Dedication: Still wholly and entirely for the incredible EmeraldBenu, who is always cheerfully indulgent of my ridiculousness, and always willing to lend an ear or some fantastic advice. You are superlative and amazing in all ways, and if I could write a million stories for you to prove it, I would.

Rating: T+

Warnings: Massive feels, equally massive sappy fluff, antics, brief talk of war, etc.

Word Count: ~3500

Pairings: Sakumo/Orochimaru, vaguely pre-Kakashi/Obito

Disclaimer: Hah. I want some of whatever Kishimoto was smoking, but Naruto's not mine.

Notes: *slides this into place only, uh, 13 days late oops* But—finished! I finished something! Aren't you proud? Excited? I know I am. Now I can start 12 more WIPs and feel mildly less guilty about it. \o/

(I'm joking. Er, mostly.)

Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who gave this cracky story a chance. It's been a fantastic trip the whole way through, despite multiple unplanned pit stops and several detours. Hearing from everyone, especially things like "this made me love Orochimaru" or "oops, I never considered Sakumo/Orochimaru before but now it's an OTP"—you make my life, and I want you to know that. :)

A Snake In the Grass, A Wolf At the Door


Chapter Ten

The shower is running when Orochimaru slips back into the house, and there's a pot of miso soup heating on the stove while the rice steams. The clone has a set of Orochimaru's off-duty clothes laid out already, and he changes into them gratefully, glad to escape the smell of the river he spent so much time in on his way to Ame. He's just dumping the uniform into a rag bin when Sakumo wanders down the hall, his hair still dripping and a towel draped around his shoulders.

With a sigh that's three parts aggravation and one part amusement, Orochimaru abandons his task and crosses to Sakumo's side, stealing the towel and tossing it over his head. "You're going to make yourself sick," he informs him, "and I won't be the one to care for you."

Sakumo laughs, leaning in to kiss Orochimaru quickly, and catches his wrists in gentle hands as he starts to rub the older man's hair dry. "Lies," he counters. "You'd make a great nursemaid, lovely."

"Not for you." Orochimaru raises a brow at him, trying not to let any more amusement show. "You whine terribly when you have a cold, Sakumo. I would leave you to Tsunade's tender mercies without regret."

Another laugh, softer this time, and Sakumo steps forward, gently tipping Orochimaru's chin up and sliding their mouths together in a slow, exploratory kiss. "Really?" he murmurs as he leans back.

"Do you doubt me?" Orochimaru counters.

Solemnity slides over Sakumo's face, though thankfully there's nothing grim about it. He pulls back a little, hands settling on Orochimaru's hips, and just…looks at him for a long moment. Then he smiles, small and warm, and pulls Orochimaru towards him. "Never," he murmurs against Orochimaru's hair. "Never you, Orochimaru. I would doubt everything else in the world before I'd doubt you."

There's a faint ache in Orochimaru, somewhere he can't quite pinpoint. He rests his head against Sakumo's shoulder, carefully looping his arms around the man's back, and doesn't quite dare to close his eyes. Just for a moment he doesn't think of loss, of what could have been, of what might have happened if Sakumo had given in to grief. What might have happened if Sakumo had never saved him, on that long-ago mission. Just this once, there are no possibilities in Orochimaru's head, no speculations, no thoughts. Just…warmth, soul-deep and skin-warm, Sakumo's large hand sliding up and down his spine in gentle strokes.

Orochimaru is a creature of death and blood and cold, sharp intellect like the edge of a blade. He has never been otherwise, never wanted to be otherwise, and Sakumo has never asked him to change those parts of himself. There have been moments, seconds where Sakumo simply looked at him and smiled, and Orochimaru had looked back and seen that maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than that. Little pieces of something greater, fitting in against his jagged edges and smoothing them out, not quite making him whole but…something. Something good, which wouldn't exist without this man.

Fingers sweep his hair back from his face, smoothing it over his shoulders, and Orochimaru glances up to find Sakumo smiling at him. His silver hair is still dripping a little, and his eyes are soft. Orochimaru holds his gaze, tilting his cheek into that careful touch, and finally says, "I'm not made of glass, Sakumo. You will never manage to hurt me."

Because he can see the worry in Sakumo, as clear as day—the ragged tear of everything is breaking, what if this does too? It itches at him like an open wound, that Sakumo should feel that way, because Orochimaru will never leave. He's strong enough to stand and keep fighting no matter what, regardless of anything, and the feeling of being needed by this man is enough to push him onward through whatever comes.

