#no16

“There have been a lot of accidents lately,” Buck points out, his face burning when he remembers how he tripped on a towel and managed to bump his head on the edge of the sink, shocking the hell out of them both. Or when he fell out of bed while they were making out. His back hurt for days after that, reminding him that he’s only getting older.

“Well. Remember you’re not the only one having accidents,” Tommy reminds him with a lopsided smile. “And now that you have moved in, we can at least help each other fast. But we should be a little bit more careful. If we both have an accident together, we might have to call 911…”

That makes Buck chuckle. He also feels warmth spreading in his chest. Yes. He moved in. He was a little nervous about it, he’s not going to lie. Because he couldn't stop thinking about what would happen if Tommy finally decided that Buck was too much when he had him around all the time? What if Buck would be too clingy or too rambly or too everything? What if would be too annoying or would constantly forget about something important and misplace Tommy's things? He was nervous. But Tommy managed to make him feel less anxous. Right at the start, Tommy had Buck sit down on the couch and tell him a few things about himself. A few things that, as Tommy put it, freaked other people out in the past. Enough to make them leave or laugh or, worse, be mean about it.

“I feel comfortable enough with you to trust you with this,” Tommy explained. “But you have to be honest with me. Because if any of this bothers you, you … you have to tell me immediately instead of making me think that this can work only to … to move out again, you understand?” 

Buck swallowed. His chest clenched because Tommy looked … scared. He nodded. “I understand.” Tommy continued. “Okay. I’m going to be as direct as possible. I’m having nightmares. On the regular. They are bad. Bad enough to make me talk or scream. Sometimes, I even sleepwalk. I also have some habits that might seem strange to you. There are … some kinds of food I can’t eat or can’t smell. As a child, I was forced to eat them anyway. But as an adult, I can make decisions for myself and you have to accept that I’m not cooking or eating certain things. Also, there might be times when my social battery runs out and I have to be alone. It’s not personal. It’s not because of you. It just happens and I’m going to be quiet and withdrawn.”

He stops, taking a deep breath. “That’s it.”

“Okay,” Buck said, making a mental note to look up what helps in case of nightmares.

“Okay?” Tommy echoed, raising a brow. “Just … okay?”

Buck smiled. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you for trusting me with this. I love you.”

Tommy exhaled shakily. Slowly, a smile spread on his own face. “I love you too. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Buck remembered his own fears. He nodded. “Yes.”

They were able to calm each other’s worries that day. Showed each other that they could talk about everything and would respect each other’s boundaries. It was a good day. And Buck went to sleep in Tommy’s bed thinking that this was going to work.

And it does.

Another pinprick of pain pulls him back to the present. He looks down at his hand, not able to see any more sparkly intruders. There are just a few red dots where the shards made him bleed.

Tommy places another piece of glass in the bowl. “I think we got all,” he says and puts the tweezers away.

“I’m going to disinfect your hand now,” he warns, reaching for the disinfection spray.

Buck grimaces and he has to force himself to sit still while the liquid hits his injured hand. It burns like hell.

Tommy hums in sympathy. “Sorry. I’m done now. Let’s wrap it up,” he says, putting the spray away and starting to unroll a bandage from their first aid kit. When he looks up, he notices Buck staring at him. “What?” Tommy asks with a small smile. Buck shrugs. “Nothing. Just … You look cute with those glasses.”

Tommy chuckles. “Thanks.” He wraps the bandage around Buck’s hand tightly and neatly. “All done. Want me to try to kiss your ouchie away now?” Tommy asks with a grin and sparkling eyes.

Buck nods, not able to look away, transfixed by the blue. “Please do,” he says, raising his hand with an exaggeratedly pitiful pout. “I will need at least a hundred kisses though. And cake.”

Tommy laughs, placing a gentle kiss on the back of Buck's bandaged hand. "Kisses and cake. Got it."

“Make yourself comfortable,” Kakashi encouraged, pushing the door to his apartment wider. Dust motes floated across his vision, and he wished he’d taken some time to clean before inviting Tenzo over, but there hadn’t been time. “Did you want to take a shower or something?”

Tenzo shook his head without speaking, moving toward the couch. He sank onto the cushions and fidgeted with his pants leg. “You don’t have to do this senpai. I’m okay to go home.”

Humming under his breath, Kakashi nodded. “You might be ready, but I’m not sure that I am.”

It had been less than two hours since Tenzo was released from the hospital where he’d stayed for two days. Tsunade said the man was physically well enough after his ordeal, but his mental state was another story. She didn’t quite suggest that Kakashi should stay with him, but the implication was there. He hadn’t needed it. Kakashi wasn’t going to let Tenzo out of his sight.

“Can I get you anything?” Kakashi asked, glancing toward the kitchen. “Something to eat? Water? A stiff drink?”

Tenzo sighed. “I don’t need or want anything. I’m fine.”

You’re not fine. You were just tortured. You lost so much blood that Sakura couldn’t heal you. You almost died in my arms. The panicked thoughts raced through Kakashi’s mind, but he nodded instead of acknowledging them. “Okay.”

