It’s about half past three in the morning, or maybe it’s actually closer to seven, Jiro’s not really sure. Time really flies by when you’re up to the elbow in bodily fluids and trying not to let your patient’s sucking chest wound become a fatal sucking chest wound. Also, this is the last time he takes the graveyard shift because those are the worst–except that’s a lie because all shifts are the worst, no matter what time of day–and why did he ever decide to be a medic nin? Why couldn’t he be something less stressful like T&I or ANBU?
Somehow he gets through the front door and doesn’t trip and crack his head open, even though he told Youbirin to stop leaving his sandals right at the front entrance about a thousand times and by all things that are good and holy in this world, he is too tired for this.
Sakura is asleep in the living room again, something he can sense by her chakra signature and the way her hair is so ridiculously visible even in the low light. No doubt if he went to check, he’d find her hunched over notes, drooling slightly and passed out from exhaustion. She’ll complain about a crick in her neck when she wakes up, and that would serve her right.
But if she wakes up cranky then that means she won’t make bento lunches for all of them and she has been getting better at cooking so he goes over and flares his chakra once, twice, thrice, just enough to rouse her from sleep and let her know who it is that’s adjusting her to a more horizontal position. She’ll complain about being on the floor, but she won’t actually be in pain, so the bento just won’t be as elaborate but they’ll be there.
He’s debating whether or not he should make himself coffee–if he wants to ride out the day on caffein and try to reset his sleep schedule by at least waiting until the afternoon–or if he shouldn’t and should just go to sleep now and damn any forward planning, except Youbirin must have sensed his chakra too and now he’s picking his way through their living room turned into Sakura’s makeshift office and obnoxiously leaning his massive weight against Jiro like he doesn’t have at least six centimeters and nearly ten kilograms on him.
“Food,” Youbirin mumbles drowsily against the top of Jiro’s head which would be, frankly, infuriating, if he had any energy to spare.
As it is, Jiro lethargically tries to shrug him off and, when that fails, prop him against the wall or something less liable to keel over themselves at any time.
“You need to learn how to cook,” he grumbles back, but heads to the refrigerator anyway because now that he thinks about it, he’s hungry, too.
“Can’t, won’t,” Youbirin responds and, well, he kind of has a point because Youbirin once burned water and Sakura banned him from ever coming near the stove on pain of taijutsu only spar. And only an idiot–or a lovestruck masochist like Rock Lee–would go up against Sakura in a taijutsu spar.
Their fridge is a bleak wasteland as empty as his chakra reserves.
The pantry isn’t much better.
“Whose turn was it to shop for groceries?” Jiro asks, because, damn it, now he’s really hungry too.
Youbirin, now slouched halfway down the wall yet not quite sitting on the floor and eyes tenaciously closed, blearily suggests, “Check the chore chart,” the syllables tripping over his tongue.
Jiro glances around their apartment skeptically, every surface covered in charts and graphs, yes, but also prototype seals and jutsu and half-filled applications for new drugs because they are very much their sensei’s students. Finding their optimistically created chore chart would be like finding a specific kunai on a battlefield.
“Let’s just order in,” he suggests instead, grateful that the Akimichi are such a large part of Konoha’s food industry and thus have restaurants open twenty four hours a day with delivery.
“I want gyouza,” calls Sakura’s voice from the living room, because, yeah, sure. Why not? Might as well feed everyone all at once.
Jiro, as the only one standing, reaches for their phone and the dials in the number for the nearest Akimichi restaurant by heart because it’s actually shameful how frequently they order delivery at odd hours.
“I could’ve been a merchant,” he sighs after putting in the order–well, really, all he said was “This is Jiro Watanabe,” and the server just asked “The usual” and waited for an affirmative grunt before hanging up–sliding himself to the floor, too, because the floor is appparently super comfy. Gods, he’s tired.
“I could’ve been a farmer,” Sakura adds, having crawled her way into the kitchen to join them. It’s a familiar game, one they play distressingly often.
“I could’ve been some noble’s kept boy toy,” Youbirin finishes, the thought so ludicrous that, after a beat of stunned weary silence, they all burst out laughing.
Because being a medic nin is terrible. It’s disgusting and difficult and draining, even in peace time, and it’s not at all what he thought he’d be doing when he graduated from the Academy almost ten years ago. And yet? He’d never be satisfied with anything else.
He’d get bored as a merchant or a farmer or even some noble’s kept boy toy; doesn’t need to be T&I or ANBU to know that it wouldn’t be as fulfilling. He’s exhausted and hungry and slightly delirious for it, laughing hysterically on the floor of the kitchen with his two best friends in the world–he’s a medic nin and he wouldn’t change a thing.
A/N: This is set in the Team Medic AU spinoff of DoS in which Sakura’s Team One with Youbirin Nohara and Jiro Watanabe wound up with a medic nin jounin sensei and they ended up passing because of it.
I had some Team Medic feels, @kuipernebula, hope you don’t mind. Just some random ficlets set in the ambiguous future, and I tried not to let it outrightly contradict anything we’ve discussed (though apparently, Youbirin is now taller and heavier than Jiro… uh, but I guess that was kind of a fifty fifty chance on who would end up taller so…).
Also, apparently there are mobile/cell phones in the Naruto world. Which is super weird to me but, whatevs. And sure it’s in the epilogue/Boruto gaiden but, seeing as how Shikako exists in DoS she may help that along faster. And this is set in ambiguously them being late teens/early twenties so… maybe right now they only have landlines?