Chapter Text
Jiraiya was sitting in the office waiting room when Tsunade walked in for her shift. It was completely empty save for him, but she still pretended not to notice him, knowing it would rile him up, ignoring him as he waved frantically to get her attention.
“Tsunade!” He rolled his eyes. “I’m the only one here and your first appointment, stop ignoring me.”
“Sorry,” she said, slowly putting on her white jacket and pulling on the lapels. “That’s Dr. Tsunade to you–I’m on the clock.” She gave him a deadpan look, waiting for him to correct himself.
There was a long pause and Jiraiya shifted in his chair, clearly becoming more agitated in the silence of the waiting room. She kept the grin from her face, enjoying the frustration crumpling his handsome face.
“Can I come back with you or are you really going to make me wait longer?” He asked in a flat voice. “Doctor Tsunade?”
“Fine,” she waved him over, pretending to be a grouch about it but in her heart she felt triumphant. “Follow me.”
The walk was short and Jiriaya managed to be quiet the entire time, which was a relief. It was far too early for having a patient–no one usually took these slots, they were a courtesy for emergencies. She looked suspiciously at Jiraiya as she unlocked the heavy door to her office, letting him in first. There was nothing wrong with him that she could tell, which meant that–
“I have to be on the road in an hour,” he told her, sitting on top of her desk. Tsunade’s heart tightened.
“What’s the mission?” She asked, putting her bag down and searching her desk drawers for her stethoscope–an errant bottle of sake rolled to the front of the drawer and she pushed it aside, grabbing the cold rubber. “And you can sit in the chair, there,” she pointed to the chair next to the desk that was for guests.
With a sigh, Jiraiya sat down without complaint. Jiraiya wasn’t making a fuss and he was sticking to a schedule meant that this was serious. “It’s classified–ANBU.”
“Right,” she said with faux pleasantry. “Can you take off your shirt so I can get some vitals?”
Jiraiya winked and Tsunade rolled her eyes, watching him slip off his vest and pulling his shirt’s ties off so they were around his waist. Every time she saw his chest she had to stop herself from sighing and touching it, curling up on his lap and listening to his heart beat.
She opted to listen to his heartbeat through the stethoscope instead; it was more professional and she wouldn’t have her own heart broken this way. They were friends, Tsunade reminded herself as she tapped the stethoscope, listening to it echo in her ears. Always and forever.
His heartbeat was healthy and strong, his chest was so warm that she considered checking for a fever but knew it was probably just him–Jiriaya always ran hot-blooded. They went through the motions of the rest of the physical and he got the same results he did every time he left on a mission: freakishly healthy and seemingly invincible from a medically sound perspective. The thing that would take Jiraiya out would be him not paying attention (likely), an enemy ninja being stronger than he was (less likely but still possible), or that he would be taken out by a freak accident, a bridge collapse or an unstable stream crossing–
“Can I put my shirt back on or do you need it off for something else?” He suggested, voice rough. She looked up at him and he gave her a rakish smile, gesturing to his broad chest.
“You’re insufferable,” she told him with a roll of her eyes. In truth, she was a little disappointed that he would have to pass him and let him go on this mission. The selfish, grief-addled part of her she choked back regularly wanted her to go over his charts again, run her hands over his chest, and find something to flag him as unfit for the mission.
“So, I have another half hour before I need to leave. Anything you want to do before I leave? I would hate for me to die and to leave you a virgin.”
Tsunade blinked at him, taking in his words before turning red in the face. “I’m not a virgin,” she flustered. She realized what she said in horror. Jiraiya’s grin widened and she wanted to throttle him.
“Not that, I mean like I’m not but, fuck–you’re not going to die, Jiraiya!”
“Ok, ok, I won’t,” he held up his hands to pacify her. “I was just kidding–I’m not going off to die.”
She was reeling now from the effect the words still had on her: her throat felt tight and hot and the room was small, her heart beating rapidly. No, he wouldn’t die, and if he did she would bring him back. She was stronger now, she wouldn’t let him die.
Jiraiya stood up quickly and wrapped his arms around her. “Sorry, it was a bad joke. Tsunade, it’s going to be okay. I’ll be back in a week or two,” he muttered against her hair. “Really, it’s a classified mission but it’s not really a big deal from what I gather. I don’t even know the details myself which means that this mission is just covert–probably run of the mill.”
