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Jiraiya could only remember smelling Orochimaru’s pheromones once.
They’d been young, very young, and Orochimaru had been slow at training that day, even once tripping over their own feet. Tsunade and Hiruzen sensei had been watching them with concern, but Jiraiya was taking the chance to get one over on the other. He needed it.
Orochimaru was constantly besting him in duels, in the contests Hiruzen set for them, on their missions and on the battle field. Even in spars they didn’t go easy on Jiraiya, slamming the larger child into the ground with ruthless efficiency, not a single motion wasted. They slipped out of grapples and away from the end of Jiraiya’s kunai easily, every day more resembling their snakelike summons. Orochimaru has beaten Jiraiya more times than either can count.
So when Orochimaru wasn’t performing their best, Jiraiya wasn’t above taking advantage of the situation. He knocked the feet out from under them, and leveled a kunai at his stunned teammate, sprawled in the dirt. Tsunade hurries to their side, even as they begin to right themselves. Their bony knees poke out from their kimono, and Jiraiya is suddenly all too aware of how small his teammate is. How delicate the bones in their wrists are. How close he was. Jiraiya stumbles back. They shrug Tsunade off as they right themselves, brushing dirt from their threadbare clothes, even though Jiraiya would do anything to have Tsunade fuss over him like that. He scowls as Orochimaru picks themselves up, waving away their friend’s concern.
Ungrateful, Jiraiya thinks, crossing his arms with a pout. Hiruzen joins Tsunade at Orochimaru’s side, clapping a hand on their shoulder.
“You alright today, Orochimaru? Usually Jiraiya wouldn’t be able to get the jump on you like that,” He chuckles, and now Jiraiya is offended.
“Hey! I can beat Orochimaru anyday of the week!” He protests,
“Yeah right,” Tsunade scoffs, brushing ineffectually at a grass stain smeared across the back of Orochimaru’s white garment. Jiraiya felt a pang of guilt. He’d never seen his teammate in anything else, and that stain would be hard to get out. Sheepishly, Jiraiya holds out his hand, two fingers extended in the unison sign. There is a pause, too long. When Jiraiya turns to look at his teammate, he meets hazy, snake slit yellow eyes. Orochimaru still looks unbalanced and unsteady under the hand of their teacher.
Jiraiya waved a hand in front of Orochimaru's face.
"Hey, Oro! I didn't hit you that hard!" The joke feels flat as Orochimaru frowns, shaking their head like they're trying to get water out of their ears. Tsunade looks into her friend's uncanny yellow eyes, frowning.
"What did you do to them, idiot!" She mutters under her breath, glaring at Jiraiya. He opens his mouth to protest, to insist he's not the cause of Orochimaru's weirdness, when Orochimaru takes a cautious step towards Jiraiya, then crumples to the ground, a puppet with their strings cut. All three of them stare at their prone form for a moment, completely shocked before coming to their senses and lunging for Orochimaru.
Jiraia makes it there first somehow, wrapping an arm around their shoulders and helping them to their feet. Orochimaru leans into Jiraiya hard, which surprises him. They're bony and light in Jiraiya's hold, and from here he can smell a mouthwatering fragrance lingering on them. Maybe its their laundry soap, or their shampoo, Jiraiya thinks, suddenly drowsy, following the scent unconciously. How had he never noticed? He'd have to ask what it was, notes of fig leaf and tea, camphor and moss and mandarins filling his nose and his mind.
Jiraiya didn't even notice his face was pressed into his teammate's neck until Hiruzen was hauling him backwards by a handful of his thick hair. He glared at his sensei, a growl escaping from his chest before he caught himself, blinking.
"That's enough of that, I think," The third Hokage said, chuckling. He extricated Orochimaru from Jiraiya's hold, and for some reason it made Jiraiya's skin crawl. Orochimaru gazed blearily up at their sensei, cocking their head. Two bright spots of color warmed their cheeks, and their eyes widened.
"I'm presenting," They said, quiet and matter of fact. Hiruzen nodded.
"Let's get you home, I'll send a medic to check on you," He chuckled.
"I'm getting medical ninja training, I could go by!" Tsunade offered, glancing worriedly at their teammate. Jiraiya bristled, unreasonably displeased with this solution. Thankfully, Hiruzen shook his head.
"I don't think so, Princess," He said good naturedly, "I'll send a beta medic to check on Orochimaru here. Why don't you two go home for the evening, eh?" Orochimaru cast a look at them over their shoulder, unreadable as ever, as the third Hokage helped them away.
As soon as they were alone, Tsunade turned on Jiraiya with a growl.
"Look what you did!"
"Me?! I didn't do anything!"
"You stuck your face in their neck!" Jiraiya blushed, scratching his nose. He had done that. It had been impossible for him to resist. He'd never smelled anything like that, even from the pretty omegas in the bathhouse. Tsunade glared at him, hands on her hips.
______
Since they'd presented, Orochimaru had become obsessed with perfecting their suppressants, much to Jiraiya's disappointment. Sometimes the formula was more effective than others, and Jiraiya could still smell a hint of moss and tea, or the faintest whiff of fig leaf. He'd lean in, mindlessly chasing the scent of them, and Orochimaru would let him for a moment, before they'd stiffen and remove themselves, the formula changing the next day.
Jiraiya was sure Hiruzen and Tsunade noticed it too, the off putting chemical scents, continually evolving. Looking back, he's sure that's where it all started, the long nights in the laboraties, the feverish desire to conquer their own biology. But still even years later, across the battlefield on the back of Manda, there is still some part of Jiraiya can only think about that knobby kneed child, their pheromones still lingering in the back of his throat. That memory has long since been corrupted.