The Healing

I don’t own Naruto



The Healing



Chapter Three



Minato blinked awake, surprised that Naruto hadn’t started jumping on him. It wasn’t often that Naruto allowed him to sleep in, especially on a Saturday, which was their ‘father-son’ day. He prayed his son wasn’t sick. If there was anything worse than a healthy Naruto, it was a sick one. His son could whine with the best of them when feeling under the weather.



For several minutes he lay enjoying the quite. He wouldn’t trade his son for anything but the moments like this were to be relished for they were all too fleeting and didn’t happen often. A quick glance at the clock said it was barely eight. He yawned, stretched, wandered into the bathroom to brush his teeth and relieve his bladder before deciding it was time to track down his son to determine what travesty brought about being allowed to sleep past seven.



Slipping a plush housecoat on to ward off the chill, Minato trudged down the stairs. What he saw gave him enough pause to stop and gape. Curled up on the couch with his head in Naruto’s lap was Sasuke. Itachi sat opposite Naruto with Sasuke’s feet in his lap. The older glanced up at Minato’s entrance, revealing heavily shadowed eyes as he struggled to maintain the emotionless façade he’d begun to carve his face into.



It had been almost three months since Mikoto Uchiha’s death. From what he’d gleaned from Naruto, Fugaku had thrown himself into his work with a fury that rivaled even the most stringent workaholic. It was understandable to look for distractions from grief but what worried Minato was the newly widowed father and his sons stopped coming for meals. Sasuke spent a lot of time with Naruto, and occasionally Itachi would join them but never Fugaku.



Minato had seen the increasingly despondence in the younger Uchihas but could only stand by silently. It was expected. There had never been a reason to worry about them. They were grieving for their mother and sadness plastered on their features was to be expected.



“You boys are here early.” Minato walked around the sofa to stare at the three boys, concern tinting his voice.



Itachi dropped his eyes and Sasuke buried his face even tighter into Naruto’s abdomen. Even Naruto’s normally vibrant personality seemed diminished this morning, making Minato significantly more nervous. There were few things able to quite Naruto’s exuberance, extreme worry being one of them.



“Naruto…did something happen?”



Naruto nibbled on his lower lip, looking indecisive. “Kinda…”



“Naruto, you know you can tell me anything. What happened? Itachi? Does your father know you’re here?”



Itachi glanced at Sasuke and Naruto before pulling his brother into a sitting position. At first he kept his face hidden beneath the long bangs framing his face. Upon closer inspection, a faint bruise graced his cheek. Sasuke looked up at Minato through his bangs, showing heavily shadowed eyes riddled with sadness. Itachi’s were much the same only anger tinged the edge of his.



“Did…?” Minato crouched before the sofa, his hands pushing back the hair to better look at the slightly swollen cheek. It wasn’t bad and would probably fade easily within a day or two. It was more of a slap bruise than a punch. Sasuke’s light complexion made it more visible. On himself or Naruto, it probably wouldn’t even be visible.



“Sasuke’s grades have been dropping,” explained Itachi with concern in his eyes as they turned to stare at his brother. “His report card showed a few Bs and several Cs. It is a significant drop from straight As. Father wasn’t happy. He’s been drinking a lot as well. He was still drunk from last night when he found Sasuke’s report card in his book bag. He pulled him out of bed. The arguing started…and then, he hit him.”



Minato left, returning several minutes later with an ice pack and placed it on Sasuke’s cheek. “How did you get here? Did you call a cab?”



“I only have a learners permit but we needed to get out of the house. It was early but here was the only place we could go so we took Mother’s car.” Itachi allowed Sasuke to snuggle close to him, hiding the bruised cheek from Minato’s eyes.



“Dad…isn’t there anything you can do to help?” Naruto turned large pleading eyes to Minato.



“I don’t know…I haven’t spoken to Fugaku since shortly after Mikoto’s funeral. I’ve been allowing him his space to grieve.” Minato winced at the pleading looks on all three faces. It was bad enough when Naruto did that but it seemed he’d taught the Uchiha boys his special trick as well. And it was working.



“Please, Mr. Namikaze. You helped him before. Please, help us get our father back. When we were coming here, Father was different. You brought out something in him that only Mother ever did.” Itachi looked down, his long hair hiding his face from view. “Our family is dying before our eyes.”



