Content warning: mentions of blood and body horror delusions

"I wouldn't use that doorbell if I were you," a voice comments behind Kiba, making him jump and stop his motion in his tracks.

He's picking up Kankurou from work for the first time today. He and the rest of the polycule have booked a table for Kankurou's birthday tonight as a surprise. He's not entirely sure Kankurou likes spontaneous plans of that kind, but he figured it was still nice to try, and it would just be an hour or two with good food.

Presumably, the building he stands in front of is Sasori's workshop, if he got the address correct and didn't get lost on the way. Now he's not all too sure.

A tall man is standing on the sidewalk next to him, all muscles and giant shoulders, holding a paper bag stained with grease in his hand.

"The guy working there is a real asshole who doesn't like getting bothered while working," he adds.

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

He laughs with a smile that bares his sharp shiny teeth.

"The name's Kisame. The asshole is my man. What are you doing here, kid?"

Oh, right. Kankurou mentioned him. The guy with the doughnuts. Kiba had not really pictured him to look like this.

"Same as you, I suppose. I'm Kankurou's boyfriend."

The word feels new and a little intimidating on his tongue. Like perhaps he's not fully allowed to say this yet. But the last of Kankurou's boxes have been transferred to the – their – apartment last week, and he's been waking up next to him every morning for almost two months, and, most importantly, Kankurou said he could, so here he is.

Kisame raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, you're the new guy! It's tough being into grumpy nerds, uh? Although I guess yours is of a milder flavour than mine. But be careful, they worsen with time."

For a second, Kiba considers defending himself – and Kankurou – from the accusation. Then he thinks about Shino briefly and concedes that he may have a type.

"It's been alright so far," he eventually answers, which makes Kisame smile again.

The man is a bit disturbing. Both at the same time intimidating and rough, and friendly and warm. Kiba doesn't know how to behave with him but has to assume he's a fine person to spend time with, or Kankurou wouldn't like him.

"No judgement," Kisame assures. "I wouldn't be there if I didn't like it. You want a doughnut?"

"Are we really not coming in?" Kiba asks rather than answer the offer, which doesn't change much because Kisame hands him one either way.

Well, it's free doughnuts.

"I was not joking about Sasori not liking to be interrupted. And neither of us wants to see him upset. Me because I have to spend the night with him, you because you don't want your boyfriend to go all guilt trip over not making sure the two of you met in the best circumstances possible, right?"

Probably.

"You think he's like that?"

Kisame giggles.

"Kankurou? Yeah. Did you see the text he sent when he was in the hospital? Like 'I'm so sorry I'm not at work, I am bleeding out in the ICU, but I will be back as soon as possible, I promise.'" He tsks and shakes his head. "Men like these need someone on their back so as to not kill themselves over their work. That's where we intervene."

He's not going to try and deny that one. If Kiba hadn't been nosy and overconcerned a couple of months ago, there's no saying where Kankurou would have been now. The thought still makes him shiver and he's not sure he will ever fully shake off the image of Kankurou unconscious at his feet, of his pale wax-like skin and of the blood soaking through his underwear.

Somehow, meeting Kisame makes him feel a little better about it. Maybe, had he not been around and had Kankurou gone to work again a few days later, this is a man who would have done something for him.

"I guess you're right. Damn, that doughnut's good!"

"Free doughnuts are always good. Want another one?"

Kankurou's phone buzzes on the table halfway through dinner.

"Sorry, it's my uncle," he says while getting up, "I'll be back in a minute."

From the corner of his field of view, he can see Kiba waving him goodbye and Hinata giving him a soft smile.

"Hello, Baki," he says upon picking up.

Respect would want him to use some honorific with that, probably, but the dynamic between them has always been a bit unclear. When Temari and he first moved into Baki's home, they had essentially never met before. He was only Rasa's half-sibling, they hadn't grown up together for the most part, and they weren't really an item of each other's lives (or possibly were even on bad terms, Kankurou has never asked and doesn't care to know, if he's being honest). He was their relative on paper, enough for child services to reach out to him when they found themselves with three orphans on their hands, but a stranger in practice.

He never asked the siblings to call him anything specific and, more generally, never required them to reciprocate or feel grateful for anything. He did what was needed because it was his responsibility and let them figure out however they wanted to interact or not with him along the way. It was precious at a time so confusing and when they were both much more wary and – sometimes rightfully – prone to feel threatened than they are now. And so, he became just Baki.

After they moved out, his position stayed about the same: he was there for them to call and ask for help should they want it, but never pushed for them to stay in touch more than doing what he saw as his role, which was at this point of their lives mostly just this: calling on birthdays and for New Year to wish them well and make sure they didn't need anything.

"Happy Birthday, Kankurou," Baki's voice says on the other end of the phone. "How are you doing?"

