip side, how is he supposed to sit and eat with her for the next hour without absolutely losing his mind? What if he screws it up- or what if he does everything right and she still rejects him?

By the time they walk into the restaurant and get a table, Shikamaru is practically boiling over with anxiety. His Jonin vest and the blue shirt underneath it feel a little too tight, there’s sweat forming on his hairline and forehead, and his chest hurts. Ino sits across from him at the table they’re given and after a few moments pass, Shikamaru realizes she’s staring at him very intently.

“What is it, Ino? Did I do something?”

“Uh, your order…”

At that, Shikamaru blinks, then turns to see that a waiter is standing there. The poor man probably asked for his food and drink order god knows how long ago, and Shikamaru was too distracted to notice.

“Oh, shit. Sorry, man,” Shikamaru apologizes. He’d thought about trying something new today, but instead opts to order the first thing that comes to mind so he can end this awkward social situation. “I’ll just take a water and, uh… The short rib special. Thanks.”

“Awesome, thank you,” The waiter says and writes Shikamaru’s order down, but instead of leaving, he just stands there and clears his throat.

“The menu! Hand him your menu,” Ino whisper-yells from across the table.

Shikamaru grabs his menu and goes to hand it to the waiter, only for it to fall on the floor. It takes everything in him not to slam his head into the nearest wall as the waiter retrieves the menu and scurries away from their table.

 “Shika, what the hell is wrong with you?” Ino demands and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Huh?” Shikamaru tilts his head in feigned confusion.

Much to his dismay, Ino doesn’t buy it for so much as a second. Rather, she shoots a suspicious, accusatory glare in his direction and raises her voice at him.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, you-”

“I’m in love with you,” Shikamaru spits, the words tumbling out faster than his brain can process them.

“What?” Ino asks, eyes wide.

Shikamaru debates on trying to take it back- on trying to play it off and lie like he always has, but he knows it won’t work- not now, not after he’s already told her the truth. So, he decides to be honest.

“I said, I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time,” Shikamaru explains. “It’s been bothering me more lately, I guess. That’s why I’ve been acting off… And that’s also why I asked you to dinner tonight… So I could confess. Chouji wasn’t with his dad or anything, I just wanted it to be the two of us.”

“...Oh.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a lot to process!” Ino exclaims. “I didn’t think you were capable of feeling anything romantic like that!”

“Ouch,” Shikamaru says with a grimace. Right then, the waiter brings their drinks and meat platters to the table. “Thanks.”

Shikamaru sips on his water and ignores the plate of ribs he’s been given as well as the piping hot table grill that sits between him and Ino. She ignores the food for the time being as well- not that Shikamaru can blame her given the realization she’s just had about his feelings.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just, well-” Ino continues, seemingly flustered. Shikamaru’s heart skips a beat. “I love you, too.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Ino. If you don’t feel the same way, it’s fine,” Shikamaru sighs as he tries to put up the most casual act he can muster. In hindsight, he probably should’ve gone with ‘I like you’ instead of ‘I’m in love with you’ to avoid coming on as strong as he did. “We can just pretend this never happened and go back to being friends like we always were-”

“Don’t insult me by acting like I don’t know how I feel,” Ino insists. “I wouldn’t have said it if it weren’t true.”

Shikamaru glances up in disbelief, and to his surprise, finds no sign of dishonesty in Ino’s face. She meets his eyes and smiles at him.

“Oh.”

“So,” Ino starts as she places a piece of the skirt steak she ordered on the grill and watches it sizzle. Shikamaru mimics the action with his own food. “How long have you felt that way?”

“Uh, I dunno… It’s been a while though. You?”

“Couple years,” Ino shrugs, her cheeks dusted light red. “Sometime after Sasuke went rogue, I stopped and thought about everything… I really evaluated why I liked him in the first place. I mean, he was attractive, but I don’t think I liked him. I think I wanted to like him because everyone else did. And even if I did like him, what he did to Naruto and Sakura by leaving- and to the village- tainted that. He really hurt everyone, and that was after years of ignoring me. He didn’t owe me anything, sure, but he could’ve been nicer about it… And I didn’t like you back then either but a year or two passed and it sort of just… Hit one day. You may be a lazy bastard, but you’ve always tried your best to take care of Chouji and I- and everyone else- and there’s a lot that I’ve come to appreciate about you. I… I love you. I really do mean that.”

“Well, obviously I feel the same way, so…”

“You know, instead of doing all of this, you could’ve just asked me on a date,” Ino teases. “I would’ve said yes.”

“And how the hell was I supposed to know that?” Shikamaru sneers back. “It’s not like you made it obvious or anything.”

“And you did?”

“Chouji said I did.”

