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Tenzo still has the courtesy to knock on someone’s bedroom door, unlike some people, despite having a key to the apartment and the door already being partway open in the first place. It’s after 8pm and he’s actually a bit surprised when Gai, normally the type to knock out early unless on a mission, grants him entry. He’s propped up in bed reading a book on herbal medicine, a sight dressed only in a pair of floral shorts he once explained Kakashi had given him for his birthday last year. Tenzo still isn’t used to seeing him without the green suit.
“Oh, Tenzo!” Gai rests the book on his lap to greet him with a wide grin, patting the space in bed next to him. “How was your day?”
Tenzo simply sighs and shuffles toward the bed, tossing his forehead protector into the chair by the door before faceplanting directly into the firm muscle of Gai’s chest. It’s been a while since he’s been this worn out when not returning from a mission, years since he’s had to expend as much chakra the way he does to keep the kyuubi restrained.
A deep chuckle rumbles against Tenzo’s cheek. “It can’t have been that bad! Not with such an incredible team as you and Kakashi working together!”
“Kakashi-senpai teaches, I restrain. Mostly.” He sighs again into Gai’s side. “Naruto has too much energy, I don’t know how he keeps up.”
“Kakashi has quite a bit of experience with that sort of youthful determination!”
He can hear the pride in Gai’s words and it reminds him that Kakashi has had a lifetime of experience with Maito Gai. Tenzo only grunts quietly in response. He pulls himself the rest of the way onto the bed and nuzzles into Gai, faint dirt smell of herbs and sweat comforting him.
Comforting is one of the best adjectives Tenzo can come up with for Gai. Solid and dependable are others. Gai’s hand in his hair now feels like assurance, no concern about the fact that Tenzo is still sweaty from a day on the training field. He’s gone back to reading quietly, a rare sight in all honesty, his fingers gently massaging Tenzo’s scalp.
They don’t seem to spend much time together without Kakashi, but when they do things are decidedly different. Tenzo doesn’t tend to think this way often, doesn’t like to let himself be this cliché, but with the three of them it’s as if Kakashi is the clouds in the sky and Gai is the solid ground, and Tenzo is a single tree straining to reach between the two.
When it’s just the two of them, though, to Tenzo Gai is a rock, strong and unmoving; Tenzo has grown roots into and around him, Gai welcoming him entirely. Tenzo still reaches to the sky, branches extending as high as he can manage, but he concerns himself less with whether the clouds will choose to meet him, weathers the rain and the erosion much better than he might otherwise.
Tenzo closes his eyes and drapes an arm across Gai’s middle; he recalls the morning after the two of them first invited him to join them. Gai had already been out of bed and likely well into his morning workout, Tenzo curled up in Gai’s bed, Kakashi’s face pressed into the crook of his neck. He wouldn’t have figured Kakashi for a cuddler. He’d shifted a bit in an effort to get up but felt the sudden warmth of Kakashi sighing against his neck and wondered how long Kakashi had been awake.
“You know,” Kakashi had mumbled, lips brushing gently against Tenzo’s skin, “Gai’s the only person who’s stuck with me for very long.”
“Mm,” he gives up on leaving and stretches his free side across the bed. “You were the only one who ever stuck with me for long.” There’s a good minute in which Tenzo’s eyes are open again, half-obscured by silver hair, tracing the thin line of a crack in the ceiling. “It doesn’t have to keep being that way.”