Chapter 3

Kankuro woke up before his father did. He had the chance to lie in bed and watch his father slowly regain consciousness. He lay on his side, cupping his head in his hand, propping himself up on his elbow. He was comfortable and he really didn't want to move or get out of bed, but he knew both those things were in his near future. God, he hated mornings. Why couldn't they just die?

His father let out a soft moan and shifted, stretching his legs out and turning his head to one side against the pillow. He felt the covers with clumsy fingers.

Kankuro watched with interest. He'd never had the opportunity to watch his father wake up before.

"Why am I in bed?" Yondaime mumbled.

"Because I put you here," Kankuro retorted. "What? Were you gonna pass out on the couch?"

Yondaime blinked and turned his head, taking in the sight of his teenaged son. "Oh. Hello, Kankuro."

"Hello to you, too," Kankuro said. He didn't miss the way that his father's 'I'm so cool and everything is okay' mask was back on, otherwise known as The Teasing Father.

"Did you sleep well last night?" Yondaime asked.

Kankuro narrowed his eyes at his father. "Fine. You?"

"Well…" His father cleared his throat and sat up. "I think so." He ran his fingers through his hair. His auburn hair was sticking up in all directions more than usual, mussed by his pillow. "But I can't really remember much." He glanced over at the nightstand and saw that Karura's picture was face down.

"Ah…" Kankuro scrambled out of his father's bed and righted his mother's picture. "Sorry about that. I had to…um…" He fidgeted and then gave his father a sheepish smile. "A lot of things happened last night, and one of them was that you wouldn't stop crying when you looked at Mom's picture. So I…" He gestured helplessly, pantomiming.

Yondaime folded the covers back and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stopped at that explanation and glanced at Kankuro, then studied Karura's smiling face behind the glass of the frame. "Oh." His gaze slowly slid back to Kankuro.

Kankuro fidgeted again, unable to help it. The few times he'd been yelled at for something – knocking over a potted plant while chasing his cat, letting his anger getting the best of him and lashing out with his puppet inside the house, starting an argument with Temari – those times had all been preceded by this unsmiling, thoughtful look on his father's face.

"Was I trouble, then?" Yondaime asked quietly.

Kankuro's anxiety deflated, and his shoulders slumped. Now he was just sad. "No, Dad. You weren't any trouble. It was no problem."

Yondaime studied him for another moment. "Ah." He rose and stretched, walking across the room towards the door to the master bathroom. "You'll excuse me, then. I'll be right down, after I've taken a shower."

Kankuro nodded, his gaze traveling to the floor at the dismissal. He couldn't be surprised that his father didn't want to talk about it. Who would? But at the same time, he was disappointed that what they shared last night didn't leave to some greater discussion about the war, or Karura, or feelings, or anything. Anything except the implied order to go downstairs and have breakfast.

Still, he didn't have a choice, now did he? Kankuro crossed his arms behind his head and sighed, walking out. Instead of heading straight to breakfast he did a few things he didn't get the chance to do last night, like brush his teeth, brush his hair, and check on his cat.

After he got done in the bathroom, he ducked his head into his room to check there first. The gray tabby was curled up asleep on the foot of his bed. Kankuro grinned and slipped into his room, sneaking up on her. He brushed his hand over the long, soft fur of her side. "Hey, Poko. Did you miss me?"

His cat yawned and opened one eye at him, as if to say, 'No. Why did you wake me up?'

Kankuro chuckled. "Of course not." He got dressed for work and put on his face paint, using the brush blind. He knew what he was doing; he didn't need a mirror to check.

By the time he was done getting ready, he glanced over his shoulder and saw that Poko was asleep again.

Kankuro went downstairs, grinning, his mood greatly improved by visiting his cat. When he got to the dining room, Gaara was sitting in his chair, looking sulky and sleep-deprived, as usual. Temari didn't look too much awake herself, although she was munching on a piece of toast. Kankuro carefully avoided looking cheerful. No one in the house was a morning person, including him. Nothing pissed off a person awake in the morning against their will like a cheerful face.

Their father showed up after he sat down, dressed as usual in a high-collared martial arts jacket that went down to mid-calf like a trench coat, the sides slit up to his hips for range of movement.

Whenever he went to the office, he wore one of these jackets over his more casual clothes. It signaled to everyone that he was in Kazekage mode. Then, when he finally came home, he'd take the jacket off and become just a regular jonin again.