“He knew about all of this and didn’t tell me!? Oh, I am so going to get him when we spar tomorrow,” Ino huffs.

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, he knew before I even told him,” Shikamaru points out. “Why don’t we eat, and then after this, we can go on a normal date? As in one that I’m actually being upfront about the purpose of?”

“Fine, but I get to pick the location this time,” Ino agrees with a large grin. “Why don’t we head to the shopping center up the street?”

At that, Shikamaru laughs and rolls his eyes.

“Sure thing, Ino.”

#naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden fanfiction #shikamaru #ino #shikamaru nara #ino yamanaka #shikaino #choji akimichi #chouji akimichi

[sentinelpri]

did all of this! feel free to send in some requests. also check out and reread my pinned masterlist as i've updated my fandoms list and request rules. thx <3

fyi, gonna do some big revamping of my account! gonna redo all my masterlists + take down my multichapter content... bc tbh uploading everything chapter by chapter on here is a huge pain compared to posting it on wattpad/ao3 and i just can't maintain it anymore lol, so go on one of those two if you wanna reread my multichapter stuff. thx!

#personal

[sentinelpri]

fyi, gonna do some big revamping of my account! gonna redo all my masterlists + take down my multichapter content... bc tbh uploading everything chapter by chapter on here is a huge pain compared to posting it on wattpad/ao3 and i just can't maintain it anymore lol, so go on one of those two if you wanna reread my multichapter stuff. thx!

#personal

[sentinelpri]

Hey guys! Hope everyone is doing well. PC is broken so not much writing to be done for the time being. Took a break because I just had my baby girl (yay!) but I’m on mat leave and shit is boring (newborns sleep a LOT) so expect me to be more active again lol 💕

#personal

[sentinelpri]

I've recently found your Kakashi related fics on AO3, and wow what a treat, thanks for your writing!

Thank you so much! I've been on a bit of a hiatus lately (pregnancy is kicking my ass, wouldn't recommend it lol) but I hope to come out with some new stuff soon <3

#ask #asks #my asks #answered asks

[sentinelpri]

Burnt Out

Working at Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital is brutal, to say the least. As the head of the cardiology department and a member of Gregory House’s diagnostic team, your job is not only hectic but also underappreciated. You spend most of your days cycling between helping your patients, helping your coworker’s patients, pouring over paperwork, being scolded by Cuddy, and being shat on by House, who insists that you stay on his team while constantly dismissing your ideas and implying that you’re an idiot like he does with damn-near everyone else he works with.

So, yeah. Life is great.

Currently, you’re sitting in the diagnostics conference room at the corner of the table. Chase, Cameron, Foreman, and Wilson are also sitting with you. Meanwhile, House is standing at the whiteboard, bouncing his tennis ball with one hand and using the other to write down your most recent patient’s symptoms.

“Eleven year old caucasian female, admitted two days ago after falling unconscious during her first ever track meet. Her family’s medical history is totally clean from what we can tell and she’s had no problems prior to this, though they seem to be way behind on taking her and themselves to the doctor for regular visits. However, since being admitted, she’s only displayed more symptoms and seems to be getting worse,” House explains, seemingly unenthused. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already figured it out. He likes to do that- to pretend that he has no idea what the patient’s affliction is and then rag on everyone else for not being able to figure it out. “So far, we’re dealing with high blood pressure, a one hundred one degree fever that refuses to break, hives, bloodshot eyes, and swelling across her entire body.”

“Rheumatoid arthritis?” Cameron suggests, eager to be the first one to get at the new case. “I know she’s young, but she could’ve developed it early and had it go undiagnosed.”

“Before we start discussing the possibility of chronic diseases, shouldn’t we test for strep and scarlet fever?” Chase questions. “If her parents are so bad about getting her medical care, it could have just been a minor illness that’s developed into this.”

“What about you two? (y/n), Foreman?” House pipes up, calling the two of you out since you’ve been totally silent since he started. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t do the same to Wilson, who hasn’t said anything either. “Nothing to say?”

Foreman shrugs.

“This isn’t my ballpark. I’ll let you figure it out, House. I’m sure you’re just playing with us anyway. Compared to the last few cases, this seems like child’s play.”

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, House turns to you.

“And you?”

“Kawasaki disease? She has some of the symptoms,” You half-heartedly answer.

“Just because you’re a cardiologist doesn’t mean that every patient that comes through these doors has a heart disease, you know,” House scoffs with a roll of his icy blue eyes. “And she only has some of the symptoms for that. She doesn’t fit into the main demographic for it either. That’s the worst answer I’ve gotten out of you for a case all month. Are you even trying anymore?”

