Sakumo smothered a laugh at the dark grumblings barely audible from beneath the heavy winter kakebuton. Apparently he didn’t smother it well enough; the mutterings faded into an angry hiss - though it was rather lacking in ferocity - even as the slender figure curled tighter. Orochimaru’s angular cheek settled on Sakumo’s chest, faintly cool fingers splaying over his belly. Snuggling for warmth, though he would, no doubt, never openly admit to doing such a thing.
Sakumo wondered, if Orochimaru was still with him in the spring . . . would he curl up in the sun to bask, like one of his own summons?