Yondaime sat down and nodded to each of his children in turn. A serving maid came in to serve both Kankuro and Yondaime their breakfast. Yondaime waited for her to retreat before saying mildly, "Good morning, my children."

Gaara sifted a hand through his hair and glared at their father.

"Morning, Dad," Temari said sleepily. She fumbled with her chopsticks and then started in on her rice and omelet.

Kankuro nodded in return. "Good morning. How did you sleep, Dad?"

"Well," Yondaime said. He gave Kankuro a small smile. "Very well, thank you."

Kankuro felt gratified, more than he knew he should. But at least I got a thank you. He smiled at his father in return. It didn't take a genius to know their father wouldn't mention what happened in front of Temari and Gaara. Underneath the guise of thanking Kankuro for asking the question, their father was clearly thanking him for staying last night. Because I helped him sleep.

The smile on his lips grew, and Kankuro hastily averted his gaze to his bowl of rice, picking at it with his chopsticks.

"Gaara, would you like some medical jutsu to ease your headache?" Yondaime asked. "I know it must be painful."

Gaara clenched his jaw and sighed through his teeth. "You know nothing of pain. If you did, you would know that this is not 'painful'. This is the ever-present effect of sharing a body with Shukaku. Therefore, this feeling, as unpleasant as it may be, is part of me."

Kankuro couldn't count how many times he had heard this argument. In the beginning, he'd gone, 'What? Just take the damned medicine!' That hadn't gotten him anywhere, so now he was silent. That didn't get him anywhere either, but silent prayers for Gaara to feel better were less easily discouraged.

"Then I would like to ease the unpleasantness," Yondaime said.

"Don't," Gaara said.

Yondaime and Gaara engaged in a staring match.

Temari sighed. "Quit it. It's too early for this."

Shukaku was weakest in the morning, so no one was particularly afraid of Gaara's control slipping. Through long years, they'd all learned that Shukaku's power waxed and waned in relation to the time of day. At midnight, the demon's power peaked. Then it crested downhill, reaching an all-time low at eight o'clock, and slowly built up over the day. At nightfall, Shukaku's power spiked. This effect was magnified by the full moon.

Gaara grunted and went back to eating breakfast. "Don't bother me."

Kankuro experienced one of those moments where he wanted to strangle his brother for talking that way to their father.

Yondaime, as usual, let it go and silently started eating breakfast.

xXx

After work, Kankuro bounded onto the domed roof of his father's office and descended in a controlled slide to the office balcony. He gave a friendly nod to his father's two bodyguards. They hung out on the side of the building near the roof, their chakra controlled to allow them to hang around like geckoes. He received a wave in reply and let himself into his father's office through the glass door, emerging on the opposite side as the door into the office from inside the building.

His father was at the desk, surrounded by orderly stacks of paper and scrolls. He was bent over, writing something on a scroll.

Kankuro waited. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched his father write. His father's narrow, delicate features were partially illuminated by the desk lamp and partially cast into shadow. Kankuro considered the dramatic effect and thought he might ask his father to pose here while he painted that portrait he wanted to do.

His father glanced up at him, spoiling the illusion of a living portrait existing only in his silent world behind a frame. "Hello."

"It's five minutes past five," Kankuro said. "Just letting you know. I'm going to try to get you out of here as early as possible."

"And I'm going to try to stay," Yondaime said with a nod. He re-read what he'd written for a moment, eyes scanning the scroll. Then he glanced up again. "How was your mission?"

"Roof cleaning," Kankuro said. "Temari's wind jutsu was helpful, but she almost gave me sand burn a couple times. After Gaara collected the sand we knocked off overhead, he sent it back to the desert outside the north gate."

Yondaime nodded. "Good enough. Thank you. I know village maintenance cannot be an exciting mission for you all, but it is important."

"I know that," Kankuro said casually.

His father wrote for a moment more, but then he shook his head. Kankuro watched him massage the bridge of his nose, close his eyes, and frown. "I am sorry…for last night." He laid his pen down.

"I'm not," Kankuro said, hoping that blunt response would cut short whatever his father was going to say next. Don't guilt trip yourself, please…

"I know that what happened was terribly abusive towards you," Yondaime said. "A father should never place that kind of a burden on a child. I'm sorry, and I will make sure that it never happens again. I could not keep using you that way. It is unconscionable." He bowed his head.

Kankuro didn't know what to say.

After a moment, Yondaime sighed and started slowly writing again.

