This story was inspired by Keith Urban’s Raining on Sunday and Darkprism’s “Monoshizukanohi at Night” which is part of her Rhythm & Bruise story in chapter 4. This idea spawned from those. The rest came from me.
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Sunday in Konoha. It was the one day that the shinobi who were home didn’t have to worry about getting called out unless it was a real emergency. There were no reports to turn in, no scrolls to pick up. No classes to teach, no stacks of books to haul around. The pre-genin were at home, most of their teachers spending the day in blissful silence.
It was the day for laundry and groceries. The day to catch up on the myriad of pesky tasks that never got done when they were out on missions, herding children or attempting to teach new academy graduates. It was the day for running, for getting the things done that never got done the rest of the week.
Except today. For the third day in a row, the sky drenched the Village Hidden in the Leaves. The grey skies and soggy ground had more than a few people wondering if they’d been transported to the Rain or Mist villages instead of their home Leaf without their knowledge.
But it wasn’t completely unwelcome. The rain was too hard, the ground too wet for groceries or training. The dark skies begged the village’s inhabitants to stay in, curl up and forget about those pesky details for a while. The chill in the air reminded the residents that there were other things to occupy a rainy Sunday than chores.
In a small one bedroom apartment, one of the academy’s senseis curled more tightly against his husband. There was a stack of tests on his desk to grade, a pile of laundry to sort and start, lessons to plan and a collection of dirty dishes to wash in the kitchen. But in a rare fit of laziness, he ignored all of them.
Instead, he buried his face in the light dusting of silver hair that sprinkled his husband’s chest and settled more firmly against a slim hip. Strong fingers threaded through the sensei’s long, loose brown hair and the other hand slid along tanned skin, tracing the light scars that dotted a thigh here and a hip there. Dark lips dropped teasing kisses along the fair skin, working their way up to meet pale ones as they got lost in each other again.
And the laundry sat and the tests remained forgotten as the rain sheeted over the glass above their heads.
Two blocks over a spiky-haired chuunin nuzzled his lover’s neck, trying to distract him from the dishes. The brown head fell back as his boyfriend’s lips made a trail over his skin, down over a shoulder and nibbled on that spot at the top of his shoulder blade. “They’ll be there later, baby. Come back to bed.”
“But…” The word trailed off, his argument already forgotten. Strong hands moved down over his body, stroking, teasing, tormenting, adding to the sensations from those damnable lips. He could be made to forget just about anything when this was done to him. Everything from the filing he was supposed to be doing to the paperwork that got ignored in favor of a dark supply closet.
The plate was dropped, he turned around and lips crashed together. “Forget the bed. Here and now,” the brunet demanded before fisting is hands into the ebony hair and dragging the other man to the floor with him. The crash of thunder drowned out the reply, but neither paid attention to it.
He smirked at his opponent over the shoji board as the wind howled around their apartment. “Are you going to move?”
“Patience is a virtue,” the lazy voice replied. He already knew what his move would be, along with the next fifty or so. He loved testing the patience of the man across from him, loved riling him up.
He loved seeing the heat and fire flare in otherwise cool lavender eyes. Because when it did, the subsequent war was damned near perfect. It was a battle of lips and tongues as they bit and nibbled on each other, a battle of hands as they tore at clothes. One set of fingers threaded through long black silky hair, another tore at a pineapple ponytail. Somewhere in there, the game would be completely forgotten, the shoji board tipped over in favor of something much better.
There was training to do, plans to be made, even - as distasteful as it was to the lazy man pinned by his lover - laundry and errands to be done. But somehow neither could muster the strength to care. The battle taking place on their living room floor was infinitely more interesting. Besides, the storm raging outside meant they had an excuse to save it all for later.
Red and black eyes glared at the grey skies. Another reason to be stuck inside - yet another prison. The walls of his home were making him crazy. It was bad enough he was restricted to the village, but to be stuck inside the house, as well…
The scowl faded as a set of hands moved up over his naked chest. “It’s not going to do any good to glare at it. It’ll go away when it wants to. Besides, aren’t there more pleasant things to do?”
This was answered by a snort. “I don’t know if I’d consider them ‘pleasant’,” he smirked over his shoulder at the big blue eyes.
A chuckle escaped through the lips currently fixed to pale skin. “What if I let you tie the knots this time?”
An interested sound escaped the raven-haired man. “Still not sure I’d call it pleasant. But it’s better than watching the rain fall.”
“I’m glad I’m worth at least that,” the blond snorted and backed up. “But then again, I could just leave…” The teasing glint turned to surprise when he saw his lover’s reaction.
The raven moved faster than his lover would have given him credit for. His back was against the wall, his hands were pinned above his head, and the other man’s leg was firmly pushed between his thighs. “You’re not going anywhere.” The soft, silky voice caused goosebumps to form on the blond’s skin.
