#crim fucking tricked me into loving these two AND NOW IM FUCKING CRYING OVER THEM AND THE STUPID CARTOON IM SO GODFISTING ANGRY

[pastelgrungewrecker]

Fools and Heroes

((Fucka u @crimsbie for WOUNDING ME HOW COULD YOU anyway this is pretty much a sequel of some kind to my previous drabble about these two- commissions are killing me i needed a break from plotmaps))

He’s my Sun He makes me Shine Like D i a m o n d s

She wound salt-white locks around her fingers, swearing that they twitched in response even though he slept soundly- the rumble in his chest ominous and welcoming all at once.

She tugged, a half smile on her face, and he hummed in a sleepy response, the arm around her waist tightening slightly and his chest expanding with a deep inhale and slow exhale- his eyes never opened.

She felt warmth blossom in her chest, felt herself soften in a way she rarely allowed.

The edges of his eyes were damp.

A thick lock of his mane, call it what you will that’s what it was, still looped around her finger as she cupped his cheek and let her thumb brush away an already dried trail that hid in the red lines on his face.

One day he’d remember to scrub all the paint off before collapsing into bed. She couldn’t help the bitter smile on her face as she acknowledged the reasons he often forgot- for lack of a better term.

“Always prepared to leap to defense; some gallant hero in a novel no one remembers.”, she whispers.

“The fool in a court no one bothers to acknowledge anymore.”

She froze as he answers- as his eyes ease open and show tired stormcloud grey and the crystalline starlight of the beginnings of a fresh wave of tears. He turns his head away, she makes a sound of annoyance and tugs gently at the saltwhite lock around her finger before her hand returns to its position against his cheek.

“Jiraiya.”

Silence.

“...Love, for all you insist I don’t swallow my pain- why do you make yourself do it?”

“...Because.”

“Because why, Jiraiya.”

“...Because I am... I’m nothing like you, Tsunade.”, he says, softly, gently- the tone of someone long since resigned to a self-fulfilling prophecy, “I’m a failure- I’m a fool who trusts the wrong people and jumps in at the wrong moment; I proclaim myself the hero of the story only to find out I should have stayed the comic relief, I-”

Tsunade’s face fell with each word he whispered, like a confession, like a plea. All this time he carried these words next to his heart like mulberry thorns and hollybush barbs and still... Still he wiped her tears and pleaded for Orochimaru to come back to them.

Still he taught and laughed and wrote and joked and allowed himself to be the butt of every joke if it meant those around them would get a respite from the suffering so often in the air.

She gives a shake, letting his arm fall away from her waist as she sits up- her nightclothes loose and comfortable and almost like tucked back angel wings in the moonlight as she tugs at that snowshade lock of wild hair coiled carefully as new wool around her finger.

He grunts, clearly annoyed at being caught upset. She narrows her eyes, and tugs harder.

“I’ll yank it off, old toad.”

“Rude of you, slug queen.”

They kept their faces serious for only a moment before dissolving into tired chuckles as he followed her silent direction.

She hummed happily, guiding him to sit up so that she could ease behind him- nudge him forward, settle her legs and release his hair in favor of wrapping her arms around him and easing him back.

He settles against her, ear near her heartbeat and feeling her naturally warm hand smooth over his temple and stroke down over his hair.

“You don’t need to pretend around me, Jiraiya.”, she murmurs to him; feeling his hand move up to clutch carefully at her arm, “I don’t care what others have said, I stopped listening to them fifty years ago, clearly.”

A weak chuckle, throaty and shaking.

“There’s no... judge, or jury, here. Just me, love.”, she continues, “It’s just me.”

She feels him press against her plush chest, nuzzling towards her heartbeat even as she feels drops of heat from the newly freed tears of grief and insecurity.

“And I’ve already found you more than worthy of golden glory, in spades.”, her voice is a soft hum as the moonlight spills over rumpled sheets and their worn figures, “I’ve found you more than worthy of glory and praise and love and all those things you think these supposed failures have the right to deny you.”

He hiccups.

The sound is muffled and nearly unnoticable, but she sees the way long legs are drawn up and the way his good arm moves down to wrap tightly around her. 

She hums low in her throat, gently rocking him to and fro as he clung to her like a lifeline- years upon years of strength crumbling for the first time and she gritted her teeth in a surge of anger- at herself, at others, at some lost to time; for not seeing it sooner.

She tightened her embrace, leaned back slightly in a wordless demand for him to move closer, to curl tighter and bury his face against her smooth neck like she’d done to him so many times over so many decades.

She was fierce as she was lovely, steel wrapped within silk; gold in flake, mercury in the raw.

Beautiful and deadly for years upon years and tonight she left it at the door for the sake of a man she hadn’t realized she wanted to stay until he was almost forever gone.

“Sssssh, love...”, she murmured as he grieved silently.

“I’m here for you.”, she whispered, knowing those stormcloud eyes had stagnated into a mourning fog.

“Let the world turn without you tonight- I’ll keep you safe.”

His eyes drifted closed, damp and swollen, as he pressed against her so tight they almost blended together.

They fell back asleep, coiled together like mourning glory vines over an unmarked grave; her fingers tangled in a thick white mane and his head on her chest as the red lines beneath his eyes were dimmed and broken apart by dried tear tracks.