Oh, no. This cannot be the end of the conversation. Kankuro frowned. "Stop over-thinking it. I'm fine. And I don't think it was abusive at all. You needed me. Who else is going to be there?"

Yondaime carefully put down his pen, watching the ink drying on the scroll for a moment, and then rose. He crossed the room and gently laid his hands on Kankuro's shoulders. "That kind of thinking is exactly what I cannot encourage in you. You are naturally selfless, and would give up much for me." He sighed. "As for me, I think I must be naturally selfish, to place such a burden on my loved ones time and time again."

Kankuro tilted his head, staring at his father in confusion. Time and time again? What is he talking about? This is the first time. "But…but it's never happened before. I would remember if it –" He broke off at his father's head shake.

Yondaime said quietly, "During times of trouble, I often drink too much, and say too much to those I love. I make them feel responsible for me, in ways they shouldn't be. My bodyguards – notice how they treat me? I have broken down in front of them too many times. Their job is to guard me, not to spend night and day worrying about my emotional well-being."

Kankuro shrugged, frowning. "I think your emotional well-being is important."

"It is, but I am the only person responsible for it," Yondaime said. "Not you, and not my bodyguards. When Yashamaru was alive, he was also a frequent victim of my mishaps. It is so easy for me to take one wrong step, to make one wrong decision and thus lose control – It is not something I like to repeat, but I seem not to be able to help myself when situations of great pressure arise. It is a failing, and not my intention to make anyone around me bear an unbearable emotional burden."

What about your unbearable emotion burden? Kankuro almost shouted in his father's face. If you could bear it, you wouldn't drink so much and then cry all over the person who happens to be with you! That's the definition of bearing something unbearable!

"I'm not bearing something unbearable," Kankuro growled instead, glaring at his father defiantly. "It's perfectly bearable."

His father looked taken aback, then patted his shoulders. "I am glad you think so. I must clearly stop before it is too late."

"If you need help, just ask for it," Kankuro said.

Yondaime smiled sadly. "I would if there were someone to ask."

You mean if Mom were here, Kankuro wanted to retort. You'd ask her. You'd ask her, but you won't ask us. You want her. "There are. There are lots of people. You could ask any of us or even all of us to help you." Kankuro took a deep breath. "All you have to do is ask. Do I mind what happened last night? Of course not. You're my Dad."

"Fathers shouldn't hurt their children," Yondaime said.

He thinks he hurt me? How? "How did you hurt me?" Kankuro demanded. "I'm not hurt!"

"You may not see it now, but this is inappropriate," Yondaime said. His father's voice was heavy. "You cannot be expected to take care of me. You cannot…" His voice softened, and he reached up hesitantly to cup Kankuro's chin. "You cannot take your mother's place. You are Kankuro, not Karura. You mustn't –" He shook his head earnestly. "You mustn't tread such treacherous ground. My son, you must be yourself."

Kankuro's brow furrowed, and he looked at his father with wide eyes. It was almost impossible for his father to talk about his mother. He's really serious. Then Kankuro's heart skipped a beat. Wait. What if he senses somehow what my feelings turned into last night?

His father was uncannily perceptive about people. That was why, ordinarily, it was impossible for the Council to gain an upper hand. The Council's combined willpower and wits was matched by Yondaime's in a perfect deadlock, one man against many.

Which was also why Kankuro held out home that somehow, his father could avert the war that was so desperately unwanted.

"I want you to be yourself," Yondaime whispered. He continued to cup Kankuro's chin. His thumb stroked Kankuro's cheek gently. "Kankuro. My eldest son."

Kankuro shivered. The touch sent a flood of tiny buzzing sensations across his skin, igniting warmth in his stomach. He knew his father's actions were meant to be innocently soothing. He couldn't help it; his body reacted to the yearned-for physical affection.

Yondaime snatched his hand back and looked at it wonderingly. "Oh. Are my hands cold? I'm sorry. You should have told me. I wouldn't have –"

Kankuro grabbed the front of his father's martial arts coat and pulled his father's mouth against his, kissing his father with more desperation than finesse. Understand me. Please, just try to understand instead of beating yourself up.

His father instinctively tried to pull away after the initial shock of being grabbed. He twisted in Kankuro's grasp, and his hands flew out to stop his son.

Kankuro used what he'd learned from the few times he and the girl from his first team had kissed, more as an experiment than anything sexual. They'd both been curious, and hadn't disliked each other. Nothing had come of it; just a few embarrassed observations back and forth and the understanding that at least they'd get a kiss from a future date that wouldn't suck.

