Chapter 15

After the glow wore off and it seemed they returned to the same planet as everyone else was living on, Kankuro and Yondaime got up and took a shower.

Unlike their little roleplay in bed, nothing sexually suggestive happened.

When they got out of the shower and dried off, they each meandered back to their own rooms to get dressed and then met back up in Yondaime's room. Kankuro noticed that his father had chosen a slate blue yukata with a pale silver bamboo pattern on it; an unusual choice. Usually, his father steered clear of patterns except for pinstripes. He'd only seen his father wear this particular yukata a couple times.

Kankuro smiled. "You look nice." He, himself, had opted for his baggy black t-shirt and black cargo shorts. Totally utilitarian and uninspiring. Like most of Kankuro's wardrobe, it was black and blah and got the job done: covering him up so he was presentable for the rest of the world.

His father had stood waiting for him in the middle of the room.

Kankuro stopped just inside the door with his hands in his pockets. "Yeah? You look like you wanna say something."

"Now that we are apparently into the part of our lives where we do these things…" His father cleared his throat. "I want you to see something, and understand…it's available, and, um…" He shifted and looked uncomfortable. "It's natural. It's a normal part of lovemaking."

Kankuro was embarrassed and curious. "Dad?"

"Look in the drawer, please," his father said. He pointed. "The top drawer of my nightstand."

Oh. Kankuro already knew what was in there, but he didn't tell his father that. That might embarrass his father even more than bringing up this topic had. He's just trying to make sure we have safe sex.

He walked across the room to the nightstand and obediently opened the top drawer. He looked down into it. Kankuro took a deep breath and tried to play it casual. He was surprised to see all of the makeup products still there. But he obediently took his gaze to the pink bottle of lubrication. "Oh, yeah. Massage oil and lubrication."

Kankuro glanced at his father.

His father blushed. "I don't use it for the second one. Not specifically. I like the strawberry smell, and my muscles in my neck get stiff and sore from sitting at the office all day…so I use it for that."

Kankuro was amused that his father was trying to explain a lack of a sex life. "Yeah…" He grinned. "I'm sure I wouldn't have jumped to any conclusions." Actually, he had, but only for a split second.

"And there should be condoms," his father said evenly, noticeably swallowing his discomfort.

"Condoms? Why?" Kankuro raised his eyebrows. He couldn't help himself. "They're not left over from when Mom was alive, are they? Even if they're still in the package, that's kind of gross."

"No!" his father protested, blushing madly.

Kankuro had to laugh. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry." He cleared his throat and swallowed his grin. "What are they there for, then?"

Yondaime looked away. He stared at the wall studiously. "For you. For when you became…a sexually active mature adult. I read…somewhere…that a father should always be prepared."

Kankuro stared at him. "To give me sexual protection so I don't do my date bare? That's kind of messed up. Who wrote a thing like that?" He couldn't help the crassness. He was creeped out by the idea of fathers checking in on their sons and throwing condoms at them.

Yondaime shifted and folded his arms across his chest. He bowed his head and mumbled, "I don't know."

Kankuro immediately felt guilty. He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around his father, pulling his father tight against him. "Hey…It's okay. I know you're trying to do what's best for me." He kissed his father's cheek. "But condoms are for girls, right?"

"Actually…" His father cleared his throat and admitted, "I don't know. I think it has more to do with creating a barrier so that experienced people don't…ah…"

"Don't pass on their yuck to new people if they've got something contagious?" Kankuro asked.

Yondaime nodded, looking horrified and relieved at the same time.

"You got anything?" Kankuro asked.

His father shook his head.

Kankuro squeezed him. "Then we don't need condoms, do we?"

Yondaime looked at his son with sudden understanding. "You're scared."

Kankuro's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't stopped to consider how he was reacting. "Well, yeah." He thought about that. "I'm scared…It sounds weird. I don't want to put a bag on my penis."

Yondaime snorted. "Well…" A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "I hear not a lot of men like it."

"So why do we do it?" Kankuro asked.

"Consideration," Yondaime said simply.

Kankuro thought about that. "Okay." He hesitated. "Does it feel weird…inside?" He hated asking that question, but he was already starting to wonder.