Minato was floored by what he was seeing from the two boys and that Fugaku, even drunk, had fallen so low as to hit his ten year old son. He’d known he shouldn’t have left Fugaku alone to grieve but it wasn’t his place to be at his side during this time. It had become too dangerous for Minato, emotionally. Despite the other’s grief, Minato had begun longing for a deeper relationship with Fugaku. Without any certainty Fugaku could even feel that way with him, he’d allowed him to pull away and into his shell. He’d thought he could deal with losing his wife alone. Apparently, he was wrong.



“Have you boys eaten?” Both looked as if they’d lost weight but not enough for him to worry for their health. The weight loss was probably a direct result of their grief and not from lack of food options.



Though impatience ate away at him, it was best to take care of the boys’ immediate needs before confronting Fugaku. His anger burned beneath the surface. It had been a long time since he’d wanted to storm from the house and beat the shit out of someone. Drunk or not, there was no excuse for emotionally or physically abusing a child.



All three shook their heads, Sasuke curling against Itachi. “I’m not hungry.”



A small stomach rumbled, making Sasuke’s cheeks flair red. Minato smiled, patting the head gently. “Naruto, why don’t you go help them wash up then come help me in the kitchen.”



The blond head shot up, smile finally working across his cheeks. “Pancakes?”



“Sure.” Minato moved through the kitchen on auto-pilot. It was hard but Fugaku’s apparent depression reminded him of the first six months after Kushina’s death. If not for his godfather Jiraiya, he might have fallen into the same pit Fugaku now lived in. Jiraiya didn’t seem the type who knew his way around a nursery but somehow the two made it work. Jiraiya had forced Minato to accept his son and learn to live without Kushina in his life.



By the time all three returned, he had the first batch of pancakes on the table. Naruto took out the butter, syrup, and honey--honey for Sasuke and syrup for Itachi. “Naruto, do you think you’ll be alright alone with Itachi and Sasuke while I go speak with their father?”



“I’ll take care of them!” He thumped his chest with a fist. “I won’t let anything hurt them. Believe it!”



Minato smirked at his son, turning to Itachi with a twinkle in his eye. “Itachi, I’m leaving you in charge.”



Naruto’s proudly puffed out chest deflated as quickly as it rose. “But Dad! It‘s my house. I‘m supposed to be in charge.”



“Maybe next time, little man.” Minato ruffled his son’s hair. “You’re still a little young to be left in charge.”



Itachi snickered into his syrup layered breakfast, earning him an annoyed glare from the younger blond. “I guess that means you and Sasuke are my slaves.”



“Meany!” Naruto pouted and crossed his arms. “Me and Sasuke will revolt and create a resolution.”



Itachi rolled his eyes. “It’s revolution.”



“That’s what I said, resolution.” Naruto shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth, looping an arm around Sasuke’s shoulder. “Right, ‘Suke?”



“Moron,” the younger Uchiha mumbled into his milk glass.



“I’m not a moron. I can beat you at Gran Prix racing, hands down.”



Sasuke’s eyes sparked at the challenge. “Bring it on!”



Minato left the three arguing about resolution versus revolution and who was better at racing a digital car around a digital track with the fastest time. As long as they were occupied, Itachi would keep them from killing each other. He dressed quickly in jeans and a sweater before beginning the short drive to the Uchiha home.



It was cold and a thin layer of snow crunched beneath his boots with each step up the unshoveled driveway. He could see where someone--probably Itachi--had been shoveling it to make a somewhat decent walkway to the residence. The house itself looked almost forlorn compared to the day of the funeral when it still possessed a spark of life.



He stood debating for a minute before retrieving Itachi‘s house key from his pocket and using it to open the front door. If Fugaku was sleeping off liquor, he wouldn’t be likely to hear a knock, much less answer it.



“Fugaku? Fu?” Minato stomped his feet on the mat and hung his jacket on the coat rack beside the door. “Are you home?”



There wasn’t an answer, and Minato glanced around the downstairs before making his way up the familiar flight of stairs he’d helped Fugaku up the day of Mikoto’s funeral. After systematically checking each room, he finally located Fugaku slumped against the toilet in one of the guest bathrooms. He looked terrible. His hair had taken on a shaggy appearance compared to the well groomed look he’d possessed upon first meeting him. The bags beneath his eyes were so dark they stood out like bruises against pale skin that had nothing to do with complexion and everything to do with not taking care of one’s self. In short, Fugaku Uchiha was a shadow of his former self.