When House first hired you, you were excited- always trying your best and working after your already long hours to solve cases. As the years have gone by, though, you’ve lost your enthusiasm and frequently find yourself dreading the mornings where you and House’s paths have to collide. You know he’s only so cruel because he has problems of his own and because he has a motive (just like he has a motive for every other crazy thing he likes to do), but the fact that he picks on you so often when all you’re doing is trying your best gets under your skin.

A couple years ago, you might’ve tried to argue back with him. Now, all you can do is avert your eyes and stare at the table as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. You’re praying for a hole to just appear underneath you and suck you into the vacuum of space- or at least for everyone to continue chatting until the embarrassing situation is long forgotten- but instead, Cameron pipes up to defend you. 

“Dr. House, was that really unnecessary? They’re trying their best and you’re being needlessly cruel.”

“What, are you jealous that I’m paying more attention to them than I am to you?” House snarks back at her. You hold your head in your hands and sigh. “Because next time, I can include you, too. Now do any of you have any better ideas than the crap you’ve just given me or am I going to be handling this case by myself?”

With that, the meeting continues. House ends up deciding that he’s going to order labs to see if the patient has strep or scarlet fever before doing anything else, leaving you to finish out your work day. 

You rush out of the office the moment he dismisses you all. Cameron tries to catch up to you to ask if you’re okay, but much to your relief, Chase stops her and tells her that you probably just need your space. You rush to your office, shut the door, sit down in your chair, and- for the first time in a long time- bawl your eyes out. 

House being a dick to you is typical, but on top of everything else that you have to deal with at your job, it pushes you over the edge. With the ungrateful patients, admin, and coworkers, the long hours, the physically and mentally draining work, and all of the drama that happens in the hospital, it’s almost impossible to keep going. The only thing- or, person- that makes it somewhat worth the turmoil is your partner, James Wilson, who you’ve been dating for some months now.

He’s a great comfort to you, and he’s always kind, unlike a lot of the people you find yourself surrounded by at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Your relationship is surprisingly healthy despite the amount of problems between the two of you. You don’t want to miss out on more time with him than you already do, though, so you find it hard to quit or even ask to be moved off of the diagnostics team. 

Conflicted and tired, you bury your head in your arms and cry even harder, glad that the walls are soundproof until you hear the sound of your doorknob turning.

And that’s when you realize that you forgot to lock the door.

You pop your head up, tears still covering your cheeks and welling up in your eyes. You probably look like shit and your partner has just walked in to see said display.

There, right in front of you, in the entryway of your office, stands James Wilson, looking at you like a deer caught in the headlights. The worst part is that you’re sure you’re looking at him the same way. The happy expression he walked in with has fallen completely.

“Did I come at a bad time?” He tentatively asks.

“No, sorry,” You answer and rush to wipe your tears away. You try to make yourself look presentable, probably to no avail considering the look of disbelief that James shoots your way. “What do you need?”

“Are you sure? I can leave if you want-” James starts and steps back towards the door.

“Don’t,” You interject, shaking your head. “Please. I know we’re at work right now, but…”

James sighs, then shuts and locks the door behind you. He quickly approaches your desk and sits on the edge of it, facing you.

“House really got to you today, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, I guess he did,” You shrug. “I don’t even know what to do about it anymore, James… I’m considering just quitting and going somewhere else. I feel so burnt out. It’s not even just House, it’s everything else, too. He’s the least of it.”

James nods.

“...I understand.”

“Do you really?”

“Well, maybe not in the exact same way. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice that House is a little less harsh on me than he is on the rest of you, but him and I have been friends for a long time. He knows what I’m capable of. The only reason he pushes your buttons so much is because he’s testing to see what your limits are. In a weird sort of way, he’s trying to get to know you,” James explains, though both of you know that isn’t much of a comfort to you. “I’m sure things have been difficult for you lately. You do a lot, and it goes unappreciated, but I promise you that you’re doing a good job and that there are people who appreciate what you do.”

At that, you smile. You don’t feel completely better, but the weight on your shoulders does feel a little lighter.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“I love you,” James says.

“I love you too.”

Hours pass. You work on paperwork while James responds to patient emails for you. The two of you knock out most of what’s been piling up on your end, much to your relief. You try not to think about the fact that James has probably neglected a lot of his day’s duties to help you out with this. 

“Should we head out?” You ask, looking at the clock.

“Probably… It is getting pretty late.”

Just then, the doorknob turns, only to go back since James had locked it just moments before. A second later, you hear obnoxiously loud knocking. Wilson goes to open it. Standing there is House, who’s holding a stack of papers.

“All the other tests came back negative. You were right,” House admits, looking straight at you. “It’s Kawasaki disease. Good job.”

Then, as fast as he came by your office, House leaves, just as elusive as ever- and all you and James can do is laugh.

