Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Tea

She was shaking as she opened the door and stamped into her apartment. She slammed the door behind her, and kicked off her sandals. One spun out into the main room, knocking the low table gracing the center of the room a full six inches back. Wincing at the scraping sound, she swore viciously, then removed the other sandal a little more carefully.

A head poked out from the bedroom, brown hair swinging loose around his face, the ends just brushing his shoulders. "You're back!" The face was quickly followed by a body, and the man gathered her into an embrace. "You're finally home."

She quivered in the circle of his arms, exhausted body still tense and resisting. Her flak vest was thick and cold between them. He tipped his head down, resting his forehead on her shoulder. "I'm so glad," he whispered.

With a hard shove, she pushed him away. He stumbled back and she twisted, facing the wall. "I'm not in the mood. Just leave me alone right now, please."

Her lover stood still, neither advancing nor retreating. She leaned against the cold plaster, letting the wall sap the heat from her face. "Please." Her voice cracked and she squeezed her eyes shut.

She heard his footsteps moving away, then the clatter of dishes in their small kitchen. She sagged a little against the wall, letting the shakes travel up and down her body, clenching her teeth to stop the noise.

Then he was touching her shoulder gently, and the scent of hot tea drifted to her nostrils. "Sit down?" The words rose at the end, a plea rather than a demand. She slid to the floor, and he turned her so her back was against the wall. She took the cup when he pressed it into her hands, and sipped at it when he pushed it towards her lips.

They sat quietly for a while, his arm around her shoulders, the only sound the soft liquid swish as she finished the tea.

"Want to talk?" he finally asked. She had stopped trembling, had let her head drift down to lie against his shoulder.

She shook her head. He took the empty mug from her hands and pulled her closer to him. "That's okay," he murmured. "Just wait a bit. It's okay." He kept talking, mostly nonsense, distracting her with sound. Her eyes slid closed, and she sighed softly.

When he felt her go limp, he slipped an arm beneath her knees and lifted her against his chest. His back protested as he stood, a stabbing pain between two ribs. He gritted his teeth and carried her to the bathroom. It would be better if she didn't wake still covered with dried blood.

He could always lie to the doctors tomorrow if his stitches had ripped.