Yamato can count on one hand the amount of times he has ever said no to Kakashi.
The third time Tenzou is eighteen and Tenzou has had it.
Kakashi has not written a single mission report in three years, not since Tenzou volunteered to do it once when Kakashi was in the hospital, and the next time when Kakashi asked him to do it again he agreed to be nice. And then he kept doing it because he wanted to be helpful and useful because Kakashi has helped him in so many ways, has saved his life in so many ways.
But never not once has Kakashi ever shown him any gratitude (and that thing he does with his tongue does not count).
So one day Tenzou figures he is done paying Kakashi back because it isn't just the mission reports. It's also washing his gear and replacing his supplies and sharpening his weapons and preparing his mission packs. It's also dealing with idiotic last-minute strategy changes that could honestly get them all killed if Kakashi wasn't so damn good at his job and also, more likely, just extremely lucky. It's also the constant teasing and lateness and ridiculous excuses when Kakashi is in a good mood, and the relentless near-coma-inducing training when he is in a bad one. It's also letting Kakashi have his way with him some nights and then insist that Tenzou hold him afterwards as if he is the more broken one. As if it's a contest. And yes it makes Tenzou feel trusted and wanted and needed, but sometimes he wants to be the one to be held, to be allowed to break.
And it just takes one more frivolous request, one more patronizing look and one more acerbic comment for Tenzou to decide that he has had it.
So when they return from their most recent mission and Kakashi asks him to write the mission report, Tenzou says no. Or rather, he yells it this time.
Yelling is new to Tenzou. So is anger. This isn't the same dull anger of being picked at and prodded and used and abandoned that has been sitting in the deepest pocket of his soul for as long as he can remember. Or maybe it is.
When Kakashi first hears Tenzou's refusal he laughs, and Kakashi's laughs are rarely ever a sweet thing. They are usually morbid and cutting and scathing as they are now, as if all the bitterness he holds towards life can so easily come slipping off his tongue, and this only makes Tenzou angrier. So Tenzou yells back – because he likes yelling now – "write your own damn report" and "just try living one day without me and see how far you get you manipulative inconsiderate parasite".
Tenzou feels really good for the first few minutes after he leaves and then he feels really bad for most of the time afterwards.
This isn't really about the mission report, and they both know that, probably. They both know that being together feels really good for the most part but then really bad afterwards. ANBU is no place for healthy relationships. ANBU doesn't stop the cracks from forming, and kisses don't make them any smaller, and arms, no matter how strong, can't hold the pieces together forever. They both know this even on the windless nights when they try. But they also both know that without each other in ANBU they likely wouldn't have survived this long, for the simple fact that they would have had no reason to.
Tenzou wonders that night if maybe love is supposed to hurt. Maybe it is supposed to take and take and leave you empty and never give. He wouldn't know. He has never felt anything like this before. Maybe it is better not to feel. Maybe it is better just to play the perfect wooden soldier he was always meant to be.
The next day their former teammate annihilates his entire clan. Team Ro is sent to clean up the bodies. Tenzou writes up the report without being asked, and Kakashi leaves ANBU. Tenzou knows it has nothing to do with their fight and everything to do with their traitorous former teammate and the darkness growing in Kakashi's heart, but Tenzou still selfishly wishes that he could have saved his no in order to stop Kakashi from leaving.
This isn't the same dull sadness of being picked at and prodded and used and abandoned that has been sitting in the deepest pocket of his soul for as long as he can remember. Or maybe it is.