Kankurou's stomach knots a bit at the question. He should have called sooner, maybe. If he'd asked, he's certain Baki would have come and helped for anything or let him recover at his place for a while. And he would have done a fine job at it, surely. What held him back doesn't have anything to do with the man, and much more with the era of Kankurou's life he embodies. Being in pain and bleeding and delirious in front of the same person as he was a decade ago would have furthered his feelings of being stuck in a time loop where he inevitably fell broken on his knees over and over again, and sleeping in his teenage bedroom in the state he was in a few months ago sounds like its own version of hell.

Still, if anything had happened to him, he wouldn't have wanted Baki to feel like he didn't trust him or care about him enough to tell him anything at all before it got there.

"Thank you. I had a bit of an eventful year, but I'm alright now," he answers after a brief moment of silence.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

There is no good way to say "I almost died but didn't think of texting you", but he's gonna have to try.

"I had a UC flare-up in January. A bad one."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Is it better now?"

"Well, I don't have a colon anymore, so yeah."

"Oh."

All different that Baki is from the way Rasa was, and all that they grew up in different families, he still evidently shares a general struggle to discuss emotions as a lot of them do. He wants to be supportive, and he genuinely cares, but he doesn't have the scripts to deal with this. It's okay. Kankurou neither.

"I was hospitalised for a day before we decided it was getting too bad and surgery was the safest option."

He doesn't pause to detail more of what the surgery entails. Baki was in the room the day he was diagnosed and probably remembers more than him what was explained back then.

"And you're feeling okay now?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I really do. The first month of recovery was quite rough, but I'm pain and bleeding-free now and unless something majorly bad and unpredictable happens I should stay that way from now on. I'm not loving the bag, but it's freeing. I went back to work full-time a month and a half ago, and I've been playing with my band again for a few weeks. Life is mostly back to normal now."

"I'm glad, then. I suppose there's nothing I can do to give a hand at this stage of the process?"

Kankurou shakes his head.

"Not really, no. But thank you for offering. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"No, no, it's okay. You do your life, kid," Baki assures as he always does.

"It's not that I didn't trust you'd help," Kankurou still feels the need to state. "I was just overwhelmed and getting more people involved was too difficult."

"I understand. As long as you kept yourself safe and you had people with you, it's all good."

Kankurou smiles.

"I did. Speaking of which, I have another much more fun news!"

"Oh?"

"I have a boyfriend now."

"Oh!"

"Yeah. It's been a month or so. We live together."

"That's quick."

He's trying not to sound judgmental, and it's probably not exactly what it is, but he's still audibly disconcerted by the situation.

"I sort of moved in before we were dating, actually. It's complicated. My point is: you should come over sometime."

The offer is received with a few seconds of surprised silence on the other end, then:

"Yes. Yes, of course, I would be happy to."

"We'll have to find a moment where Temari's in town. She's still overworking herself as always. Gaara can come with Lee too, I told you about them, haven't I?"

"Yes, they'd just gotten together for New Year, I remember. Is it still going well?"

"It's going excellently. They're very cute and happy together."

"That's good to hear. I don't know if Gaara has any interest in spending time with me, but I will welcome the occasion if it arises."

Kankurou is not sure Gaara has ever really met Baki in his life. They had no contact the whole time he and Temari were living with him and Gaara with Yashamaru, and he wasn't at Rasa's funeral. Yashamaru had said he was too young and too unstable to do this. Kankurou is pretty sure it's more that their uncle didn't want to come. He's never carried their father in his heart is the least one could say.

By extension, he hasn't carried Temari or him either in a long time, and Kankurou has no intention of trying to mend that relationship. But Gaara's predicament with them and Baki is different. He's purposefully trying to reconnect and, it seems, finding great fulfilment in that.

"I'm sure he'd be happy to see you. I'll keep you updated."

"Good."

Kankurou glances at the restaurant window. Kiba, Hinata and Shino's plates are almost all empty, and a waitress is talking to them.

"I should get going, I'm out for dinner with Kiba – that's my boyfriend, I didn't say his name – and our roommates."

"Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt! You could have called me back later."

"I know, but I was happy to have you." It was long overdue. "I'll fill you up on Temari's schedule when I can get my hands on it, have a nice evening."

"You too, Kankurou."

Baki is a tall man. The kind that has even Kankurou tiptoe to get into his arms for a hug. The embrace is short and restrained, but it still brings him undeniable comfort. He hasn't let Baki hug him many times in his life, but he has to say that his uncle found the right balance of distance and closeness on every one of those occasions, which is a feat impressive enough to be noted.

At his father's service, he'd just placed a large hand on his back and rubbed his shoulder blades. Kankurou hadn't cried. He had stopped crying for a while by then already. He had sat there, on the wooden bench of the funeral home, while a few people walked to the front of the room to say a few words, while music played in between them, and while the whole room melted brick by brick, burning his skin in a never-ending scream. And Baki's hand hadn't left his back.

