"Jiraiya-sama?"

Jiraiya raised his head, rubbing his face. "I'm awake. What is it?" he said, squinting and trying to figure out what he'd been plotting on the map he'd dozed off on. He wiped absently at the spot of drool it had gained since he last consciously looked at it.

"Tsunade-sama says she needs you. Right now. For Orochimaru-sama. . ."

Jiraiya stiffened. Orochimaru had been brought back by his squad flushed and sweaty - both alarmingly strange for him - hours ago . . . possibly more than a day, by now, and if he had been anyone else they would have assumed poison instantly. But . . . it was Orochi. Tsunade had taken charge of him and last Jiraiya had seen them she'd been confident if worried. And stressed.

Jiraiya bypassed the messenger and sped across the camp to the tent Tsunade had commandeered to look after their teammate. Surely it hadn't been poison after all, it was Orochimaru, he didn't get- But if it had been- If it was poison surely Tsunade could have. . .

"Hime! What happened?" Jiraiya asked as soon as he burst into the tent.

Tsunade raised a hand, flapping it at him tiredly. "Shush. He's sleeping for now, I'd like him to stay that way if we can keep him down." she said, and she sounded exhausted. If anything worse than she looked, sitting beside the cot holding Orochimaru, slouched almost onto his chest, her elbow braced on the cot but her body sagging lower with every breath all the same.

". . .he's okay?" Jiraiya asked, moving nearer and looking down at Orochimaru instead. He was still flushed and now considerably more sweaty and mussed than he had been when Jiraiya had left them.

"Okay?" Tsunade repeated, and drew a deep breath, sighing. "No. Not yet. He . . . should be, though. Soon. He only needs watching now . . . and it needs to be one of us, and I have to sleep." She looked up at Jiraiya, just shy of pleading.

"Don't even need to ask." Jiraiya assured her, finding the energy from somewhere to pull on a wide, bright grin for her and glad she was almost certainly too tired to reflexively check him over before she left them. "I'll watch him. Uh. . ."

"He just-" Tsunade hauled herself up, stroking Orochimaru's sweat-soaked hair back from his brow. "Fever's stable, but a fever at all wrecks his system. He's not built to handle them, and fevers can be . . . too much for the body already. He's delirious, and when he wakes he's upset; he doesn't always get what's going on, and he has no filter on his mouth. One of us needs to be here because he trusts us, because there's all kinds of things in Orochimaru's head that shouldn't be spread around, and . . . because," she added with a regretful sigh, "just in case, we can restrain him."

Jiraiya nodded understanding. Tsunade spent a little longer - probably longer than she should have, now that she was on her feet she looked on the verge of collapse - explaining to him and checking Orochimaru over one more time, then finally let Jiraiya nudge her out of the tent to make her wobbly way to her own bed.

Jiraiya sat down at Orochimaru's side, taking Tsunade's abandoned chair, a little calmer now from his initial panicked reaction at the news Tsunade had sent for him, immediately, for Orochimaru.

It was still . . . beyond strange to see Orochimaru like this. Jiraiya didn't much care for the change, either. "You're supposed to be our cold, tetchy snake . . . not like this." he said softly, brushing Orochimaru's face with the backs of his knuckles. Jiraiya might be used to more than the implacable, unruffleable figure that Orochimaru presented to most people, but this was still . . . so very not right.

Orochimaru was mostly still, eyes closed, though he trembled and made tiny sounds of pain or distress from time to time. Jiraiya's mouth twisted. He stroked Orochimaru's arm with the flat of his hand, humming soothingly when he began to stir with a little more conscious effort, lashes fluttering open to reveal glazed golden eyes.

"Hey Orochi." Jiraiya said gently, watching closely, wondering if Orochimaru knew where he was. He hissed, grimacing and writhing, and struggled when Jiraiya tried to still him, dragging blankets back up over him. "Hush, hush, it's okay. . ." he soothed repetitively as Orochimaru went through spurts of weak fighting and short rests between.

Orochimaru didn't seem to really notice him properly before eventually fading back into sleep or unconsciousness. Jiraiya sighed. That was. . . Seeing Orochimaru when he was awake - as awake as he seemed to be capable of, currently - was even more worrying.