#james wilson x reader #House #house md #House M.D. #House M.D #gregory house #reader insert #self insert #gender neutral reader #oneshot #oneshots #fluff #drabble #drabbles

[sentinelpri]

Yeah, Right

The first time Aizawa does it, he doesn’t think about the ‘why’. After all, it seems logical enough. 

It’s All Might’s fifty-first birthday and Aizawa expects the fresh batch of new students to want to surprise the older man with something special for the day of. Only, when he gets to class that morning, he hears them all talking about how they’re too shy to so boldly approach their teacher and give him a birthday gift. While Aizawa imagines that All Might will get plenty of gifts and letters in his P.O. box, none of them will actually be from anyone he knows- random fans, even some stalkers- all people that he has no connection with.

Aizawa knows All Might well enough to know that the only people he wants anything from are going to be his students and fellow heroes- people he knows, people who care. Aizawa remembers that All Might doesn’t have a family to celebrate with and frowns as he sits at his desk listening to the children rattle on about the former number one hero.

When All Might walks in to take over the class for his heroics lesson, he looks Aizawa in the eye and offers a small smile. For whatever reason, said smile makes Aizawa’s heart skip a beat, so he doesn’t smile back. Instead, he leaves, rushing to the local grocery store even though he knows he’s supposed to be doing lesson planning. When he returns, he smuggles the little bouquet of roses and the box of chocolates into the lounge through his duffle bag. 

All Might’s locker is always stupidly left unlocked (because ‘none of my fellow hereos would meddle with my belongings’, according to the older man), so Aizawa puts the presents there with a note but no name.

‘Happy birthday, number one. Hope you have a good year.’

It’s simple and plain enough to not give away who it’s from. Perfect.

Aizawa doesn’t feel too nervous as he shuts the locker and retreats to sit at the round table. It’s lunch time now, so the sound of loud teenagers bustling down the hallway rings in Aizawa’s ears. He buries his head in his hands and groans, only to have a more pressing problem when the door is slammed open just seconds later.

He glances up to see All Might, standing in the doorway, the front of his pink button-up shirt soaked with blood. 

“All Might,” Aizawa stands up and grabs a washcloth to wet, then brings it over to All Might. He wipes the blood off of the older man and glances up at him with a scowl. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Oh, Aizawa,” All Might offers a weak smile and takes the washcloth from Aizawa’s hands so he can clean himself up. Aizawa stands there awkwardly, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for an answer. “I’m fine! Just a normal day for me, coughing up blood, though I’m starting to run out of shirts that aren’t blood-stained… Maybe I should start wearing more red.”

“You’re coughing blood up that often? And in this quantity… That isn’t normal,” Aizawa scoffs, as annoyed as ever by All Might’s alarming normalization of his declining health. “When’s the last time you’ve been to a doctor?”

“Back after we fought Shigaraki and the Paranormal Liberation Front.”

“No, I mean for a normal check up. When’s the last time you’ve been to a doctor for something other than a grievous, hero-work-related injury?”

“Oh, I haven’t been since…” All Might trails off, tossing the washcloth in the dirty laundry and thinking to himself. Meanwhile, Aizawa moves to dig through his own locker for an extra shirt that All Might can have- God knows the former number one hero is never prepared enough to keep a change of clothes handy. Aizawa finds the largest one he has, an oversized black sweater that he likes to sleep in sometimes. It’s just long enough that it’ll fit All Might’s weirdly oversized frame perfectly, so Aizawa takes the shirt out and tosses it at the older man. “Hm… I actually don’t know.”

“You need to go see one soon, then,” Aizawa nags and sits back down in a lounge chair as All Might hides behind the lockers to change shirts.

“Why do you care so much all of a sudden?”

“Ugh, never mind,” Aizawa grumbles and gets up to head towards the door. Just when he thought he was getting soft for the man, All Might had to go and get on his nerves again. “God forbid I try to make you take care of your health for the sake of your students.”

“Aizawa, wait-”

“No, it’s fine. I get the point. You’re never going to prioritize yourself and nothing anyone can say will ever make you. Keep the shirt,” Aizawa puts his hand on the door knob and turns it. Then, he opens the door and leaves, calling back to a flustered looking All Might with- “I’ll see you later.”

~

The second time Aizawa does it, he wonders why the hell he finds himself doing this shit again. The first time it was because it was All Might’s birthday and he wasn’t sure if All Might would get anything from anyone else. Now, it’s the middle of autumn, and he’s unsure about his motives. He tells himself that All Might has seemed down lately- yes, that’s all it is- and that he wants to cheer him up for the students’ sake and definitely not for his own. It’s odd because the last time he did this, he had an awkward and tense interaction with the man right after that turned him off for a while, but… It couldn’t hurt to try again.