Mouthing his father's lips felt entirely different. Kankuro could tell when he closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling of their lips meeting that he was into it. Oh, god, what is wrong with me? I'm into this, but I wasn't into that? She was a perfectly normal, nice girl.

His father stopped struggling.

Kankuro didn't know what that meant. At the same time, he hoped it meant that maybe it felt good for his father, too. His father's mouth hadn't gone all tight and unrelenting like his teammate's had the first time they tried to kiss. But maybe that just meant his father already knew how to kiss someone – and Kankuro hoped so, he thought anyone who'd been married and had children ought to know how to kiss people.

He pulled away finally, opening his hands and releasing his father's black martial arts jacket.

His father stumbled back and caught himself on his desk. He gripped the edge of the desk with both hands and looked at Kankuro with wide eyes.

Kankuro tried a weak smile. "I love you." His father's taste was still on his lips; faintly sweet.

His father visibly took that in. He seemed to remember how to breathe. His father glanced away, breathing heavily, and touched his lips with gentle fingertips. Feeling the spot where Kankuro's lips had been.

Kankuro didn't know if that was good or bad. His stomach clenched.

Yondaime looked at him with a furrowed brow, looking more confused than anything else. "I love you, too. Why…?"

Kankuro grinned sheepishly. "Uh…heh." He prepared himself for a yelling fit. "Because I love you?"

This wasn't how he'd meant the day to go. At all. He'd wanted to restore everything back to normal between them, not have an awkward conversation about how he was trying to fill his mom's shoes and then kiss his father senseless.

Instead of anger, Yondaime's eyes shone, growing darker with the threat of tears locked behind his control. "Oh, Kankuro…"

Kankuro rubbed the back of his head and looked away. He didn't know how to respond to that. That wasn't exactly a question or anything. It was just his father saying his name like it ought to have some extra meaning in this case. He didn't think his father sounded disappointed. Just…

Yondaime crossed the space between them with long-legged strides and hugged Kankuro tightly, sheltering his son against his chest. "I don't know how this happened. But…"

Neither do I. Kankuro wouldn't say that, for fear it would tip over some kind of delicate balance.

"We need to talk," Yondaime said.

"Yeah," Kankuro agreed. "I guess we do." He glanced at his father warily. Still not angry. Huh. Maybe this won't be one of Those Talks.

"Someplace private," his father said softly. "At home."

Kankuro put on a cheeky grin. "Does this mean you're done with work, then? I ought to kiss you every day."

Yondaime gave him a look and sighed, turning to survey his desk as though he'd never seen it before. "Yes, I would say this definitely means I am done with work."

That was interesting. His father's response to his joking meant that he wasn't in trouble, either. Kankuro wondered what his father did have to say if it wasn't, 'What is wrong with you?' or 'You are so grounded.' Not that his father should be grounding a fourteen-year-old adult genin with responsibilities to the village. But still. His father had the power to do so. As Kazekage, his father could suspend him from duty.

Kankuro ventured, "Does this mean, ah, that you don't think I just screwed up my life forever? 'Cause you're not mad at me."

Yondaime turned and looked at him with a horrified expression. "Of course not. Of course you haven't ruined your life. Not in any way, and certainly not 'forever'. We just need to talk. We need to talk about you. And…" He looked at his hands, spreading his fingers and studying them with a kind of detached dismay. "And me, it seems. I must also talk about myself."

Kankuro knew his father loathed personal discussions. That was why it had taken getting drunk to get anything out of his father at all. He winced. "Yeah…May I make a suggestion?"

"A suggestion?" His father raised an eyebrow.

Kankuro chewed his lip. "You might want to have a glass of that plum wine first, before we start this discussion."

His father stared at him, mouth falling open. Then his father let out a laugh. "You certainly may not suggest that I get drunk in order to administer proper discipline and advice on this subject!" But he seemed more amused than anything else. He walked towards the door, shaking his head.

At Kankuro's immobility, he looked over his shoulder and gave his son a look. "Are you coming, or not?"

Kankuro closed his mouth and nodded, walking to his father's side. He was trying to get over the sound of his father's surprised laugh. For a moment, his father had become the most beautiful person on earth. If this is what my dad used to be like, then no wonder Mom fell in love with him. That was like, the sexiest laugh ever.