Jiraiya eased and restrained him through several more bouts of semi-consciousness - once he definitely knew who was with him, and Jiraiya's heart had squeezed at both the fond smile Orochimaru had offered and the slightly slurred words. It wasn't that Jiraiya wasn't aware of how Orochimaru felt about him, about both of them, but it was not the kind of thing that was spoken.

That time Orochimaru returned to sleep with his fingers wrapped around Jiraiya's wrist, grip eventually loosening as he slept.

Only once had he seriously fought, and Jiraiya had narrowly avoided his long fangs as they snapped forwards quicker than expected - he could feel a nasty bruise forming on his chest, a little lower than his heart, from dodging down directly into Orochimaru's knee as he lashed out, but better that than a bite. It had taken Jiraiya a worryingly long few minutes to restrain him, wearing himself out - he was tired; they'd spent too long on the fringes of the border in near-constant battles already - and concerned for the damage he might do to Orochimaru's already worn and struggling body.

Another time he had been deeply confused, ranting about or possibly to their sensei and Jiraiya's stomach had knotted at some of the things implied. He wanted to go yell at Sarutobi-sensei a bit himself, piecing together some of what he had evidently told Orochimaru, dismissing him or distrusting him.

Orochimaru was a cold snake but he . . . he wasn't that, and their sensei. . .

Jiraiya reminded himself it was far too late to make a difference and that their sensei hardly involved himself in their lives now anyway. He hadn't in years. They no longer needed him and he had more important things to focus on. Jiraiya reached up and squeezed Orochimaru's arm, watching his face, twisting and pinching as he panted and groaned in his uneasy rest.

As Jiraiya had guessed, it wasn't long before he woke again, whimpering and muttering mostly unintelligible words on choked breaths. "Easy. . ." Jiraiya soothed, his own voice rasping a little. He could use some tea, if nothing else, but he had been afraid to leave Orochimaru long enough to fetch anything, even to call for someone else to bring him something here. Besides, nothing was going to help him properly at this point but a good sleep. "It's all right, Orochi. It's Jiraiya. You're safe." he said patiently, the words he had repeated so many times already going a bit fuzzy in his head from exhaustion.

Orochimaru shook his head, his whole body shifting with the movement, shuddering, muscles twitching. Jiraiya rose, prepared to fight to keep him down again. He wished he knew if Orochimaru was actually doing any better, though at least he didn't seem to be getting any worse.

"Wolf. . . Wolf. . ." Orochimaru began to keen, and Jiraiya sighed, pressing him down as he thrashed.

"No wolves here, Orochi. Promise. Safe as houses." Jiraiya said, a little breathless from the effort, as Orochimaru lashed out at him. Orochimaru continued to call out, all but yowling the word, writhing under Jiraiya's restraining grip. "No wolf!" Jiraiya repeated, louder. He wondered why the hell Orochimaru's loopy brain had fixed on that as a threat to be concerned about. Wolves. Really.

Orochimaru thrashed and bucked and whimpered, slowly weakening even though he didn't seem to be calming. His hair stuck to his sweaty face, which had flushed deeper once again, still an unsettlingly strange sight. It made Jiraiya's stomach twist with sickening worry.

Jiraiya groaned and dropped back into the chair as Orochimaru's strength gave out, feeling a little bad for pressing him so far. But he simply wouldn't calm otherwise, or stop, and Jiraiya was afraid he'd hurt himself worse somehow if not restrained.

". . .heart." Orochimaru breathed weakly.

Jiraiya's pulse jumped and he leapt right back to his feet. "Heart? If your heart feels-" If there was something wrong with Orochimaru's heart then they needed Tsunade; Jiraiya would be less than useless for that level of problem.

"Heart. . ." Orochimaru whimpered, his golden eyes wet with tears and glazed beneath that, unfocused even as his gaze landed on Jiraiya's face.

"How does your heart feel?" Jiraiya asked, leaning over his friend. He nudged Orochimaru's cheek, trying to get him to focus, if he could. Jiraiya repeated the question, resting his hand over Orochimaru's heart very lightly. He could feel it beating in Orochimaru's slender chest, and at least to his untrained senses, didn't seem off or weak.

Orochimaru looked at him, eyes still not quite focusing correctly. "J'raiya?"

"Yeah, Orochi. It's me." Jiraiya said, swallowing, feeling a tiny flicker of relief. Just seeing Orochimaru register reality again was a little reassuring. "Your heart?" he prompted, still anxious. "How does it feel?"