So, he spends time hand-crocheting and knitting some sweaters and scarfs for the upcoming season and packing them into a little gift basket. All Might still has a nasty habit of leaving his locker unlocked, meaning that Aizawa can get into it easily. He sneaks into the lounge early, unusually early, knowing that he’s the least likely to get caught at this time since school doesn’t start until seven thirty. Right now, it’s six.

The only person that ever gets to U.A. before seven in the morning aside from Nezu is-

“Mic,” Aizawa blankly states, unsure of what to do. He’s standing in front of All Might’s open locker with the gift basket in one hand and his other hand on the edge of the locker door to hold it open. Mic has just walked into the staff lounge and caught him red-handed. “Uh… What’s up?”

In an awkward series of little motions, Aizawa slams the locker shut and tries to hide the ridiculously large basket behind his back.

“Um… What’cha got there?”

“Nothing that’s any of your business,” Aizawa answers, then reopens the locker, shoves the basket in there, and slams it back shut.

“C’mon, now, don’t pretend that I didn’t just catch you leaving a gift basket in All Might’s locker! No wonder you’ve been acting so funky lately… And to think I thought I was imagining things when I saw him in your favorite shirt,” Mic says, much to Aizawa’s embarrassment and horror. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of him doing this coming off like that to anyone else- and maybe loaning All Might one of his favorite shirts that he used to wear all the time wasn’t the best idea, either, especially considering that All Might now wears the damn thing at least once a week with the claim of ‘since it’s black, it doesn’t stain easy!’. “Wait, are you two a thing!?” 

“Absolutely not. He borrowed the shirt once and I let him keep it. As for the gifts… Well, I am guilty of that, but he doesn’t reciprocate said gifts nor does he know it’s me giving them,” Aizawa explains and guiltily walks away from All Might’s locker in favor of sitting down on the edge of the staff table. He sighs and shakes his head both at himself and at Mic. “So don’t tell anyone.”

“Hah! No one would believe me, even if I did want to go and betray you by blabbing about it,” Mic laughs and sits right next to Aizawa on the table top. Then, he looks over at the erasure hero with his big green eyes and a knowing smirk. “But are you seriously going to keep on with this until he retires from teaching?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you clearly like him, and this is your weird fucked up way of expressing it-”

“Hey!” Aizawa interrupts with a blush and a glare- or, as much of a glare as he can produce these days with only one eye. The other eye socket remains empty and covered by a black eye patch, thanks to a certain Shigaraki. “Don’t talk about me like that.”

“What? It’s true! I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Mic points out. It’s horribly, embarrassingly true. Aizawa used to hate All Might and everything he stood for, and he still tries to tell himself that he does, but… Things just aren’t the way they were back then. He watches All Might a little too closely and checks in on him all the time, even if it’s not in the most overtly caring and compassionate way. He does care about All Might, and they’ve grown to respect each other. He just never thought that it’d develop into those sorts of feelings; for the former number one hero, who’s far more popular than him, far more attractive than him, and over a decade his senior. “You’ve been doing this for how long now?”

“I don’t know,” Aizawa shrugs and crosses his leg over his prosthetic. Then, he crosses his arms as well and taps his fingers against his bicep. He can’t even meet Mic’s gaze. “A few months, maybe?”

“Exactly,” Mic yells a little too loudly and throws his hands up in the air. “You’ve been doing this for months instead of just telling the guy you have a crush on him!”

“I don’t have a crush on him,” Aizawa mumbles, hating the sound of such a juvenile term being thrown at him like this.

Crush.

Yeah, right.

“Really?” Mic presses. “Really? Look at yourself right now, Eraser!”

“We can continue this conversation never,” Aizawa gets up from the table, heads to the door, and looks back at Mic, who is sitting there with a ridiculously large grin. “And remember; don’t tell anyone about what you saw today.”

“Aye aye captain!” Mic responds with a mock-salute that somehow pisses Aizawa off even more.

As the ravenette leaves, embarrassed and confused, he can’t help but think about what Mic said.

A crush. 

On All Might.

Yeah, right.

~

The third time Aizawa does it, he hears All Might start to talk.

Aizawa has had to come to terms with the fact that these stupid feelings he’s developed for All Might are, in fact, a crush- as Mic had so eloquently put it just a few months ago. Said crush has been festering for God knows how long and seems to only get worse with every season that passes. 

So, by the time winter rolls around, he’s more on edge about the whole thing than he thought he’d be when he left the first gift basket for All Might back in June. Despite never caring about his appearance before, he finds himself tying his hair up (All Might said it looked good like that once), wearing cologne (one that All Might said was his favorite in an interview a while back), and putting a little more effort into his appearance than he would have just a few years ago.