Tsunade swallowed hard, hugging Jiraiya with her face against his bare chest. “Just be careful.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Tsunade. I Promise.”
It was after dinner and Tsunade was cleaning up after a small dinner of takeout. After seeing Jiraiya in the morning, it set the tone for a stressful day. She almost (but didn’t) have a panic attack moments after he shut the door to leave, and spent the rest of the day a little on edge. In an effort to calm herself down, she picked up sushi on the way home and decided that she was going to have a bit to drink, take a relaxing bath, and try not to think about Jiraiya for a minute.
She wasn’t sure where Jiraiya’s mission was but she knew that no matter where he was going that he was probably there by now. ANBU moved quickly which is why she was rarely appointed onto the teams. Who was with him–the others were picked earlier and had their clearances, or were seen by other doctors–and was he leading the squad? If he was, it would mean that he could be in more danger than what was typically accounted for.
Gripping the edge of the sink, she shook her head hard, dog-like. She couldn’t just sit around worrying about him: he was going to be fine. He had to be, he promised her. Worrying about him like an old maid at home when she wasn’t even his wife, hell, she’d never even slept with the guy.
Those boundaries were in place so that she didn’t do this exact thing, staying up and worrying herself sick about him. When she lost Dan it wasn’t so much a realization that she couldn’t love another, it was that she couldn’t love another man who was in the profession of killing. There were too many things to worry about; hell, even sometimes having Jiraiya in her life as her friend was too much. But at least she could put the boundary forward of telling herself that there was only a certain threshold of worrying that friends did–even if she was a friend that harbored secret, complicated feelings.
The bathtub was filled, the mirror she was standing in front of was fogged and distorted. She took a deep breath, stopped gripping the sink. That bottle of sake was originally for after her bath when she was reading, but what the hell, she could drink some of it in the bath, too.
When she was just stepping into the bath there was a slamming at the door. She jumped nearly out of her skin and if she wasn’t a ninja she probably would have slipped and fell. Most accidents that happened in the house came from getting in and out of the bath and shower. Scowling, she tied her bathrobe on and stomped towards the front door.
Tsunade swung it open, ready to give someone a piece of her mind for slamming on her door.
Jiraiya was standing there, smiling at her, wearing ANBU black with a frog mask pulled over the part of his long hair. He gave her a wide smile, and moved towards her without her inviting him in, his face professionally blank and his pupils dilated.
Something was wrong.
“Tsunade, my love,” he said, stepping into her house. “The door was locked.”
“That’s because I locked it,” she said slowly, closing the door behind her. Was lover a code word? Was someone following him? She hoped she didn’t have to punch someone in the face in her bathrobe, it was new and she didn’t want to get blood on it. “Why are you here?”
“Because you’re here,” he told her, tilting his head, as if she was the curious thing.“I came home to you, my love.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Tsunade,” he said confidently. “And I am Jiraiya,” he placed a hand on his chest.
Tsunade gave him a suspicious nod, looking him over. He was definitely Jiraiya, this wasn’t a clone or an imitation, she could tell from his faint chakra signature. Normally, ANBU were required to remove their masks completely to keep anonymity. He had the presence of a civilian despite standing in the gear of a man sent to kill.
“Jiriaya, where are you supposed to be?” Tsunade asked, blunt. “You went out for a mission this morning and told me it would take you a week or two to come home.”
Jiraiya’s eyes widened as he thought. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I don’t remember.”
Tsunade sighed, her bath water was getting cold and she could tell that was being genuine. “Okay, I’m going to try something,” she pointed at the cushion on her living room floor. “I need to get dressed first, so sit there and I’ll be back.”
“I can go with you,” he offered. “In case you needed some help getting changed.”
“No!” She sighed again. Now she knew this wasn’t an imitation of him: the perversion was a unique feature.
She came out of the bedroom dressed in her pajamas and Jiraiya gave her another blank, excited smile. “Ok,” she sat in front of him and gave him a reassuring smile and brought her chakra into the tips of her fingers.
“This may hurt a bit, like being stabbed with a bunch of tiny needles at once. Hopefully, I can get it here and not have to take you to the hospital because that could get….” She didn’t want to worry him and search for the right thing to say. “Out of hand.”
Jiriya’s smile dropped. “What do you mean?”