Rating: T (this chapter is T, but let's not kid ourselves, the story will probably be M)

Words: 3800

Pairings: None . . . yet

Warnings/Summary: Modern AU, Confident Tenzo, Dorky Kakashi, inappropriate humor, action story, guns and explosions, cliffhanger,

Author's Note: I didn't need a new story but this one just kind of happened. And when Tenzo is this adorable and Kakashi is this dorky, it's almost impossible to say no. Special thanks to Cinlat for making this story far better than it would have been without her input.

The humid, summer air clung to Kakashi's body as he dodged through the crowded streets of Konoha. Sweat trickled down his cheek, disappearing into the black mask that covered half of his face. Not for the first time, Kakashi thought about removing the flimsy piece of fabric so the breeze could cool his skin. Instead, he ducked into his apartment building and breathed a sigh of relief. Artificially cooled air brushed the fraction of exposed skin between his mask and the patch covering his left eye. At least the air conditioning is working today, he thought, combining through his silver hair with one hand.

It had been one of those days that made Kakashi miss the excitement and unpredictability of his old life. These days, he worked in a bookstore around the corner, not much in the way of excitement there. Except for the customers, of course. Thankfully, the store served a niche market, so there weren't that many people to deal with on a daily basis. A particularly annoying man had come in today, however. He'd wanted to argue the finer points of the Icha Icha series versus some mainstream travesty about an office love affair that had gotten out of hand.

Kakashi had read the book in question, of course, but the mere suggestion that it might even be close to on par with Icha Icha Violence was absurd. A loud, heated discussion had occurred, then the customer stormed out, swearing to talk to Kakashi's manager about his lack of people skills. Kakashi wouldn't get in trouble for it; he never did. For some reason, Jiraiya had been quick to offer Kakashi a job when he'd shown up in Konoha, and never bothered with any of the complaints about his odd behavior. Eventually, Kakashi would figure out why, but for now, he was thankful that his job to paid the rent.

Rather than dwelling on that thought, Kakashi turned to jog up the stairs to his apartment and nearly collided with his next-door neighbor. The brown-haired man caught Kakashi's shoulders to steady him, and his visible eye traveled up to meet Yamato's dark ones. The man displayed that half-smile that always graced his lips. He had moved into the building only a couple of months after Kakashi, and though the two weren't close, they had become friends over the past year.

Kakashi had clearly caught Yamato preparing to go for a run judging by the tight black shirt that conformed to his muscles and the matching shorts. Reflective silver stripes ran down the sides of the garment, contouring to his form even more. Tugging an earbud loose to dangle against his chest, Yamato smiled. "Wanna come?"

A frown slid over Kakashi's face, but since the man wouldn't be able to see it, he shook his head. "It's way too hot to go out there willingly," Kakashi complained. He had worked out with Yamato a few times, true, but that didn't mean he was going to submit to the torture of running in this heat.

"So you'll sweat. That's good for working out, you know?" Yamato teased.

"Maybe next time," Kakashi lied. Unless the next time happened to be mid-autumn or winter, when running to warm up was a good idea, he didn't plan to workout with Yamato. Kakashi was more or less in shape, but he didn't train as rigorously as his neighbor. Not anymore, anyway. "Have fun," he offered, continuing up the steps. Yamato chuckled, but didn't ask a second time.

Pausing outside his door, Kakashi dug in the pocket of his jeans and came up with a jumble of keychains laden with keys, most of which he almost certainly didn't need any longer. Finding the one that resembled a small pug wearing a blue vest, Kakashi extracted a key from the tangle and slid it into the lock. The small apartment he entered was neat but crowded with odds and ends that he'd picked up along the way. A long time ago, Kakashi had lived out of a bag, shunning anything that revealed his personal life. Now, memories were everywhere.

Kakashi dropped his keys into a bowl by the door, and glanced briefly at the framed photograph beside it. He was much younger than his current twenty-seven in the image, as were the boy and girl with him. Long fingers brushed the glass like a talisman, before he continued into the room. The book he'd been reading last night waited on the table next to his favorite chair, and a blanket had been thrown over the arm. Dropping his leather bag on the floor, the man headed toward the bathroom and a much needed shower.

As he walked, Kakashi began undoing the buttons of his shirt. It wasn't exactly a uniform, but Jiraiya wanted his employees to look professional, whatever that was supposed to mean. Tossing it and his undershirt into the hamper, Kakashi paused to catch a glance of himself in the mirror. Thin white scars crisscrossed his chest and stomach, relics of another life. He lifted the eyepatch from his left eye, laid it on the sink with his mask, then turned on the shower to heat the water before stepping in.