The pair sat in silence for several minutes while Tenzo looked everywhere except Kakashi. Deciding to leave him in peace, Kakashi pulled Icha, Icha off the table and started leafing through the familiar book. None of the words sank in. Tenzo glanced over once, but Kakashi kept his eyes on the page. Minute dragged toward an hour without speaking, but he did nothing to break it. Tenzo visibly relaxed, shoulders lowering as his breath grew deeper. Still, Kakashi didn’t comment.

A scream shattered the silence, the sound more playful than terrified. Kakashi assumed it was some kids playing, or perhaps a jutsu gone wrong and the inherent teasing that came with that. He turned to ask Tenzo what he thought of it and was shocked to see the whites of the man’s eyes. He sat rigid, hands clenched on the edge of the cushion. Kakashi frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Tenzo shook his head without answering, sucking rapid breaths through his lips. Kakashi set his book aside and moved closer. “I can’t,” Tenzo gasped, eyes darting around the room. “I—”

The man clutched at his heavy flak vest, so Kakashi helped him shrug it off. A shrill breath whistled in Tenzo’s throat as he pushed down the fabric covering his neck. Kakashi raised one hand to the newly revealed skin and pressed. Tenzo’s too fast pulse pounded beneath his fingers. He shied away, eyes on the door like he expected it to crash open at any moment.

“Look at me,” Kakashi pleaded. Another loud crash, likely someone dropping something in the next door apartment, made Tenzo cry out.

On a whim, Kakashi caught Tenzo’s hand and led him deeper into the apartment. The bedroom was furthest away from the noise of the street, especially after Kakashi closed the door and windows. He returned to Tenzo’s side. “You’re safe here,” he whispered, voice growing thick on the words.

Nearly a week ago, Kakashi had no idea where Tenzo was or how badly his mission had gone, only that he needed to find him. He recalled the injuries and blood loss that he’s seen, then the crippling fear that he’d been too late. Promising that he was safe felt dishonest.

“I wish I could promise that nobody else will ever hurt you either,” Kakashi continued, taking another step toward Tenzo. The man raised haunted, questioning eyes. Kakashi brushed over the scar that curled over Tenzo’s cheek. He traced the path toward the man’s temple. “What happened here?”

Tenzo closed his eyes, but his head tipped toward Kakashi’s hand. He exhaled in a soft whoosh and shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know.” Kakashi smoothed his thumb across the area a second time. “But, you need to.”

For a moment, Tenzo didn’t speak or move. The tension between them stretched and grew until Kakashi wondered if he’d made a mistake. Maybe Tenzo wanted to be alone, and the extra attention was making him uncomfortable. Maybe he didn’t want Kakashi around because he blamed him for not getting there soon enough. Maybe he wanted—

“It was from a shuriken when I was first captured,” Tenzo whispered, cringing at even the lightest touch.

Kakashi spied another scar along Tenzo’s jaw and allowed his slide along it until skin met fabric. He eased the half mask down and let it hang toward his chest. Tenzo blew out a breath as the pad of Kakashi’s thumb followed the scar toward his shoulder. He tried not to think about how close the slash had come to ending his life. The opposite shoulder rose in a shrug. “A kunai.”

Though Kakashi had seen the damage first hand, there had been too much blood to catalogue the injuries. With a questioning sound he reached for the hem of Tenzo’s shirt. When the younger man didn’t stop him, he raised it. It took considerable control not to gasp at the roadmap of torture written across the pale skin. Kakashi laid the garment aside and sucked in a breath that provided too little air.

Kakashi smoothed a palm over the man’s right side, surprised the man shifted away from the touch. Pale scars ran along Tenzo’s ribs with a deep, puckered scar between two of them, large enough for Kakashi’s knuckle to sink into. He caressed the abused skin, but Tenzo showed no emotion when he answered. “Kabuto punctured my lung, mostly to see if it would reinflate on its own.”

As Kakashi drew back, his hand shook from either rage or sorrow. He didn’t try to figure out which. The skin over Tenzo’s heart was marred with an intricate pattern of scars. When Kakashi’s palm covered the area, Tenzo blew out a breath. “Those were done with a chakra scalpel.”

“Hot metal of some sort, meant to test my body’s ability to heal around cauterization,” Tenzo supplied, indicating a long, dark scar on the side of his stomach. “I passed out before Kabuto could finish the explanation.”

“Flayed,” Tenzo continued in the same monotonous tone, offering his left wrist with an irregular pattern encircling it. He raised his hand to display the missing joint on his left index finger. “I can’t remember what he used for this, only that it hurt like hell. What’s the point of this?”

Shame and guilt threatened to overwhelm Kakashi as he caught Tenzo’s hand. He turned the man’s wrist over and pressed a light kiss to the blemished skin. Tenzo’s breath caught at the movement. “I am so sorry,” Kakashi murmured, accenting each word with a gentle caress. He ended with his lips against a mark behind Tenzo’s ear that he still didn’t know the cause of. “I should have been there.”

Tenzo shuddered, crumbling in an instant. A sob caught in his throat, tangling in his vocal cords without fully forming. Kakashi pulled him closer, slanting their mouths together as if he could capture the pain and erase it. Tenzo clutched his back, fingers digging in painfully. When they broke apart, Tenzo shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I almost lost you,” Kakashi breathed, trying to control the emotion that crept into his voice. “I let you go, and I didn’t say all the things—”