There's a pause, a hesitation, and then Sakumo chuckles softly. His touch firms, sliding back so he can twist his fingers in Orochimaru's hair and tip his head back. "I suppose it's just the association," he says with some humor, and even more warmth. "Precious things are usually delicate, too. You're simply an exception to the rule, lovely."

Never in his life has anyone called Orochimaru precious. He can't even remember his parents speaking the word, and from anyone other than Sakumo he thinks he'd hate it. But there's a kernel of something rooted in his chest, small and white-hot, and in its wake he can only shake his head bemusedly.

"You shouldn't be able to say such things with a straight face, mutt," he complains, though his heart isn't in it.

That earns a full-blown laugh, bright and happy, and Sakumo leans in to drop a kiss on the purple clan markings around Orochimaru's eyes. "What can I say?" he asks, and though it isn't quite with his usual cheer he's still a thousand miles from the broken man Orochimaru returned to. "You inspire me, lovely." A pause, and then he dips down with clear intent. Orochimaru tips his head to meet him, and the kiss isn't quite as gentle as before, but still soft. A thank you, almost, touched with gratitude and fondness and friendship, bound by something Orochimaru is very sure he could call love.

But he has no skill with such things, and his declaration in the garden is the closest he's ever come to speaking those words. He thinks Sakumo understands regardless.

Orochimaru is not a gentle man, not kind. He's a weapon brought to bear against a world with too many weapons in it already, and the only way he's survived is being stronger, better, harsher than all the rest. He cuts deeper, wounds mortally, and he's never learned how to be different.

Sakumo is a sheath. Sakumo doesn't dull him, but contains him, holds him back without changing who he is, gives him a touch of restrain that makes him…acceptable. Wanted.

Like this, with Sakumo beside him, Orochimaru can be both human and weapon, and that's all he's ever wanted or needed to be.

From the front of the house comes the sound of the door clicking open, then footsteps in the hall. There's a pause, a little worried and wary, and then Kakashi calls quietly, "Tou-san? Oro?"

Sakumo's breath catches in his throat, and he lifts his head, eyes widening as they snap to meet Orochimaru's. Orochimaru just smiles a little in answer, stepping back, and tips his head in a silent order.

The smile that blooms across Sakumo's face is more brilliant than any Orochimaru has seen before, shining with gratitude and hope and bone-deep relief, and he laughs, loud and free. With a sound that's almost a whoop he ducks forward to grab Orochimaru around the waist and lifts him right off the ground, whirling him into a spin. Orochimaru squawks in surprise, snatching at Sakumo's shoulders. The arms around his waist tighten, clutching him close, and Sakumo whispers a desperate, "Thank you," against his lips, half an instant before he calls back, "Just a second, cub!" and then tosses Orochimaru right over his shoulder like a sack of rice before he heads down the hall with jaunty steps.

"Sakumo!" Orochimaru protests with a sharp hiss, banging an ineffectual fist against the man's back. "Sakumo, put me down or I will show you just what Tsunade taught me about pressure points, you oversized oaf!"

"Oh, come on, lovely," Sakumo laughs, shifting an arm around the backs of Orochimaru's knees so he can't kick the idiot in the gut. "What's the harm in it? Indulge me." He ducks to get through the kitchen doorway, then straightens again and lets Orochimaru slide to the ground, though he doesn't move his hands from the other man's waist.

"You have no concept of dignity," Orochimaru hisses, glaring at Sakumo, though he doesn't try to step away, either. "And if I 'indulge you' even for a second, mutt, it will go straight to your head."

"Well, we can't have that," Sakumo agrees, smiling, and leans in to kiss Orochimaru swiftly.

There's a pause, and then Kakashi sighs, sounding entirely longsuffering as he asks, "Should I come back later?"

Sakumo's head snaps up, and his smile softens, gaining an almost tentative edge. "Kakashi," he says, brushing his fingers over Orochimaru's cheek one last time before he steps towards his son. At the edge of the hallway, he pauses, clearly uncertain of his welcome, and looks at Kakashi with something like desperation in his eyes. "You're back."

Kakashi takes a deep breath and nods, looking up and meeting Sakumo's eyes. "Sorry I didn't tell you when I left," he says, and even with the mask his expression of determination is clear. He steps forward, equally tentative, and offers simply, "I'm glad you made it home safe, Tou-san."

