| fallen_tsume ( @ 2008-03-02 01:26:00 |
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| Entry tags: | raidou, tsume |
Different Kind of Dance [closed to Tsume and Raidou] [NC-17]
Set six years previous, a year before the Kyuubi attack. WARNING: very dark material. Discretion advised.
She wasn't sure how long she'd been drinking. Not long enough, that much was sure. She could still stand, for one thing. Still see, for another. In fact, as senses went, she was disturbingly non-impaired.
"Tsume, come home." Yasuo pulled at her sleeve, his slit-pupiled eyes--so prized among the Inuzuka as marking them for purity--creased with worry. "Your mother needs you."
She rounded on him, looking up into his face. "Don't begin with that," she snarled, lips lifting off of her teeth. Her mother needed no one anymore; no one except a dead familiar they couldn't bring back. "My sister's there." In case anything did go wrong. In case her mother spoke one more word, just one.
She wouldn't. But hope was harder to kill than ninja.
"The clan needs you to be clear headed in the morning," Yasuo began, his crimson tattoos bleeding out against his flushed face. His own lip pulled up off his teeth, baring fangs no larger than hers in a mouth that was bigger.
"The clan needs me to bully them into behavior. I can do that hungover or not. Leave me alone."
He reached for her again, anger making his eyes glitter. Tsume recoiled, snarling, taking two steps back and leaping for the table she knew was behind her. She'd been in ANBU for two years, and had only recently quit; a few drinks and a table weren't going to foul her up. She crouched on the tabletop, thought better, hopped off on the other side to put it between them. A bar wasn't the place to start a fight. She might get thrown out.
That had happened enough the last few weeks.
As if waiting for his cue, the bartender called warningly, "Tsume..."
Her snarl changed to a smile, and she waved at him jauntily. "No problem here!"
"You're throwing your life away!" Yasuo growled, hands claws at his sides.
She smiled, knife-edged and full of warning. The clan wanted her to breed. She had good bloodlines, far more feral than most of the other Inuzuka, and they needed the children. This was their top pick; she suspected they hoped Yasuo's tendency for manners would blunt her canine-edge in any offspring, without dulling the clan abilities. "You're just upset," she growled, "because I'm not humping you."
His skin flushed, and she smelled anger and embarrassment over the sharp, sour scent of the beer on the table between them.
"But I have a date tonight," Tsume announced, knowing full well he'd smell the lie.
Yasuo's chin rose. "Who?" he demanded.
She glanced around, then pointed to a man sitting at a booth. "Him." She grinned, wolfish and pleased as bitches in sunshine to make Yasuo that much angrier. Maybe the alcohol was affecting her judgment just a little.
Maybe.
Yasuo turned to look at the man in the booth with both incredulousness--he knew it was a lie--and accusation. "That true?" he barked.