“God, Fu…” Minato crouched beside the man he’d come to know in the weeks before Mikoto’s death. “You look like shit.”



Bloodshot eyes lifted to glare at the other before he bent over the toilet once more to gag and convulse despite having long since emptied his stomach of everything it could possibly expel. Minato knew full well the havoc a hangover of this magnitude could wrack on an individual.



He shook his head, but went about searching through drawers until he found a washcloth. Wetting it with cool water, he pressed it to Fugaku’s head as another spasm wracked the half clothed body.



While Fugaku was lacking the strength to do more than glare at Minato, he did still possess his sharp tongue. “What are you doing here?”



“I woke up this morning to find your two sons in my living room with Naruto. Care to tell me why you are forcing your sons to mourn not only their mother’s death, but yours as well?” Minato passed a cup of mouthwash to Fugaku while continuing to glare at the other.



“I’m not dead,” he grumbled in Minato’s direction, turning to start the shower.



“You might as well be. Those boys need their father.” Minato swallowed the burning anger rising in his throat like bile. Fugaku didn’t need anger. He needed support. He needed to be forced to face not only the loss of his wife, but also the potential loss of his children. “You hit your son. Do you even remember? You can see the bruise on his face.”



Fugaku whirled to face Minato. “I didn’t…”



“Yes, you did. You’re drowning, Fugaku.” Minato stared deeply into tired eyes. “You’re drowning, and your sons are watching without knowing how to save you.”



Fugaku lifted his fists to cover red eyes. His face scrunched up as if he was willing the world to fall away beneath him. Minato reached out a hand, touching the bare shoulder only to have it shoved away. This was the moment he dreaded for Fugaku.



“I…can’t…I don’t…” Fugaku was breaking apart at the very seams but when Minato thought back on Kushina’s death, was he really so different? If Jiraiya hadn’t been there, would he have survived her loss? If not for Naruto’s tiny existence, could he have gone on? He wasn’t sure he wanted to think about it. Fugaku needed to know there were others there willing to share the burden.



“You can…I know what you’re going through. Trust me. I know it better than anyone. You’ve got your sons to think of. They need their father and you need to accept that Mikoto is dead.”



“Bastard! I know she’s dead! I know it! I see her everywhere! Even my own sons look at me with her eyes.” Angry dark eyes lifted and a clumsy fist was thrown in Minato’s direction. It was easily dodged, but threw Fugaku off balance enough for Minato to pin his arms.



“I know.” Minato fought to contain him while he struggled. They’d fallen to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. Fugaku was stronger than he appeared, and it took all Minato’s strength to hold him still while he fought through his anger. It was time for Fugaku to move through the stages of grief. Even if he hated him later, Minato wanted Fugaku to see that he needed to pull himself together for his sons. Though he was certain it was a painful thought, there was life after Mikoto.



The struggles wavered and stopped, the pale chest panting heavily against him. Minato glanced at Fugaku, seeing tears running down his face, catching in his hair like small diamonds. “I don’t know…how to be…without her.”



“You’ll learn. Some times it takes a while, but you learn.”



Minato pulled Fugaku in his arms. It was strange seeing another man broken down like this. One would expect it from women, but not from a man. They were supposed to be strong, to never show emotion. He felt almost honored at Fugaku allowing him to see him in such a situation. He’d reached the bottom of the well.



Sobs wracked the body pressed against him, and it occurred to Minato--this might be the first time Fugaku had been given to truly mourn the loss of his wife. His hands stroked gently over the mussed hair, feeling the shaking body press even tighter against him. Each heart wrenching sound brought back the memories of Kushina and the nights spent sobbing into the bed. The world had seemed at its end.



“It will be alright.”



Hours or minutes could have passed, but it wasn’t until sooty lashes, wet and clumped together, lifted to stare at Minato that he realized just how much he wanted to heal Fugaku. He felt a connection with him he couldn’t describe. They were good together; their personalities different enough to perfectly compliment the other.