While Kakashi wasn't physically dirty, the water removed the sticky sweat from his walk home. He probably should have gone for a run with Yamato, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Burning off some steam might have helped his frustration, but he planned to lose himself in a book tonight and forget about the rest of his day. That was a far better way to unwind than doing the sprints and interval training that Yamato would have forced on him. Kakashi lingered in the shower longer than necessary, enjoying the cooler temperature in comparison to outside. When he finally shut the water off, he felt more relaxed than he had all day.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, Kakashi wandered to his room and pulled on his lounging clothes. The worn, grey t-shirt with a stylized leaf across the chest hung from his frame, and the navy pants fit him loosely as well. Scrubbing the towel through his silver hair, Kakashi carried it back to the bathroom and picked up his eye patch and mask. Once both were back in place, he made his way to the living room. Kakashi wasn't quite hungry enough to make dinner yet, so he sank into his chair. After tucking one foot beneath him, he picked up the book.

Barely five pages into the story, a knock interrupted his peaceful evening. Frowning, Kakashi marked his place with one finger and turned, hoping the noise had been his imagination. The knock came a second time, and Kakashi sighed, putting the book face down, before crossing the room. He cracked the door open to reveal a red-faced Yamato standing in the hallway. The man's dark hair clung to his forehead, dampened with sweat.

"Yo," Kakashi greeted casually, watching a bead of liquid work its way down Yamato's neck. Dragging his eyes back to the man's face, he waited for an explanation.

"You were right. It was way too hot to go for a run." Grinning, Yamato wiped at the sweat with a forearm, then frowned. "My stove is acting up again, and the landlord still won't have it looked at. I'm going to order something for dinner. Do you want to share?"

Kakashi narrowed his eye. "You realize that eating takeout negates your run, right?"

"At least I went for a run. You don't even have that going for you." Yamato chuckled. "Pizza or Chinese?"

"I didn't agree yet." Kakashi shook his head, running his eyes over the man. Yamato had tried to become friends with Kakashi since moving in, but the latter had held him at a distance. Kakashi liked him well enough. Yamato was friendly, funny, and not bad to look at, but he didn't need that kind of complication in his life. Never again, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, and Kakashi felt his heart clench at the thought.

Unaware of the spinning thoughts, Yamato offered a cheeky smile. "No, you haven't, but you will."

Kakashi laughed. Confidence was an attractive feature, and Yamato exuded it. Even though he had planned to read all evening, Kakashi could put it off until after dinner. Ordering takeout would be better than cooking, especially if he could convince Yamato to get something that had vegetables. "We can split it," he began, holding up one hand and tipping his head to the side. "If, and only if, you order something healthy,"

"Work out with me next time, and you won't have to worry about it," Yamato laughed. "I'll order something, then hop in the shower. I should be done by the time it gets here, but I'm pretty sure it's your turn to pay."

"I think it's your turn." Kakashi feigned disinterest, as if he didn't know that Yamato had paid the last three times they'd ordered dinner.

Yamato rolled his eyes. "Your apartment or mine?"

Half an hour later, Yamato paid the delivery driver and accepted the box of food. Kakashi watched him hand over a much larger tip than was necessary, especially considering that the pizza place was only a couple of blocks from the apartment. He thought about saying something, but generosity was a quirk of Yamato's. While Kakashi didn't share the same philosophy, it made Yamato easier to trick into paying every time they ordered takeout.

After setting the box on the kitchen table and flipping it open, Yamato turned toward the kitchen. Kakashi watched the man with a hint of amusement in his charcoal eye. His neighbor moved around the apartment with an air of familiarity. The man had an impeccable memory, pulling plates from the cabinet without having to ask where they were. After setting them on the table, Yamato helped himself to a bottle of water from the fridge, then held one out to Kakashi.

Taking the drink, Kakashi glanced at the pizza and frowned. "I thought you were going to get something healthy. That was part of our deal."

"It has vegetables," Yamato argued, picking up a slice and dropping it on a plate. "Besides, I'm the one paying for it. You could cook, if you'd rather."

Instead of complaining more, Kakashi opted for grumbling under his breath while picking meat off the pizza. There were some vegetables, yes, but they were swimming in grease from the pepperoni. Even so, Kakashi reasoned that one or two pieces wouldn't kill him.

Yamato raised his eyes briefly when Kakashi settled next to him and reached for the mask that covered his face. The man's gaze lingered for a moment, then he looked away. For some reason, Yamato was one of the few people who didn't seem to be perpetually trying to see beneath the cloth. It was one of his more redeeming features.

"How's work?" Yamato asked, keeping his eyes on his plate, the wall, or anything that wasn't Kakashi's face as they ate.

"The same as always," Kakashi responded with a shrug. "Yours, sensei?"