Sakumo's smile deepens, warms. He reaches out as he drops to his knees, wraps an arm around Kakashi's shoulders, and hugs him gently. "Me too," he whispers. "Thanks, cub."

Kakashi makes a sound that is somewhere between deeply relieved and grumpy, and then asks pointedly, "Does this mean I should start calling Oro Kaa-san?"

Sakumo almost falls over from laughing too hard, and Orochimaru rolls his eyes, stepping past the idiot to see that Kakashi isn't alone in the hall. There's a boy his age hovering in the background, watching with wide and slightly wary black eyes. He can't be anything other than an Uchiha, but the clan jealously guards its children. To have him here, just after dark, without any apparent hurry to head back to his home, makes Orochimaru curious.

He's also dripping on the floor.

"Hello," he greets, moving closer. "I'm Orochimaru. Please don't mind the fool."

That gets him a hesitant smile, one that manages to light up the boy's face. He ducks into a quick bow and answers, "I'm Uchiha Obito! It's nice to meet you, Orochimaru! Your Kiyohime is really, really pretty."

Orochimaru decides that this boy is entirely acceptable as Kakashi's friend. "Thank you," he responds, offering a faint smile in return. "Kiyohime would thank you for the compliment as well. Why don't you come in and let me find you a towel?"

"Obito offered to help me find some books for Minato," Kakashi volunteers, extracting himself from his father's grasp. "But he fell in the river, so I said he could borrow some of my clothes first."

"Kind of you, cub." Sakumo pats him on the shoulder, ignoring the halfhearted glare Kakashi gives him for the nickname, and turns a welcoming smile on Obito as he stands. "Still, it's getting late. I think Namikaze will survive the night without his books, as long as you bring them first thing in the morning."

Because he's watching, Orochimaru sees the faint resignation that slips through Obito's eyes, the faint flicker of clear loneliness that settles over his expression for half an instant before he banishes it with a bright smile. Ah, he thinks, and has to look away to hide his amusement.

Just like his father, Kakashi has started taking in strays.

"Would you like to stay the night, Obito?" he asks, deliberately offhand. "It's a long walk back to the Uchiha section at this time of night, and I'm sure Kakashi won't object to sharing a room."

Obito looks up at him with wide eyes, then glances over at where Kakashi is determinedly looking in the other direction. "I don't care," Kakashi says. "Whatever. But there's an extra futon if you want it."

Sakumo, Orochimaru can see, is trying very hard not to start laughing again.

"Thanks," Obito says, something like awe in his voice, and then laughs. He bounces over to Kakashi side and all but throws himself on the other boy's shoulders. "I've never had a sleepover before! This will be fun! Thank you, Kakashi, Orochimaru, sir."

"Just Sakumo," Sakumo says dismissively, waving that away. He ruffles Kakashi's hair, earning an indignant huff, and then pats Obito's shoulder as he passes. "Why don't you boys go find some dry clothes? Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

"This way," Kakashi urges, grabbing Obito's wrist and tugging him down the hall.

Sakumo watches them go, expression light and a smile on his lips. When Orochimaru gives him a sideways look, he just shakes his fondly and murmurs, "I don't think he's ever gone out of his way to make a friend before."

This is true, Orochimaru concedes. Dai's son decided to befriend Kakashi on his own, and Shizune is more a friend because Tsunade and Orochimaru spend so much time together, and the two children have been thrown together by circumstance. For Kakashi to actually bring someone home is entirely new. "Do you know the boy?" is all he says, however, because the curiosity of an Uchiha on his own is enough to catch his attention.

"I think he's Minami's kid," Sakumo answers thoughtfully. "Never heard her mention a father, though, and she died two years ago. Do you think he's been living alone since then?"

Orochimaru rescue the miso and take the rice off the heat. "I can't imagine that the Uchiha approve of mixing bloodlines," he points out. "If his father is from outside their clan, it would explain his isolation."

"Somehow, I don't think Kakashi is going to let him stay that way." Sakumo sounds amused. "And Obito doesn't seem like the type to allow himself to be forgotten. Maybe we can just—"

"Let you take in another stray?" Orochimaru finishes for him, raising a pointed brow. "Well, he certainly fits your type: dark hair, no family, lonely—"

Strong arms curl around his waist, and Sakumo drops his chin onto his shoulder, tilting his head to press his cheek against Orochimaru's hair. "Are you admitting that you were lonely, then?"

