They always sat across the bar from each other. Always with a direct line of sight. She always arrived at 11. He always strolled in 2 minutes later. He always drank beer and she always drank sake. He always sent a drink to her at 1am. She always raised the glass to him before shooting it back. She always drank five bottles. He always continued to order more beers until she was done. They always left at the same time. They always went home with someone else.
This was how they worked. Every Saturday since she returned to the village; same bar, same routine. They circled each other. Too scared to move closer and too captivated to turn away. They had known each other too long, had too much history that could not be overlooked.
Tsunade knew that he was a good lover. She had heard enough stories over the years from women, kunoichi and civilian alike, who basked in pride of having attracted the most notoriously passionate and imaginative man in Konoha. And now he was also a famous author. There were few woman in all the nations who wouldn't kill for one night in his bed. Tsunade was an exception. While she spent many nights imagining them together and ached to feel his arms around her, she couldn't separate the image of this lover from the annoying, stalking pervert she knew at 13.
Jiraiya knew that he always wanted Tsunade. Every since he was 13 he had imagined being with her. And she continued to haunt him all these decades later. Every woman was compared to her and all fell short of the one woman he could never have. And he knew it would always be this way. Because he didn't just want her for her body. He wanted her for the way she got angry and crushed buildings. For the way she drank sake, slowly and delicately, with all the practice and tolerance of an alcoholic. For the way she smiled when she knew she had won and was about to work you like putty in her hands. For the way she gambled, with all the hope and determination of a loud, blond genin with dreams of Hokage. For the ways she said his name, sad and warning and angry and peaceful and frustrated and resigned and fearful and nostalgic and happy and trusting, always in a way that no one else could copy, a way that was only for him.
Tsunade knew that, for all she pretended that her memories of a young Jiraiya were the reasons that kept her away, really they were what pulled her in. She needed him for the way he knew her, deep and long and before the world blurred in war and death and betrayal. She needed him for his determined optimism and his uncanny ability to always come back alive. She needed him for the way he always pursued her, no matter how many times she ran away.
And still they circled each other. Far enough away to not get hurt. Close enough to survive and to hope.
Until one Saturday, exactly 50 years from the day they first met, when he arrives first and sits in her spot. And instead of taking his position at the other side of the bar, she walks over to him and settles in the seat directly beside him. They both order beer but drink only two bottles each before leaving together. They don't go home. They go to the top of the Hokage monument and sit on top of their sensei's head. It's cold so they sit with her back to his chest and their arms tangled together. They don't say a single word the entire night. And when the sun rises, knowing that the majority of their years are gone, knowing that they waited too long, they leave the village. They entrust the future to a fearless blond jonin who always keeps his word and his friends who could no longer imagine a world in which he didn't become Hokage. They leave because while Konoha is home, while its the place they met and grew up, while its the place they watched each others backs and saved lives, it is also the place that they'll never be together. Konoha was distance, close enough to feel the gravity but not enough to get pulled in. They walk away. They walk away because Tsunade is too stubborn and Jiraiya too persistent for them not to find each other in the end. And as these two circling bodies collide, Kami help any poor soul within 20 miles.