It’s the day before winter break. All of the kids are doing cute holiday celebrations, gift exchanges, dorm parties, and more. They’ve already taken their finals, so there’s not much for the teachers to do aside from sit on their asses and enjoy the festivities. Aizawa doesn’t mind it. He even finds himself in a particularly cheery mood as he leaves another gift basket in All Might’s locker, this one full of holiday candies, a new blanket, and some fancy tea and coffee blends.

After leaving the gifts and making sure that no one is around to catch him in the act this time, Aizawa quietly closes the locker and moves to sit at the staff table before anyone can walk in.

He catches a glance of himself in the mirror and sighs. His hair is tied back all pretty, he actually bothered shaving, and though he looks as tired as ever… He looks better than he used to. The things people say about ‘glowing’ when they fall in love may actually be true. With a shake of his head, he ignores that train of thought in favor of pulling out his phone and reading the news.

Slowly, more of the faculty file in; Nezu, Mic, Vlad King, Nejire- who started working for U.A. shortly after graduating- and finally, All Might. The four sit near Aizawa at the table with Mic sitting right next to him and the others sitting across from him. They chat and talk about their plans for winter break as if Aizawa isn’t even there until Aizawa hears Nejire pipe up with-

“Hey, All Might, is that a new scarf? It’s cute. Where’d you get it?”

“It’s a funny story, but someone has been leaving these gifts in my work locker for months…” All Might explains, much to Aizawa’s embarrassment. Aizawa can’t help but notice that the older man is wearing his sweater. Again. The chunky crocheted scarf around his neck is made of black and red yarn, one of the many things that Aizawa has anonymously gifted to him since the summertime. “Everything from chocolates and flowers for my birthday to this scarf and custom-made sweaters. No idea who it is.”

“Oh, well that’s a simple problem with a simple solution!” Nezu suggests. Aizawa’s heart drops as the principal suddenly crawls into his scarf and sits on his shoulder- something he frequently does for warmth and height. His beady eyes remain trained on All Might. Meanwhile, Mic won’t stop nudging Aizawa with his foot underneath the table. “Would you like me to check the security cameras for you?”

“No, that’s not necessary, Nezu,” All Might answers with a dismissive wave. It takes everything in Aizawa not to let out an obvious sigh of relief. “After all, if they’re going about it like this, they probably don’t want me to know their identity.”

“You don’t think that it’s some sort of villain, do you?” Vlad King questions.

“Not at all. UA’s security is too strict to allow any outsiders in and all of the gifts I’ve received so far have been totally harmless. I had the same train of thought at first and even had Tsukauchi run everything I received through his forensics team to test for poisons and find any trackers or cameras that might’ve been hidden, but no one found anything. It seems like they’re totally innocuous, well-meaning gifts.”

“Do you think it’s a student?” Nezu presses, clearly somewhat concerned.

Aizawa suddenly realizes just how bad of an idea this was to start off with. Maybe he should stop and get a hold of things before he gets caught and makes a fool out of himself. 

“No, they wouldn’t have access to the lounge unless they had some sort of quirk that allowed them to phase through things. I know we have a couple of those quirk users here, but I doubt that any of them would risk getting in trouble for something so dumb when they could just leave the stuff on the desk of the classroom I teach in. So, it must be another faculty member; another teacher, a janitor, cafeteria staff…” All Might continues rambling on about the many deductions he’s made. Aizawa almost calls him out for sounding so much like Midoriya, but he decides against it. “There’s so many people who work here that I haven’t bothered trying to narrow it down.”

“And that doesn’t bother you at all!? I’d be going insane!” Mic yells out, then sends a quick and knowing glance in Aizawa’s direction. Aizawa glares back at him. “What if you have a stalker or something?”

“I doubt it’s anything that severe. Either this is some sort of cruel joke or someone has a crush on me,” All Might shrugs. “I’d be surprised at the latter considering the form I’m currently in, but the gifts clearly have a lot of thought behind them and some people have weird tastes…”

At that, Mic burst out laughing, to which Aizawa quickly turns and scolds him.

“Mic!”

Mic only laughs harder. Aizawa doesn’t think his face has ever been this red, and All Might is looking between the two of them like he’s trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together. 

“What’s so funny, Yamada?” All Might asks and narrows his sky blue eyes.

“Nothing, nothing,” Mic answers, but again, only laughs even hader. He puts his head on the table and buries his face in his arms. “Sorry!”

“So you’re just going to let this continue to happen?” Vlad King interjects. 

“Basically. Either I’ll retire from teaching, they’ll come and tell me who they are and why they’re doing this, or they’ll get bored and stop. Whichever happens first. I don’t really mind either way.”