He saw him hug Temari for the first time later. He was in the hospital after his first flare-up. Everything was bleeding and scraped raw. His body. His words. The walls of the room. He'd passed out from the pain and fatigue and meds for a bit, and when he woke up, his uncle and sister were both sitting in some plastic chairs in front of his bed. It was nighttime and she'd fallen asleep against Baki's chest with his coat half-sprawled over her shoulder. He'd just discreetly sighed with relief and said, "You scared me here, kid." Kankurou had been miles away from being able to formulate any kind of answer, and he never quite went back to how he was before his flesh was forced open by gloved fingers and white coats, but Temari had been there and feeling warm and safe enough to sleep against him and, for the first time, it had crossed Kankurou's mind that this may be someone to come back to.

"Welcome to my apartment," he says, stepping out of the entrance to let the man in and welcome Temari in turn.

Behind them, Gaara gets up from the couch, and Lee follows, placing a reassuring hand on his hip.

When Baki is done sharing a few words with their sister, he turns around to him.

"Gaara."

"Uncle Baki."

They stand in front of each other for an awkward second, Gaara probably very unsure of what is the right course of action in such a situation, and Baki not wanting to initiate something he wouldn't like, until Lee steps in to redirect the attention on himself and save his partner from it, as is one of his functions in this duo.

"My name is Rock Lee, I am Gaara's boyfriend. I am very happy to meet you," he says with a bow that Baki reciprocates.

"Me as well. Kankurou told me about you. All good things," he assures.

Lee chuckles.

"Ah, he is too nice! I have my flaws, like everybody, but I try to do my best."

He invites Baki further into the apartment then, as if it were his own, but nobody present is offended by his initiative. An overzealous extrovert who's good with in-laws is exactly what they need right now.

Kankurou picks back the introductions as they step into the living room.

"This is my boyfriend, Kiba."

Kiba bows with uncharacteristic deference.

"Good afternoon, sir."

It's pretty cute.

"And this is Shino, Kiba's other boyfriend, and Hinata, Shino's girlfriend."

This is all evidently a bit more information than a stern man in his forties can process all at once, even for the second time after Kankurou gave him a more in-depth rundown of the recent event on the phone earlier, but he politely nods to each of them.

This is about what Kankurou would have expected of him. He won't deny having had a little anxiety about the whole process, but, ultimately, he never believed his uncle would make an ill-intentioned comment about the matter or, truly, a comment at all. He isn't the siblings' father and has always made a point of not trying to be. It is not his place to express an opinion about their life choices, and he won't, despite probably having one. And, given that he's had decades to perfect the neutral façade that hides it, Kankurou has no idea what it may be.

"Please, take a seat, we prepared some snacks in the kitchen, Hinata and I will pick them up. We'll be right back."

"Are you happy with these people?" Baki asks at the door of the building once Kankurou has walked him back and they get a few minutes just the two of them.

"I am. It's been a bit of a rocky process. But I'm learning a lot."

If he'd been told six months prior he would even just live with someone else one day, he wouldn't have believed it.

He's always thought of himself as a loner, half by nature and half by fate. He could make do alone, did so happily, and could not fathom being able to share a living space with another person without their company eating him alive and dissolving the outlines of his body day after day. Living with his father had scorched him to the bones, and sharing a room with Temari at Baki's apartment for years had been in many ways comforting and a guarantee of safety he wouldn't have given up on for anything in the world, but had also led him to scar fused to her in a way that ripped every time they parted.

Now that he'd finally managed to get a place of his own and learn to stand without another body as a jailer or a crutch, digesting his own all the same, the idea of having to be close to someone like that again was unthinkable.

And yet.

With Kiba – and with Hinata and Shino too, they very much hold their part in this – he'd learned it's possible to exist next to someone, to rely on them even, while working on maintaining the limit of his own self as intact as they can humanly be. Learned to say both, "Can you help me?" and, "Please leave me alone." to the same person and trust that they will come back and leave every time again.

It's a work in progress, and probably will always be, but it has already done wonders to his mental health and his brain rot is acclimating to the people around him much better than he'd hoped it to.

"Then I'm happy for you, kid," Baki concludes.

"Thank you. You should come more often."

"I will come as often as you invite me," he assures. "You and your sibling's friend are lovely people, and I'm always more at peace knowing you are well."

The words are said with the same restraint his uncle always puts into them. They are a simple fact that does not require emotions to be noted. Still, it suddenly dawns on Kankurou that Baki has been calling him "kid" for 15 years, has raised him in his own home and has held his hand bleeding and delirious in a hospital bed with a frown on his face. Still, it suddenly dawns on Kankurou that Baki has never tried to make himself a father, but has opened to them every place he would have his own children. Still, it suddenly dawns on Kankurou that said own children do not exist, and they are the ones he calls for New Year and birthdays.

"I'll call you soon, then."