The tired bloodshot eyes blinked several times before a hand lifted to touch his face. It was the softest of touches and forced a response from Minato he’d hoped to hide. For the last few months, he’d done it so well. He’d hidden his attraction from even himself. He’d hidden from the glaring fact of his physical attraction to Fugaku Uchiha. Even in the wake of his wife’s death, he wanted him. He wanted to take him hard and fast, to brand himself on the other’s very soul.



He’d never denied his attraction to men. Kushina had joked endlessly about him falling in love with her because she reminded him of men. It hadn’t been true, but he’d taken the jokes in stride. It hadn’t mattered to him, he’d loved her all the same and her death had nearly destroyed him as Mikoto’s was doing to Fugaku.



It was hard to approach other men without being in the comfort of a gay bar. One never knew a man’s proclivities unless he asked. Picking up women was immensely easier in Minato’s opinion. Kushina had practically thrown herself at him.



From the first moment he’d seen him sitting on the park bench beside Itachi, Minato had secretly desired Fugaku. It was something he’d learned to push aside quickly and effortless in favor of a friendship.



He’d invited him into his home out of willingness to form a friendship and nothing more. Now, faced with the mostly naked body pressed against him, he was unable to quell the burning heat rising to the surface and threatening to engulf him entirely. He needed to back away from the scene. The arousal burning in his veins was threatening to boil over into an actual physical reaction. He didn’t want to ruin a friendship because his dick wanted attention.



“Fugaku…”



Fugaku merely continued to look at him through dark soulful eyes. They weren’t dead or emotionless as some might think. Instead, they pulled you into a dark swirling abyss Minato was all too willing to fall into. There was the inability to do naught but follow the pull. He might burn in hell for taking advantage of a man’s grief and if he did, he would do so willingly.



His thumb stroked along the high cheekbones, down the firm jaw. There was only the faintest rise of stubble on the skin, giving it almost a sandpapery feel. Fugaku probably only had to shave every other day at the most, a benefit of his Asian ancestry.



“Minato…”



He obviously didn’t know what he was asking for though his eyes pleaded for something he couldn‘t name. Minato could pull away, make a joke, and leave Fugaku to shower. They could blame the moment on male bonding and forget it just as quickly. Things would be normal. Minato could work with Fugaku on opening up to his grief and maybe his sons would lose the despondent look in their eyes.



And he lacked the willpower to do so.



He was quick to lower his lips, no innocent kisses or apologetic embraces. This was about comfort, the only comfort able to get through in this moment. Physical.



He didn’t care if Fugaku liked men. He was responding to the hard rubbing of their lips against each other. He was gripping at Minato’s shirt desperately, pressing back into the kiss with his lips and tongue. He seemed more than willing to accept him, and that was enough for Minato’s lust clogged brain.



There was still time to back away but he lacked any desire to do so. The instinct of self preservation was ignored in favor of lips being offered to him. They tasted faintly of the mint mouthwash Minato had given Fugaku as he hunched over the toilet. His tongue brushed against smooth teeth before dipping inside to dance along the roof of the other’s mouth.



The water pounding from the shower misted on them in a cool spray against their heated skin. Minato pulled away only for a moment, pressing down the lever to stop the water. The movement gave him a chance to consider what he was doing. It was wrong. This wasn’t good for either of them. He should stop it before something happed to cause regret in both of them.



“Fugaku…I…”



Fugaku’s hands clenched in the knit of Minato’s sweater. “Don’t stop.”



“We can’t…you don’t want this.”



“I need to forget.” Fugaku’s hands pushed beneath the sweater to tease the firm muscles clenching beneath tan skin.



It was perhaps something out of a fantasy. To be asked to help another forget their pain through pleasure. It was wrong on so many levels. His body desperately wanted it, but his mind balked at taking advantage of Fugaku no matter what the other wanted. Minato opened his mouth to refute the plea when Fugaku’s lips covered his own.



His resolve flittered away on the breeze, replaced once more by desire and lust. If it was a sin to lust for another, he was destined to be damned for eternity. His misgivings were brushed aside as his body overrode every conscious thought and replaced it with only one--to take what was offered and revel in it. The clear line was once more blurred in favor of the need bubbling to the surface.