The skies had darkened so that only the gleam of those blue eyes could be seen. As lightning slashed through the sky and the room was brightened briefly, the heat and naked want on the whiskered face was all the invitation the other man needed. His lips captured the other’s and thoughts of imprisonment and stormy skies faded, leaving only arousal and need in their place.
The senbon clacked against his teeth as he moved it from one side of his mouth to the other in contemplation. There were so many choices, he found himself facing a serious dilemma. As he picked up one of the boxes to look it over again, the window next to him rattled with the force of the thunder that crashed and he took it as a sign that it was the one he should go with.
He slid the tape out of its box and pushed it into the video player, tuning the television to the correct channel before turning toward the kitchen. He could smell that the popcorn was done and he grinned around the needle in his mouth in anticipation. They never got far into the movie, never ate much of the popcorn, no matter which tape was put into the player.
He leaned against the doorway and watched the brunet move, the muscles of his naked back shifting as he reached above him for glasses. He poured their drinks and, without looking, held the large bowl of popcorn out behind him. The blond snorted at the assumption, but took the bowl anyway. Drinks and snack in hand, they returned to the couch, setting the food on the coffee table.
But within a few minutes of the movie being turned on, the senbon was thrown toward the wall where it stuck fast and its wielder turned toward his lover. They’d learned long ago to take that precious day for themselves, and this one, rain and storm or not, was no exception. The chores got done other days, their missions took them away often enough.
When they had these days together, it was spent together. It was spent reminding each other of the things that were so good, the feel of each others bodies, the love that had grown slowly, unlike the storm raging outside their home.
As the last few articles of their clothing were tossed aside, the rain started to slow. It didn’t matter to them. Rain or shine, warm weather or cool, this was their day to remember why they fought, why they risked and why they lost. And what was worth coming home to.
As the sun started to filter through the blinds, he dragged his brush slowly over his canvas. He concentrated on putting the finishing touches on the shadows, the final details in her emerald eyes. He added the last of the smirk that graced her lips and sat back.
It would never be quite good enough. It would never quite capture the beauty and love, the want and the need. His inky eyes shifted from the painting in front of him to its subject, still stretched across their bed. His pale hand tossed the brush down. He should stop and wash them out, clean everything up but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He paused to admire the way the sun kissed the curve of a hip, the goose bumps that covered soft flesh. His clothes were gone in a flash, his body stretched out along his lover’s and his lips met pink ones. So what if the sun was out? So what if they could get their things done now?
There were better things to do.
The traitorous sun caught the chocolate eyes as they widened. The shout escaped his lips as he came, the call of his husband’s name loud in the now-quiet room as the storm faded to memory. He slumped forward, pale-skinned arms wrapping around him. The thought floated through his mind that he should get up and take care of things, but it drifted away as quickly as it formed, the warmth and love too strong a pull.
The kitchen floor was cold, his pillow hard. They needed to move, get somewhere warmer and more comfortable. He could see the light as it peeked around the blind, and a thought tried to worm its way through that they had things they should do. But he viciously quashed it, deciding it would be there tomorrow. Sun be damned, he was too happy where he was.
The shoji board was forgotten once more. The long black hair made for a warm blanket even if the bony body under him was uncomfortable to lie on. He was lazier than usual right then, though, his body and mind sated as it always was when he won a battle like that. The sun crept across the floor toward him, but he had even less interest in it than he normally did. Because for once, his laziness was shared.
A chuckle could be heard through the post-orgasmic haze. An inquisitive noise was made in response and a whiskered face burrowed into the pillow deeper. “Sun’s out,” the silky voice said, but there were no moves made to leave the warm cocoon of blankets and bodies. Instead, the dark-haired man nuzzled the blond’s neck and settled further around his lover’s back. Somehow, home didn’t feel so prison-like at that moment.
The movie continued to play in the background. It had been started a number of times on days like that, but as it had been every other time, it was ignored. The sun shone brighter, the clouds dispersing quickly, but as always, that mattered very little to the two on the couch. The brunet pulled the blanket off of the back and spread it over his lover where he was stretched out on top of the taller man’s body. Sated, sleepy, it was time for their nap. Later, they’d make dinner together, then spend the evening actually watching one of the movies. And earlier than they would any other day, they’d head to bed and remind each other again of what was really important.
As Sunday in Konoha came to a close and the sun sank behind the horizon, the residents started thinking about the week ahead. A few regretted spending the day under blankets or in front of movies. But most of them found themselves grateful for the lazy time. Because as the new week started, they took with them the memory of a day that would help them get through tedious paperwork, cranky children, annoying students and bloody, deadly missions.
And they would all hope for another rainy Sunday in the near future.