Title: Tonight, We DrinkFandom: NarutoCharacters:
Shizune doesn't drink, as a general rule.A/N:
Another fic from Naruto
Yuri Week. Unlike the first two I wrote for that week, this one is right about how long (or short) I expected it to be. That was actually what satisfied me most about it when I wrote it, haha. I do quite like it on its other merits, though, and I hope you do too.
Shizune doesn’t drink, as a general rule. Tsunade-sama drinks enough for both of them and a few more besides, so it falls on Shizune to keep one clear head between them. Besides, seeing Tsunade-sama act a fool in her drunkenness is all the encouragement to abstain that Shizune could ever need.
Tonight, though. Tonight, as she supported Tsunade-sama back to her room, there’d been more weight across her shoulders than usual. No more than she could handle, but more than she’s used to. There’d been more contact, Tsunade-sama pressing up against her side, resting her head against Shizune’s shoulder and breathing over her neck and down the collar of her shirt.
When they made it back to their room and Shizune had helped to ready Tsunade-sama for bed, hands had begun to wander. Shizune had ignored it at first– the touch was more curious than anything, almost as if Tsunade-sama had forgotten who Shizune was and had set herself to investigate. It was impossible to ignore when Shizune tried to actually ease Tsunade-sama into her bed and Tsunade-sama had tried to ease Shizune in with her.
“Tsunade-sama,” she said, and then her breath caught, she froze, because Tsunade-sama was so close. She inhaled sharply, and the stench of alcohol breathed ragged against her face shocked her into action. She straightened with a jolt, leaving Tsunade-sama to flop back against her pillows.
Fear bloomed in Shizune’s gut– would Tsunade-sama be angry, be disappointed, be hurt by her rejection?
But Tsunade-sama just stared up at her as if through a fog, face flush and slack with drink, one eyebrow quirked. Perhaps she cocked her head in question, or perhaps that was just how the drink laid her out. She asked, almost clearly, “No?”
The answer should have been simple. It was
simple, yet Shizune could not speak it. Instead she took a steadying breath, still sour with Tsunade-sama’s indulgence, and said, “Goodnight, Tsunade-sama.”
And Tsunade-sama made an odd little drunken noise– sort of a hum, sort of a snort, sort of a non-committal grunt– and rolled over onto her side. Within a minute, she was snoring.
Shizune stood and watched her for longer than she could justify. She swore she could still smell Tsunade-sama’s breath against her face, and her tongue darted out to seek the flavor on her lips before she could stop it. Her face burned with shame and she turned stiffly to attend her own bedtime preparations.
That was when she saw the bottle of sake that Tsunade-sama had bought and brought back with her to their room in case she got thirsty on the walk there, or before bed, or in the morning. It was in her hand almost before she could think to pick it up. She thought of putting it away, as she should, or even of throwing it away, as she more likely should. She thought of Tsunade-sama pressed against her, pawing her; she thought of Tsunade-sama leaning close for a kiss and the smell of sake, this sake, on her breath.
Shizune doesn’t drink, as a general rule. Tonight, she drains the bottle dry.