“What if it’s, like, a secret admirer?” Nejire continues. Meanwhile, Aizawa doesn’t know if he’s relieved or offended at the fact that All Might doesn’t seem to care very much about whoever it is that’s been leaving him presents in his locker. “Don’t you want to know who they are?”

“Not really. I know I don’t discuss it very often, but I do have my heart set on someone else… I just haven’t had the courage to tell them, especially since my retirement from hero work. So, it’s better that this person doesn’t reveal themselves to me; I’d hate to reject them after they’ve given me so many nice things. I want them to know I appreciate all these things they’ve gifted me, so I wear and use them as much as I can, but I also wonder if I’m giving them the wrong idea… Ah, I’ve got lesson plans to work on. I should get back to the classroom.”

With that, All Might stands up and retreats, leaving the rest of the staff to eat their lunches and chat amongst themselves- mostly about the upcoming holiday party that the hero commission is going to throw in about a week to celebrate the last year’s worth of hero work. They do it every year, but Aizawa never attends, finding that no one really cares whether or not he’s there aside from Mic. It always seems like a big publicity stunt for heroes to come and throw their money at the charities that are promoted there, for heroes to come and get interviewed by famous reporters, and for heroes to come and find more work with new teams or agencies.

Like a lot of hero society, the whole thing is about business more than it is a genuine celebration, but… if All Might is going to be there this year like he always is, Aizawa may go.

Eventually, the rest of the staff clear out, leaving Aizawa and Mic by themselves. Mic is the first to say anything.

“Eraser, aren’t you going to tell him about your feelings?”

“Has your quirk made you deaf or something? He said he’s in love with someone else! He’d just reject me, I… Should’ve never done this in the first place,” Aizawa sighs. His heart actually feels like it’s breaking from everything All Might said. “It was a stupid idea. Out of all the people I could’ve gone and caught feelings for…”

“But what if that person he talked about is you?”

“Really? Out of everyone All Might has ever met and known, you think he’s in love with me? Yeah, right,” Aizawa scoffs, looking at Mic in disbelief. “Be realistic.”

“I dunno, maybe? I mean, I could’ve sworn he was giving you ‘fuck me eyes’ while he was in here so perhaps-”

“There’s no way,” Aizawa interrupts, flustered. The idea of All Might looking at him like that… No. It’s impossible. For someone like All Might to want someone like him… “I look like a homeless person according to my students and everyone knows I haven’t been the same since everything that happened with the League of Villains and the Paranormal Liberation Front. And, just in case you forgot, I’m also more than a decade younger than him. I wouldn’t blame him for being completely repulsed by me.”

“Eraser… I’m sure if you told him, and he didn’t return the feelings, he’d be nice about it,” Mic tries to be comforting by putting a hand on Aizawa’s shoulder.

“Oh, yeah, pity kindness. That’s definitely what I want from him. As if this isn’t embarrassing enough,” Aizawa sarcastically huffs with a roll of his eyes. Mic just offers a guilty smile in return. “Honestly, Mic, you… Look, I appreciate you trying to help me here, but it’s better if I just don’t say anything, okay? He doesn’t want me back, and he never will.”

“If that’s how you really feel, I guess I can’t change your mind, but let me know if you ever want to ask him out, okay?”

“Yeah. Sure thing.”

“Okay, catch ya later!”

With that, Mic stands up and exits the room, leaving Aizawa alone yet again. The ravenette sighs and holds his head in his hands.

Asking All Might out?

Yeah, right. Because that’ll go swimmingly.

~

Aizawa doesn’t get the chance to do it a fourth time. Instead, U.A. is closed for winter break so the students can go home and spend time with their families for the holidays. While a few of them stay behind, they celebrate in their own way, leaving the teachers to attend the hero commission’s holiday party. It’s thrown at some fancy venue with a ballroom, that of which Aizawa can’t be fucked to remember the name of. Mic drives him, anyway, so it’s not like he has to know what it’s called or where it’s at. 

Once he gets there, Mic splits from him to go be the social butterfly and casually functioning alcoholic that he’s always been. He downs drink after drink, but thankfully, Nezu is nearby keeping an eye on him so Aizawa doesn’t have to (for once). Aizawa takes the opportunity to lean back against one of the less crowded walls and scan the room. 

Since the end of the conflict with the PLF, any interest in Aizawa and his involvement with the U.A. scandals has died down considerably, so he’s almost returned to the familiar comfort of no one knowing who he is again- so much so that none of the paparazzi or reporters bother trying to snap pictures or get an interview with him. Though many heroes would feel stiffed by this, Aizawa is relieved as he watches All Might, who is currently experiencing the exact opposite.

