There was always a low hum of accumulated voices in a bar like this, it went along with the low light and strategically place mirrors behind the bar counter. The owner had long ago given up with trying to sensibly light the place, too many veiled hints about waking up with unwanted guests, had it back to the way the ninja liked it. Small booths tucked round the edge of a large open plan room, the few scattered tables here and there could never fill the free space. This enabled the unusual clients to huddle in semi-privacy or take over the place like wild growing weeds.
Eventually 'By Death's Grace' turn into the only bar in the Konohara set up to keep the mostly shinobi drinkers comfortable. It turned out to be a rather profitable business venture for the now rarely seen owner. He now only hired ex-ninja as staff, again another money making stroke of genius. For come any weekend 'Death's Grace' would turn into a wonderland of chaos and depravity, as Shinobi tended to party hard. Bringing along more than a few drunken brawls and creative if stupid dares that could trash the place.
Tsunade sat at her usual table, openly drinking the latest bottle of sake while facing her head of I&T, while he in turn just sipped chilled juice. Both looked exhausted, as if they would be better off in bed. Yet the Hokage had a few more matters she wanted to wrap up before getting a few hours sleep if she was lucky. "So you think our Iruka crisis is over? " spoke the blond chesty woman.
A plate of food was placed before Tsunade, steam rising to make her mouth water. "Rukin you have my gratitude." She pulled out a smile for the one eyed man who'd been forced out of service before her predecessor untimely death.
While out of habit Ibiki's eyes idly slipped over the room weighing up the mood of the people. "Iruka. Yes now he's found his life-mate that should be that problem solved. Iruka has always been a fairly stable person, but Kakashi... Kakashi will bring another set of problems all of his own." Ibiki slid a hand down his inner thigh, remembering how Kakashi had leant so close, smelling him like some bitch in heat.
It vexed Ibiki, Kakashi's behaviour and his words tormented the large lonely man. What had the copy ninja meant about neither playing the uke role? Ibiki realised his mind was drifting while his superior was trying to debrief him, but then the fifth was also just as distracted with her food and drink. It had been a very long and hard 40 hours coming up.
Tsunade's hand touched his making him jump, feeling like a fool to be so wrapped up in thoughts. Growling under his breath Ibiki had even let his guard down. "Go home, relax some way Ibiki. Tomorrow is another battle and with any luck the latest matched pair will soon be back on there feet." Tsunade waved a vague hand freeing the tall imposing man from the almost pointless talk.
The Hokage watched as Ibiki left hoping that he would take the well meant advice, she herself planed to finish up the sake and pass out in a bed. "Why are all men so thick?" Tsunade's aide rest a light comforting hand over the buxom woman's shoulder.
"My lady Hokage, I believe it's there flawed genetics. However life would be rather boring without such failed specimens walking around the village. By the way Rai and Gen are comfortably passed out at home, you have nothing more to worry about."
Tsunade gave a long sigh and rose unsteady to her feet using the chair and table for extra support. "Then take me home devil woman, before I fall over much to Rukin's amusement and the betting pool."
Most people would not call Ibiki's loft apartment a home, it looked more like a office or artisan's creative space. Four outer walls painted in flowing green blending to blue, there was no other solid wall, furniture mingled each traditional area into the rest of the airy space. Where ever possible Ibiki had placed in windows, some happen to be just blocks of blue or green letting shafts of coloured light. Pastel muslins draped over a huge redwood bed, Ibiki had chose that particular wood on its harness and durability over more modern trends in steel. He got to see enough cold steel at work and here clearly had been set up to help relax the tourter expert.
Ibiki unlaced his boots just inside the door, before tiredly moving across the reclaimed hard wood floor, he also abandoned his trademark leather coat on the lone sofa. Ibiki did not entertain and it showed in the lack of extra seating or other group entertainment. Dumped the take out he no longer hungered for into the compact fridge, for later when his apatite returned.
Debating weather to shower first or just skip forward to the part where he could curl up reading for a few hours. Ibiki felt unsettled, if not apprehensive about stripping. Nude he'd have to face what his mind still wanted to rebel over. The shelved contradiction that Hatake gave birth to, lust of another warm body under him longing for a glimmer of what Iruka had in his eyes. Usually such a practical man, Ibiki had never aspired to anything but a life of loneliness.
On auto poilet Ibiki drifted to the glass enclosed shower cubical, sinful visions of Kakashi tormenting the tired man. With the water temp at that perfect level Ibiki stepped into the warm misting spray, hands running over a scared and pitted body. Ninja never had smooth bodies, yet Ibiki knew his was more extremely ruined than most old timers. There was no way in hell someone like the newly mated Kakashi would want to willingly look let alone sleep with Ibiki. He flatly refused to masturbate, such acts of self-love was to be cherished and not cheeped by pulling them out as a last resort. Let his body rot in hell first.
Frustrated with how his mind and body refused to settle down, or even agree on a cause. To be one moment lusting over milky skin and then plummeting into self loathing. Ibiki could not careless which way it went, be it infatuation or repulsion at the idea of sex happening, anything would be better than the roller coaster he was currently trapped on, he needed to find a way to brake out of this train of thought.
Where the water failed to clam Ibiki's relentless mind, he hoped a book might successfully distract him enough for sleep to catch up with his body. Browsing his current reading pile, half a dozen various titles that did nothing to inspire him to pick-up a single one. Now angry, Ibiki went to make himself a cup of dark tea which he added a few drops of a sleeping draft. He happened to keep such drugs on hand for when insomnia came to pay a visit, dragging along it's mongrel sister misery, inbreed brothers memory and self-loathing.