Yamato physically cringed when Kakashi's voice curled teasingly around the title. The man didn't talk about his work often, but Kakashi knew that he instructed children in martial arts at one of the local dojo. The few stories that Yamato had shared were enough to make Kakashi swear off the idea of ever working with children. Not that he would want to anyway; they were far too needy and opinionated for his tastes. Kakashi affected an eye-smile now that his mask back in place. "Any other kids decide to use your face as their personal punching bag lately?"

The younger man laughed and ran a hand over his chin, shaking his head. The last time the two had eaten dinner together, Yamato's lip had been busted and swollen, and one of his eyes blackened. Kakashi figured that whichever student had landed not one, but two hits on his sensei, had to be exceptionally skilled. "No, thankfully," Yamato answered, reaching for another piece of pizza. "They've been behaving themselves lately."

Dinner passed with easy, mundane conversation about work and the weather. Domestic, Kakashi's mind supplied the word as Yamato stood, carrying their plates to the kitchen. This is how normal people spend their evenings, talking about life and enjoying being together, even if it's boring.

Kakashi watched the man as he moved around the small kitchen, rinsing their dishes. Yamato had changed into jeans and button up shirt after his shower. Both hugged his body, drawing attention to the play of muscles beneath the fabric. When the man stretched to put the plates on the top shelf, Kakashi became uncomfortably aware of the way that his shirt inched upward to reveal a strip of tanned skin. Kakashi coughed, and tore his attention away.

The noise drew Yamato's gaze, and Kakashi looked for a way to change the subject. Even if he was the only one aware of it. "Since when do you wear glasses, anyway," he asked, carrying the box to the refrigerator.

"Since I was about eight," Yamato teased. "And since my contacts were bothering me after I showered. You don't like them?" The man grinned as he pushed the dark frames higher on the bridge of his nose.

"I didn't say that," Kakashi mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

A crash as something, or someone, thudded against the wall in the next room, kept Kakashi from having to complete that thought. Yamato startled, reaching toward his back in a movement that tickled at something in the back of Kakashi's mind. He arched one silver eyebrow as the sound faded. It wasn't repeated. Glancing at Yamato, he laughed. "Surely, after living here for so long, you've become familiar with Anko's antics."

Yamato shrugged. "I haven't paid much attention to her. There are far more interesting people to talk to after all." Kakashi paused, wondering what Yamato was trying to hint at when the moment passed.

With one final glance at the wall, Yamato stood and turned back to Kakashi. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

The question startled Kakashi; Yamato rarely invited himself over like this. The other man was obviously on edge tonight, glancing toward the wall that joined Anko's apartment. Normally, Kakashi excelled at reading people, but Yamato remained a mystery. Most of the time, the man came across as carefree and friendly, a little obsessed with staying in shape, but otherwise normal. Sometimes, however, Kakashi swore that Yamato was far more intelligent than he let on, like he was studying Kakashi for some reason that he couldn't fathom.

Glancing at the clock, Kakashi realized it was ten 'til nine, later than he'd realized. While spending the evening with his book sounded like a good way to unwind, watching a movie with Yamato wouldn't be a loss either. Kakashi enjoyed the man's company, after all, and since he didn't have to work tomorrow, he could read then. "Sure, why not," he answered with a shrug.

The pair made their way to the living room without speaking. Kakashi immediately settled in his chair, pulling the light blanket over himself even though the apartment was more than warm enough without it. Yamato noticed, but didn't ask about the quirk, as he took a seat on the couch. The man frowned at the overhead light, and without asking permission, stood to turn it off, so that only the silver glow from the television filled the room. Kakashi glanced toward him in surprise, then flipped to the correct channel. The whispered reminder of what domestic life must be like flitted across his mind again, but he pushed it away.

After several moments of awkward silence, the movie started. True to its billing, it was filled with explosions, car chases, and badly done fight scenes. After a particularly horrendous fight where the main character fired three more rounds than his magazine held, Kakashi almost commented on the error. Only remembering that he wasn't supposed to know about that lifestyle stilled his tongue. Near the end of the movie, Kakashi swore that Yamato started to say something during one of the car chases, but the man shook his head and remained silent.

By the end of the movie, Kakashi's head bobbed toward his chest with exhaustion. He caught Yamato grinning at him once, but Kakashi swore he hadn't fallen asleep for more than two or three minutes. When the credits started to roll, both men broke the silence by mumbling that the movie had been good. Kakashi knew it wasn't, and he suspected that Yamato did as well, but it wasn't worth discussing.

"I guess I better go home since you're falling asleep, old man," Yamato chuckled, standing to stretch.

Kakashi mimicked the movement, only with a frown instead. "I'm not that much older than you."

"The grey hair threw me off," Yamato responded with another grin.