At first, All Might was happily chatting with the other heroes and dancing with a lot of them (which made Aizawa somewhat jealous, but that’s another story). Now, All Might looks uncomfortable, though he does a great job at putting on a front and answering all of the reporters’ questions as if he isn’t becoming a nervous wreck with every second that passes. Eventually, All Might directs them to Mount Lady, who is currently dancing with Kamui woods. Those vultures take the opportunity to go take as many implicating photos as they can, which gives All Might the time to make an escape and slip outside of the venue. Aizawa grabs a coffee from the bar and follows the former number one hero, who he finds sitting outside on a bench a few yards away from the front door. 

“Parties aren’t much your scene these days, are they?” Aizawa asks, standing behind the bench and slumping his shoulders.

“Heh,” All Might laughs, then shakes his head. “Not at all.”

“It seems like I can always find you out here when you feel out of place… Outside in the freezing cold, all by your lonesome, sitting on some bench.”

“Would you like to sit?” All Might offers.

“Sure,” Aizawa sits down next to All Might and sees that the blond is shivering due to the cold, even in a nice sweater and a scarf. So, Aizawa holds out his hot coffee and asks- “Want a sip?”

All Might looks at the coffee, then at Aizawa.

“You don’t mind?”

“Kids are petri dishes, and I’m around them all the time just fine,” Aizawa shrugs. “I doubt you’ll get me sick.”

All Might takes the cup.

“There’s no alcohol in this, right?”

“Right. I know you can’t really drink anymore. Plus, I’m not really stupid enough to drink at this sort of thing unlike all of our coworkers�� I’d hate to slip up and let something embarrassing out to the press. I know those damn vultures would take full advantage of some poor inebriated idiot here- hell, they do it to Mic every year.”

“That’s true,” All Might laughs and leans back against the bench. It’s taken him a couple minutes, but he seems comfortable with Aizawa’s presence now. The smile on his face is beautiful underneath the pale moonlight, practically glimmering. Aizawa feels his cheeks burn red and prays that All Might doesn’t notice. Pausing, All Might drinks some of the coffee before continuing. “I remember last year when they got him to admit to that fling he had with Vlad King, those two were in hot water for a while… Thanks for the drink, by the way.”

“Sure.”

A few moments pass with the two men passing the coffee between each other, drinking, and chatting away. Aizawa can’t help but notice that All Might is acting a little differently- a little more at ease than he normally would. Aizawa isn’t sure how to place it until All Might sets the drink down on the middle of the bench and holds out one of his large hands.

“Hey, how about a dance?”

“Hm?”

“I think you’re the only one of our coworkers I haven’t danced with tonight,” All Might says offhandedly, which makes Aizawa’s face fall. Is it really just a platonic offer? Almost as if sensing his disappointment, All Might rushes to retract the invitation, panicking. “Then again, I understand if you aren’t interested! I know being in the spotlight isn’t really your thing and-”

“We can dance out here, if you want,” Aizawa interjects. The soft lull of the waltz music from inside can be heard echoing through the open windows. “I can still hear the music.”

“That actually sounds pretty nice,” All Might stands. “Mind if I lead?”

“Not at all.”

So, hand in hand, the two dance together outside of the venue, unbothered by the press or their fellow heroes who would ask questions. All Might’s hands are calloused and warm, and he smells like the cologne Aizawa bought him not that long ago.

“You know, it’s rare that you dress up like this,” All Might remarks, and it’s true. Aizawa wore a suit for the occasion at Mic’s pestering. He even shaved and tied his hair up to make himself look somewhat nice. Though, he didn’t expect All Might to notice. “I don’t think I’ve seen it since that last press conference.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” All Might smiles. “I like it.”

“Well, I like you,” Aizawa spits out before he can think better of it. He freezes, tripping over All Might’s feet. All Might wraps an arm around his back and pulls him into his chest to catch him. Embarrassment washes over Aizawa like a shower that’s way too hot. He rushes to explain the words away. “Wait, that’s not what I-”

“I like you, too,” All Might blurts out, much to his relief. On one hand, Aizawa is happy, but on the other, he doesn’t want to admit that Mic was right. “And um… Thanks for the stuff.”

At that, Aizawa blinks and pulls away, flustered.

“You knew it was me?”

“Well, no,” All Might answers, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “But Mic’s pretty hammered in there and-”

“He told you, didn’t he?” Aizawa huffs and facepalms with a shake of his head.

“Maybe?”

“He’s awfully lucky this just so happened to work out,” Aizawa sighs and reaches forward to grab one of All Might’s hands. Much to his delight, All Might laces their fingers together and stands by his side. “But I guess since the cat’s out of the bag, we can take this inside, right?”

“Yeah… I’d like that.”

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #erasermight #erasermight fic #eraserhead #all might #yagi toshinori #shouta aizawa #shota aizawa #fluff #oneshot #oneshots #drabble #drabbles #post-canon #post-war