Orochimaru was silent for long enough Jiraiya thought perhaps he didn't understand the question - or had forgotten there was one. "Hurts. . ." he finally said on a whimper, however, and Jiraiya swallowed anxiously. That couldn't be good. Perhaps he ought to send for Tsunade to return . . . but she was so exhausted, her reserves had to be gone.

"Are you. . . How do you feel? What hurts?" Jiraiya asked, glancing towards the entrance of the tent, calculating how quickly he could get someone to fetch Tsunade and be back at Orochimaru's side.

"Mate!" Orochimaru cried shakily, and Jiraiya startled. "Want my mate." He sniffled miserably, eyes closing, lashes wet as he took rough, hitching breaths. "Wolf-heart. . ."

Jiraiya's eyes widened. ". . .what?" he asked, sinking back into the chair. That was . . . entirely different. Mate?

"Wolf-heart?" Jiraiya repeated, the words feeling as odd as they sounded.

"Mine!" Orochimaru snapped, letting out an angry hiss that faded even more swiftly than it had come. "Want. . . Wolf-heart. . . Please," he stretched the sibilants out, writhing weakly, "need you, want. . ."

Jiraiya caught his clumsily reaching hand as it began to fall, clasping it soothingly. He didn't even know who Orochimaru was longing for - who he was calling his mate, or a wolf, what even - and he certainly couldn't bring them for him.

Orochimaru cried quietly and Jiraiya's heart ached for being unable to soothe his friend, even as Orochimaru's weak calls grew slowly further and further apart. It hurt all the more because seeing Orochimaru cry was . . . surreal, it was so rare. He squeezed Orochimaru's hand, offering what reassurances he could, though he wasn't sure his friend was even hearing him any longer.

Eventually he went entirely quiet again, and Jiraiya kept hold of his hand, but stopped trying to speak to him, only watching over him silently.

Jiraiya watched his best friend as they approached their village, noting the way his steps lightened, the faint softening of his face, wondering how he had missed these signs before. Orochimaru was difficult to read . . . but he wasn't so hard for Jiraiya or Tsunade, they had known him through twenty years and more of being closer than Jiraiya could have imagined any family.

He grinned obligingly at the gate chuunin welcoming the Sannin home, moving through the gates with an arm slung around each of his teammates, who . . . perhaps endured it with their differing methods of grace more than submitted willingly to the half embrace. In any case they let him keep them close all the way up to report to their sensei.

Jiraiya's words to Sarutobi-sensei may have been a little more clipped than he could have reasonably explained if anyone questioned him; faced with their sensei he could not but remember feverish, half-sobbed words in his friend's broken voice and Orochimaru's solemn face when they were younger.

Once they were dismissed, the three of them lingered briefly outside the Hokage Tower, Jiraiya hauling them both in for a lingering hug, before parting to their own homes or whatever method of relaxation would let them come down from mission mode to settle back into the village.

Jiraiya . . . hesitated - he was tired, and dirty, and he could perhaps do with some friendly company - but he was curious, and he felt ashamed that he hadn't known there was someone in Orochimaru's life. Not that Orochimaru had let it show, exactly - not surprising; he was on the whole not particularly open. Perhaps Jiraiya should instead have asked, he thought as he turned to follow a different road than he usually would have, but that . . . wasn't really how he and Orochimaru did things, and never had been.

Jiraiya wondered if Orochimaru knew he was following, but did it anyway, trailing after his friend quietly. He wondered who Orochimaru had been calling for, had been so desperate for in his pain and fever . . . had brightened - as much as Orochimaru ever brightened - for as they approached the village.

There was no one, though; Orochimaru went home, alone. He remained alone, save for Jiraiya himself and Tsunade, through the days after, and Jiraiya began to wonder how strong the delirium had been. Had Orochimaru . . . invented someone in his mind?

Was his friend truly so lonely?

Jiraiya was working on an outline for his next book and lounging in the outskirts of training ground seventeen while Orochimaru went through kata - even Jiraiya cringed a little at some of the twists and extensions his friend was capable of with the soft physique technique, familiar as the sight was - when he got the first hint that there might be something real behind Orochimaru's delirious pleas after all.