"Lubrication." His father cupped his cheek gently. "You never use a condom without lubrication. The two products are meant to work in conjunction." He kissed Kankuro's lips, then Kankuro's forehead. "It's alright. It's really not scary once you get used to it."

Kankuro hugged his father, grateful. A wave of relief and reassurance washed through him at the renewed realization that his father would take care of him and keep him safe. Safe from external things, sure, but also safe from anxiety. And that had always been Kankuro's bigger problem. He was grateful, simply put, to be doing this with his father. He knew that any older man could achieve the same knowledge and wisdom, but he didn't trust just anybody. He trusted his father, and he trusted his father's ability to see him through things.

His father hugged him in return, and then squeezed his shoulder. "Okay. You can close the drawer."

Kankuro nodded. He padded back over to the nightstand...and was faced with the makeup products again. He hesitated with his hand on the handle of the drawer. Kankuro bit his lip. Then he turned around, gathering up his courage. "Dad…you know, it's none of my business, but…you're not going to keep Temari's makeup forever, are you? That seems kind of mean."

Yondaime almost fell over. "Mean?"

"Well, yeah," Kankuro said. "I know she doesn't wear makeup all the time, but when she does, she wants to have the right shade, you know? If you keep confiscating stuff, all that means is that she's going to have to keep buying replacements. I know it's a learning curve and all not to keep scattering her stuff all over the house, but…" He shifted uneasily. "I don't claim to know a whole lot, but I notice that stuff is expensive."

His father calmed down during his rambling explanation and smiled. "It's alright. You can tell me your opinion about anything. I'm not going to mind…just as long as you know it's still my decision."

Kankuro nodded. "Of course." He chewed his lip. "So are you going to give it back?"

"The makeup in the top drawer of my nightstand is mine," Yondaime said. "Not Temari's."

"Say what?" Kankuro smiled, confused and knocked off balance. He felt somehow there was a joke in this.

"At first, it was just to hide the tired circles under my eyes from the Council," Yondaime said. "Those old men are far too nosy for their own good. They would have used my appearance of exhaustion as leverage of some kind, I am sure. So I did it."

That made more sense.

"I wondered why you looked so much better than you should," Kankuro said. "You did a really good job; I couldn't even tell, and I know about makeup as part of theatre."

Of course, kabuki paint and modern makeup were polar opposites. Modern makeup was all about understatement, and traditional kabuki paint was all about overstatement, making a message as loud and clear as possible. Kabuki was the art of stylized grandiosity, all larger-than-life characters and eloquent speeches, dramatic battles and ritualized shows of emotion.

Knowing about kabuki did not help Kankuro pick out when his father was wearing makeup to hide signs of tiredness.

His father's wording belatedly sank in. "At first?" Kankuro asked.

His father looked guilty. "It turned into something else, I'm afraid."

"Is…there something you're trying to tell me?" Kankuro raised an eyebrow. What, does he cross-dress or something? He'd heard of guys who dressed in women's clothing and put on women's makeup, outside of a theatre production. There were even a couple bars where Kankuro had heard guys like that hung out. But he seriously doubted his father was trying to confess to having a double life.

"Last year, when I wanted to give Temari makeup for her birthday…" Yondaime hesitated and shifted. "I did not return the excess makeup to the store. I did not because…I kept it for myself. I did this because…I tried it on myself, and…I liked it." He swallowed. "I tried it on because…I have always wanted to know what it was like. But even while your mother was alive, Kankuro, I never…experimented that way."

He looked at Kankuro as though he expected Kankuro to physically attack him.

Kankuro smiled at him wryly. "Enemy ninjas who know nothing about our culture accuse me of wearing makeup all the time. It doesn't bother me. Even if it were true, I wouldn't care. It's my choice." He hoped that answer would calm his father down. "It's your choice to conduct yourself how you want. You should be able to wear makeup, just like I should be able to wear face paint without being called a fag all the time or discriminated against. I mean, even if I were, is that anyone's business? I don't do it with them."

"I appreciate that," his father said softly. Still, he looked sad. "I wish…I wish there was a world where we could all conduct ourselves freely, without discrimination."