A week ago, Orochimaru would have kicked him for even implying it. Now, with the memory of Sakumo's slumped, defeated form far too clear in his mind, Orochimaru sighs. He doesn't look up from his hands as he stirs cubes of tofu and eggplant into the soup, but says, as carelessly as he's able, "Not so much lonely as…alone. Desperately."

The breath catches in Sakumo's chest, and he shifts Orochimaru's hair aside to lay a careful kiss on the back of his neck. He doesn't address the confession directly, because they both know what it cost Orochimaru in pride, but he murmurs something against Orochimaru's skin that just might be, "Me too."

Knowing that is enough to ease some of the tension from Orochimaru's shoulders, and breathes out. Sakumo kisses the curve of his shoulder where it's bared by his yukata, and then says quietly, "There will still be a war."

It's a warning and an apology and a plea all wrapped up together, and Orochimaru shakes his head, turning in Sakumo's arms to face him fully. He isn't as grim as he was before, because the desolation has eased into mere weariness, but he's more serious than Orochimaru has seen him in a very long time.

"We always knew that," Orochimaru counters. "War doesn't start from one incident, Sakumo. No single man can spark one. It's an excuse, and I regret that you must serve as it this time, but we would have come to this point eventually. Suna's economics are poor, and Iwa wants more territory. Konoha has the bad luck to be caught between them, with grudges from the last war on either side. That's all this is."

That gets him a smile, small but heartfelt. "So I see. But even if I'm not to blame, it will still be war. We're both going to be called to the front. We're both going to be in danger. Every shinobi in Konoha will be."

"Not the genin," Orochimaru reminds him. "We may have to move quickly to secure Akatsuki's position in Ame, but it can be done. After that, we'll have one less border to guard, and that makes things…feasible."

"They're going to ask you to face Hanzō again." The worry is clear in Sakumo's eyes. "You and Jiraiya and Tsunade—the Hokage won't send anyone else against him. And that's only the first battle. Once this war starts, we'll be the first they turn to."

"Then we'll have to be certain we end things quickly." Orochimaru leans forward, dropping his head against Sakumo's chest. "Don't borrow trouble, mutt," he says, faintly aggravated. "There will be fighting, and death, and blood. But you won't die, and neither will I, and neither will Kakashi. Between the White Fang, the Densetsu no Sannin, and the Yellow Flash, Konoha is strong. We have superior shinobi, and Sarutobi-sensei has always been stubborn."

"As a goat," Sakumo agrees with a chuckle. "All right, I'll save the worry for another day. Is that all we're having for dinner, then, lovely?"

Orochimaru rolls his eyes. "If you wanted something fancier, you should have suggested takeout," he says tartly. "Go call the boys, I'll set the table."

Sakumo showily kisses his cheek, pinches his ass, and deftly dodges the furious kick Orochimaru directs at him. He's laughing when he ducks into the hallway, one of Orochimaru's senbon thudding into the wall where his head was moments ago, and Orochimaru swears after him, just making him laugh harder.

"You mange-ridden mutt!" Orochimaru hisses. "I will gut you!"

"I adore you, lovely!" he calls back, voice full of mirth and mischief in equal measure, and then, "Are you decent, boys? Should I get out the chastity belts and marriage licenses?"

There's an offended squawk from Kakashi, a mortified splutter from Obito, and a bright cackle from Sakumo. Orochimaru sighs aggrievedly and rubs a hand over his brow, belatedly realizing just what it is he seems to have so willingly volunteered for.

Still, he's smiling faintly when he moves to lay out places at the table, because for all the disasters of the past few days, for all the war that's looming, this feels rather like the perfect culmination of home.

He glances back towards the hallway, catching a glimpse of Sakumo toppling to the ground with Kakashi and Obito both on top of him, and shakes his head bemusedly before he turns away. Half a moment later there's a thunder of footsteps as Sakumo races into the kitchen, both boys on his heels as he laughs. He lunges, catching Orochimaru around the waist before he can sidestep, and throws him over his shoulder again with a cry of victory before he bolts for the garden. Kakashi is shouting, Obito giggling so hard he can barely run, and Orochimaru hisses in indignation and slaps Sakumo around the head, but doesn't go for the kunai up his sleeve, which he supposes is the same as allowing it to happen.

Orochimaru knows he shouldn't indulge the cheerful fool, but—

He lets Sakumo drag him away with one big, calloused hand tangled in his, laughter warm in his ears, and doesn't speak of word of protest, because somehow he knows.

(They've managed to save each other, in the end.)