Minato’s hands clenched at Fugaku’s waist, pulling him closer so their chests pressed against each other. Fugaku’s hands tore at Minato’s sweater while tan hands pressed into ever hollow and plane they could reach. They were gorging themselves on each other, relishing each and every moment as if it was their last.



Lips sucked and bit at lips, tongues pressing inside to dance intricately with one another. It wasn’t romance or love. There was no room for such things. Only the moment mattered. This was need--untempered, animalistic need.



Fugaku ground upward to press himself against Minato’s hips resulting in a low moan. Minato’s hands slid to squeeze into lean hips, bringing Fugaku even tighter against him. He needed the pressure against him. He needed release from the tension which had built slowly since meeting Fugaku.



“God!” He couldn’t believe his senses. The lean frame beneath him undulated against him in desperation for the mind numbing ending. It was driving him mad with pleasure to feel each slow grind against him. A rising heat threatened to send him quickly over the edge. Things needed to slow down or he would explode in a wave of pleasure and heat.



“Slow…down…” Minato gasped out, trying futilely to calm his racing heart.



“No.” Fugaku’s fingers were nimble in unfastening the button and zipper on Minato’s jeans, pulling them over his hips so that their erections pressed directly against each other. Minato’s neck arched backward, his head falling back as pleasure unlike anything he’d felt in years rushed through him. Perhaps he’d never felt pleasure this all consuming. His brain wasn’t able to process anything but the feel of Fugaku against him, let alone recall previous experiences.



Words were lost between them, only the feel of hands and lips. Minato soon matched Fugaku in desperation. Hips ground together, one of Minato’s hands reaching between their gyrating bodies to stroke their connected erections simultaneously. Dual moans erupted into each other’s mouths.



Fugaku pushed Minato back, straddling his hips and pressing downward to keep their intimate connection. There was no two but one. They moved together almost as if they’d spent their lives doing just this instead of mere moments.



All too soon the pleasure reached its peak. Try as he might, he couldn’t resist the pull tempting him to let go and fall with the promise of excruciatingly amazing pleasure. Fugaku released the faintest of whimpers, the sound being the final straw for Minato’s restraint.



His control was lost letting Minato be the first to topple over the edge, his teeth biting down on Fugaku’s lip as heat rushed through him with the power of an explosion. Cum splattered upward on his partner’s pale skin.



Fugaku moaned, his hand joining Minato’s to stroke desperately at his aching arousal, quickly following in suit over the edge. His cum shot in heavy spurts and he collapsed against Minato in the cool bathroom.



Their bodies created a heat, sweat rolling off them despite the chill of the bathroom. Neither spoke, the moment of peace too fragile. They didn’t want to break it and allow reality to seep into them. They needed this silence.



Minato was the first to break the silence, his voice echoing through the bathroom. “Fugaku…”



Fugaku sat back, embarrassment and anger fighting for dominance on his face. “You should leave.”



“We need to talk about what happened…and about your sons.”



“No! What happened was a mistake and my sons are my business.” Fugaku pulled his boxers over his hips once more, using a towel to wipe the cooling cum from his chest. “Leave.”



Minato rose to his feet, staring intensely at his friend. “You need to listen.”



“No. You need to listen. What happened last night was a mistake and won’t happen again. What happened today was a mistake as well and also won’t happen again. Leave. I’ll be by to retrieve my sons shortly. Please have them ready.” Fugaku turn to twist the water control handle.



Minato stood for a long moment feeling used. He felt alone, the most moving orgasm of his life was treated like something dirty to be removed and forgotten. Pain radiated from the vicinity of his heart, tearing invisible gashes through his chest. He couldn’t do it any longer.



“Fine.” Far be it for him to stay where he wasn’t wanted. It was best he leave before he poured more salt into the wound now residing in his chest. He didn’t leave in loud and explosive anger but with only the quiet clicking of the door against its jamb.



So focused on his own misery, Minato didn’t notice the fresh tears rolling down Fugaku’s face to splatter unseen on the tiles. Pain was evident on his face. His soul didn’t want to let Minato go but his pride held him back. A fist slamming onto the tiles was his last response before stepping into the shower and washing away all evidence of everything.



To be continued…



Thank you guys for all the reviews, it makes me happy you are all enjoying this story despite the emotional turmoil the characters are being put through. I hope you enjoy this next installment.