Orochimaru's intense flexibility is like 85% he's just naturally flexible. As such, he knows Flexible Person Level Yoga to keep limber. (AKA, I had the idea of Oro in yoga clothes complete with hair done up and had to share)
I COULDN’T RESIST I’M SORRY.
It’s not his proudest moment, but Sakumo takes one look at the newest occupant of the gym and walks into a wall.
Thankfully, the gods are merciful, because the very, very lovely yoga practitioner doesn’t so much as blink while Dai fusses and Sakumo tries (in vain) to wave him off and nurse his bruised nose and fractured dignity on his own. He still can’t quite take his eyes off the man, even with the plaster practically bearing the imprint of his face; the stranger is contorted, like a handstand except his body is curled over to leave his feet in front of his head, and the pose brings every sleek muscle into sharp definition.
Sakumo’s mouth is desert-dry, and he has to swallow carefully.
“Shall I get you some ice, my friend?” Dai asks with a hearty slap on the back, and by the twinkle in his eye he knows exactly where Sakumo was looking.
Sakumo gives his friend an abashed look. “No, don’t bother. I’ll be fine.”
“You certainly will be,” Dai says cheerfully, with a grin that’s almost a smirk, and disappears towards the weights.
Honestly, Sakumo doesn’t know whether to be grateful or annoyed, because now he’s alone and that leaves him with far too few places to focus on that aren’t the stranger’s long, lean legs in very brief shorts, or the masses of midnight hair that are coming loose from a high bun, the bare chest arched at an extreme angle, or the corded arms holding his entire bodyweight perfectly still and stable.
Gods, Sakumo hasn’t been this attracted to someone he doesn’t even know since high school.
He shakes his head at his own ridiculousness, rising to his feet and collecting his towel and water bottle before he turns to find the treadmills. Of course, the easiest path to them takes him right past the yoga mats, but he keeps his eyes on the far wall and tells himself very firmly not to be a creep.
Then, with a long, slow breath that’s almost a sigh, the stranger unfolds. His stance shifts, legs extending and bending further even as his wrists turn, and with a lithe flex of muscle he sets his feet on the floor and pulls upright, coming to a stop inches from Sakumo’s nose.
Oh, Sakumo thinks, as long lashes slide up to reveal golden eyes shadowed with dramatic sweeps of purple. Oh holy hell, I’m in trouble.
The stranger blinks once, twice, and then offers Sakumo a smile that’s just a little too sly not to short out Sakumo’s brain. “Sorry about that,” he says lightly. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
I will happily devote my life to making sure you never stop paying attention to me again, Sakumo almost says, but even with his brain currently leaking out his ears he isn’t that creepy.
“No problem,” he says instead, and just hopes it doesn’t sound as strangled as he fears. “I should have gone around.”
“Orochimaru!” someone calls, and the man turns, loose strands of black hair swaying over the pale nape of his neck. Sakumo wants to put his mouth there.
“Tsunade, you’re late,” Orochimaru says coolly.
The blond woman in exercise clothes rolls her eyes as she steps onto the mats. “Blame the pervert. He was trying to get into the locker room.”
“Did you call an ambulance when you were done with him?” Orochimaru’s smirking when he turns back, clearly unconcerned with the fate of this third friend, and when he catches Sakumo’s eye his expression shifts just slightly.
If Sakumo isn’t seeing things, that’s a definite spark of interest, and it makes his breath catch in his throat.
“Of course not.” Tsunade looks at Orochimaru, one brow rising, and then casts an assessing glance over Sakumo. She pauses for a moment, and asks, “Sakumo Hatake, right?” Sakumo and Orochimaru both look at her in surprise, and she smiles. “The pervert is Jiraiya. He’s mentioned you.”
Sakumo is definitely going to take his friend to task later for not mentioning that his other friend was transcendentally gorgeous and probably capable of knocking Sakumo on his ass. And in more ways than one.
“I’m Sakumo, yes. It’s nice to meet you,” he offers, and can’t help the way his eyes linger on Orochimaru as he says it.
“It certainly is,” Orochimaru returns, and offers one slim hand. His skin is cool, and Sakumo maybe lets his grip linger longer than is entirely polite.
Orochimaru’s smile says he doesn’t object at all. “Will you be here long?” he asks, tilting his head in a way that makes that hair brush across his shoulders. “We could get coffee after, if you’ve no plans.”
Sakumo has never had cause to be jealous of hair before, but clearly today is a day for discovering what new lows he can sink to.
It does help quite a lot that he’s fairly certain that was an offer for a date.
“I can cut out any time,” he offers, and at this point he doesn’t even care if he sounds too eager. “I was just going to do a little lifting.”
Orochimaru’s eyes flicker down to his biceps, bared by his loose tank top, and Sakumo thinks he sees him swallow. “Well then. I’ll come find you when we’re through?”
Sakumo grins at him. “Works for me.”
And gods, does it ever. Dubious beginnings aside, this is promising to be a fantastic day.