His brows rose as Hatake Sakumo approached, scuffed up and a little mussed, probably just back in - in fact, Jiraiya thought he'd heard something from the gate guards about him returning, on his way to the Hokage after his mission, earlier. Jiraiya eyed the man. If it were him, and he'd no responsibilities left to discharge, he'd want a bath and maybe a bar if not straight home.

The Hatake compound was nowhere near here, though, it was across the village, near the outskirts. He wasn't heading there, at least.

Orochimaru straightened and rose, head snapping around to fix his gaze on the approaching presence. He wondered if Orochimaru would protest Hatake showing up here, although-

Jiraiya's eyes narrowed as he reflexively ran through the seals for one of his favourite sense-extending jutsu - excellent for eavesdropping, officially or not. Hatake, he thought suspiciously. Not unlike the Inuzuka, but quieter . . . and wilder. A thought niggled at him, an instant before he saw Hatake stride right up to Orochimaru with the confidence of someone who either had no idea what he was capable of, or was sure of his own reception.

Apparently he was right to be, because when he reached Orochimaru, Orochimaru was wearing a smile that even Jiraiya rarely saw. Sometimes he forgot Orochimaru could smile like that, wide and gentle rather than sharp; his eerie golden eyes soft and warm.

"Lovely!" Hatake said happily, lunging over the last few steps to reach Orochimaru and catching him around the waist. He pressed against Orochimaru with a thin, doggish sound, rubbing his face against Orochimaru's hair.

"Wolf-heart. . ." Orochimaru said, soft enough that Jiraiya barely heard, even with the eavesdropping jutsu, and ran his fingers through Hatake's spiky ponytail.

Hatake pulled back just a little and lifted Orochimaru in his arms, spinning around with him held up in the air, and Jiraiya's eyes nearly bugged out as Orochimaru allowed it, not even lashing out as his feet touched the ground again. He slid his hands over Hatake's shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss that went quickly from I missed you to we don't need a bed when there's a nice patch of grass right here and Jiraiya wondered if he would be slipping away soon to leave them to it. Some things he didn't need to see, spying on his friend or not.

They broke apart a few moments later, though they stayed close, Hatake nuzzling Orochimaru's face and stroking his hair. "I missed you, lovely." he said, his voice warm and rumbling.

Orochimaru's eyes were half-lidded as he leaned into Hatake's shoulder, stroking his side with one hand. "I . . . longed for you terribly, wolf-heart." he said softly, and Jiraiya shifted slightly, uncertain.

"Orochimaru?" Hatake asked, voice a little louder and heavy with concern.

"Our mission was . . . rough." Orochimaru said delicately. "And there were," he paused, "complications. I'll tell you what I can . . . later." Hatake nodded, hugging Orochimaru a little closer to himself again, whining. "I missed you. Let's go somewhere more private," he said, cupping Hatake's face; a teasing smile tugged at his lips, "and somewhere we can get you cleaned up." he added playfully, nudging Hatake with both hands on his jaw.

Hatake laughed, tugging Orochimaru against him, both arms looping around his waist. Orochimaru swayed with it willingly. "Oh, are you going to bathe me?"

Jiraiya's nose wrinkled, but Orochimaru only laughed, soft and deep. "Perhaps I will."

Hatake kissed him again, more briefly this time, nuzzling his cheek before pulling away. "Come home with me?" he asked, sliding his hand over Orochimaru's side as he stepped back.

"Of course." Orochimaru accepted, bowing his head briefly. He flicked a glance up to where Jiraiya sat and Jiraiya froze as their eyes met over Hatake's shoulder. Orochimaru smiled slightly, friendly, and nodded to him before shifting to look at Hatake again. "I've been waiting for your return."

The pair traded another few lingering kisses, accompanied by the wandering of stroking, clinging hands, before they finally left together. Orochimaru allowed Hatake to remain well inside his space as they walked, his soft smile lingering, and Hatake looked . . . smitten and soppy, beneath the weariness he carried, eyes straying constantly back to Orochimaru.

Jiraiya released his jutsu and hummed to himself. He smiled a little. He might have missed something large in his best friend's life - Orochimaru always had been too good at hiding, possibly for his own good - but. . . Orochimaru was happy, that was clear at least. And Jiraiya knew now, with Orochimaru's perhaps amused allowance.