Rolling his eyes, Kakashi walked the man to the door. Yamato paused in the hallway, looking around before turning to Kakashi like he wanted to say something. The silence stretched for a moment, then the he shook his head, bid Kakashi goodnight, and walked to his apartment without a backward glance.

Wondering what Yamato had wanted to say, Kakashi yawned and closed the door. That was another thing he could worry about tomorrow.

The feeling that something wasn't right woke Kakashi from the half sleep that he fell into most nights. He barely had a moment to register that someone else was in the room before a hand closed over his mouth. Kakashi jerked, struggling frantically against the weight that settled on his chest, trying to reach for his weapon. The attacker caught his hand, pinning it to the mattress. Kakashi arched, trying to gain more momentum with his legs, but the weight distributed itself more evenly, preventing further movement.

Iron grips closed around each of Kakashi's wrists, holding them in place as something heavy settled across his thighs. Adrenaline made his heartbeat roar in his ears, and a dark shape solidified into a familiar form. Yamato's face peered down at him, glasses askew from their scuffle. The fight flooded out of a Kakashi's body, leaving confusion in its place.

Sensing the change, Yamato whispered. "I'm going to let you go now, and you aren't going to reach for the weapon hidden under that pillow, deal?"

Kakashi nodded grudgingly, and the weight lessened. Yamato slid off the bed and raised both hands with palms forward in the universal symbol that he was unarmed. Kakashi's head spun as he sat up, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Do you have a go bag somewhere?" The younger man asked, foot just short of tapping with impatience. "A bug out bag? Something for when things go sideways?"

Kakashi opened his mouth, trying to reconcile the idea of his handsome next-door-neighbor who went for runs and willingly worked with children, as someone who would have a go bag. Or know about the weapon under my pillow, he thought dazedly. Try as he might, Kakashi couldn't make the pieces fit together.

"Get up. We have to go," Yamato ordered, crossing the room to rifle through Kakashi's closet, throwing jeans and a hoodie on the bed. Kakashi dragged his t-shirt off the floor, pulled it over his head, then reached for the hoodie. His hand paused over the jeans as he watched Yamato shuffling around the room.

"Go where?" Kakashi questioned, reaching for the Sig hidden beneath the pillow next to him. He didn't chamber a round, or even raise the weapon, he simply wanted to know that it was close.

Yamato turned. "Your life is in danger, but I don't have time to explain. We have to move, so you're just going to have to trust me." The man looked at his watch. "Get changed. In three minutes, I'm leaving, with or without you."

Kakashi grabbed his jeans, and Yamato half turned to watch from the corner of his eye. The older man snorted. "Do you mind?"

Laughing, Yamato tapped his watch. "Not as long as you hurry. Let's go. I'll explain everything once we get you somewhere safe."

Years of training pulled in the back of Kakashi's mind. He had no reason to trust Yamato, but the man clearly shared some sort of similar past. He moved efficiently around the room, pulling out all of the things that they would need on the run.

When Kakashi emerged from the bedroom, still buttoning his pants, he found Yamato standing by the door. The man wore jeans, boots, a black t-shirt, and a dark leather jacket with a bag thrown over his left shoulder. "We have one minute. Get your shoes on." Yamato practically bounced on his toes in eagerness to get out the door as Kakashi pulled on his sneakers.

"What going on?" Kakashi questioned, joining Yamato at the door. The man held a finger to his lips, then reached toward the small of his back to pulled out a weapon. The fact that he carried a Glock didn't even surprise Kakashi. Of course he would; it fit him.

Once Yamato was sure that Kakashi would remain quiet, he stepped into the hallway. Expertly keeping his back to the wall, the man swept the space for intruders. Kakashi followed him, frowning at the odd behavior. Nodding, Yamato took the stairs down to the garage. He ducked around the corner with his gun raised in a two-handed grip, but that area was empty as well. Without pause, Yamato tucked the weapon away behind his back, and walked over to a motorcycle that Kakashi had never seen him ride.

The man slid a helmet over his head, then tossed a second one to Kakashi. "Put it on. Safety first."

Before Kakashi could come up with a decent response, Yamato slung a leg across the bike. He rolled it backward, then let the engine roar to life, filling the space around them. A deafening crash sounded from upstairs, as Yamato revved the bike.

Kakashi paused, having only seconds to decide. He could follow Yamato, or go back upstairs and see what the noise was about. It couldn't have anything to do with him. It shouldn't-but what if it does, it wouldn't be the first time someone tried to kill me-Yamato offered an escape. Cursing softly under his breath, Kakashi placed a hand ono the man's shoulder, and swung onto the motorcycle behind him.

With one last glance back at the apartment garage and the safe life he'd built for himself, Kakashi wrapped his arms around Yamato's chest as they peeled out of the building. They were less than a block away when the apartment exploded.