Kankuro shut the drawer and came back to his father's side, holding his father gently. "Someday, there will be. Probably. I mean, we're making advancements all the time. You remember what Yuna-san said. My generation is allowed to show emotion, while yours wasn't. That's progress, isn't it, Tousan?" He looked at his father with a small smile, trying to be encouraging.

"Yes, I suppose you're right." His father nodded. Kankuro thought most of his father's calmness probably came from renewed physical contact, though.

"So, how come?" Kankuro prompted.

"What?" His father looked surprised.

"How come you wear it?" Kankuro asked. "You said it turned into something else. An experiment. An experiment in what?"

Yondaime bit his lip. He guided them back over to the bed and sat down on the edge, bringing Kankuro down beside him. He wrapped an arm around Kankuro's shoulders. "Sometimes," he said quietly, "I think about what if would have been like if I had been born female."

Kankuro couldn't take that in for a moment. He looked at his father with a sympathetic, blank expression. I can't imagine…you as female. You're a man. You're my dad. But he didn't say any of that. That would likely only hurt his father's feelings. Even though it was the truth, it sounded like rejection. And it wasn't. Kankuro simply couldn't grasp the concept. I guess…in theatre…he thought slowly.

In theatre, ancient laws had forbidden women from participating, after too many feudal warriors carried them off as wives after a good performance…or simply had sex with them. That had stopped the clandestine marriages and elopements. That hadn't stopped the sex. Kankuro always thought that was a funny end to the story. Goes to show people are less discerning about that than you'd think. A pretty girl is a pretty girl…even if she's a man.

He then realized that his brain had given him the answer. Kankuro smiled at his father. "I understand. Masculine and feminine are constructs. So you want to be feminine sometimes. That's no big deal."

His father looked astounded. Then he said wryly, "You are one of the only people who would ever think so. To most people, it is not… 'no big deal'."

"But they're pricks," Kankuro said reasonably. "I'm your son. And I love you. So anything you like to do is okay."

His father looked at him in disbelief, wide-eyed and blushing.

"You don't get a lot of validation, do you," Kankuro concluded.

"Well…" His father picked at his yukata self-consciously and looked away. "Karura used to do a lot of that. 'You're alright the way you are', and a lot of things like that. She'd say to me, 'The way you were made, or the way you turned out, is okay with me'." He was smiling softly by the end of that statement.

Kankuro squeezed his father's hand. "Well, it's okay with me, too." He kissed his father's cheek.

"I'm glad," Yondaime said softly, squeezing Kankuro's hand in return. "I would hate to lose you because of how I am. I don't want to…make you uncomfortable or scare you away."

Kankuro linked their arms. "Well, that is not going to happen. I'm here to stay." He leaned against his father's side.

His father leaned against him in return and rubbed his back.

Temari and Gaara came back from their practice worn out and dusty. Baki reported briefly that Temari and Gaara had done well with chakra control exercises, showing improvement throughout the day. Then he teleported out, going home, and Temari and Gaara dragged themselves to their bathrooms to wash up.

Afterwards, everyone met in the dining room for dinner.

"You're looking better, Dad," Temari commented.

Their father smiled. "Thank you, Temari. I feel better."

Kankuro bit his lip to choke down a snort. Temari would flip if she ever found out why their dad was feeling better. A little sex goes a long way. He knew they hadn't technically had sex, but they'd gotten a lot closer than Kankuro had ever been. It had been totally mind-blowing. He knew he was going to think about it for a long time to come. Me and my dad…got each other off today. His head spun.

It was almost a relief when things had to return back to normal. Kankuro went to his room to get some sketching time to himself. His father retreated for journal time. Temari messed with her koto – not that she could coax more than a simple song out of it – and Gaara went to meditate on the roof. They all had their specific alone times and coping mechanisms. In a way, Kankuro supposed it proved they were all healthier than people gave them credit for. Now that Dad's joining in, I know that's true.

He lay on his floor on his stomach, sketching a human-type puppet. Maybe smoke expellers on the hands… Kankuro drew a circle on each palm of his model design. He worked on the puppet until he dragged himself into bed and fell asleep. Someday, he thought sleepily, I'm gonna be a great puppet designer like Sasori. And everybody's gonna want one of my puppets. I'll be famous.

Then he dropped off, happy and satisfied. It had been a wonderful day off.