Ship: : Kakashi Hatake x Obito Uchiha

Genres: Slice of Life – Romance / One-shot

Rating: +16

Summary: Obito had just one wish, one fantasy. A kiss. To kiss Kakashi on the lips, just like in the books.

Enjoy!

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They’d been together for quite some time now. Several years.

Who was counting?

Not him. Not Obito.

Even though he woke up most mornings next to the love of his life – mission obliges – he still felt frustrated.

And, not to be outdone, their friends were teasing them following a drunken confession.

He wanted to kiss Kakashi. Passionately. On the lips. For him to take off that damn mask at least once so that Obito could finally have that mouth all to himself!

It wasn’t that he never took it off. He did, from time to time, when he felt completely at ease. Or when he wanted to leave a mark…

Blushing at the memory, he pressed a hand against his face, turning away from his neighbour, who was watching him with curiosity.

Given their fascinating conversation about the latest report forms, the jōnin must be suffering the embarrassment of an intrusive thought. And he was very keen to know what it was…

For science, of course!

Life as a jōnin was far from relaxing, but Obito had worked too hard to turn his nose up at it.

Well, only in front of a select audience and with alcohol in his blood…

He understood better why other jōnin remained single, or why they had relationships with civilians.

Where was the life of a couple, the affection, when you spent most of your days in the field, on a mission?

Where was the romance and tenderness when you stumbled home, covered in blood and other bodily fluids from your targets, dreaming only of a shower and a coma lasting several months?

Where was the spontaneity and the surprise when you could be called out at any moment, when a mission might take longer than expected, or when a stay in hospital made a return home uncertain?

But neither Obito nor Kakashi complained about it.

They were two orphans, one hated by his clan, the other by the village, who had learnt to gather every crumb of happiness within their reach and cherish it as the treasure it was.

Each in his own way, of course.

Settled comfortably in the living room, Obito had planned to catch up on the latest news when the familiar sound of his lover’s return reached his ears.

Folding his newspaper with a sigh, he stood up to run a bath, soon joined by a masked ANBU reeking of blood, trembling with exhaustion.

He gave him a warm smile and waited for his signal to move closer, lifting the porcelain mask to reveal Kakashi’s haunted eyes.

« Hello there. Need some help? »

He nodded silently and surrendered himself to his care, trusting him completely.

Obito carefully removed the uniform, familiar with the straps and seams, letting it fall to the floor in a dirty, tattered heap, revealing a sweaty, wounded and weary body. He offered him a hand to help him wriggle out of his trousers and then guided him to the stool so he could sit down.

The hot water washed away some of the grime, revealing the pale skin beneath, but the shampoo and shower gel took care of the rest, the lather changing colour depending on what lay beneath.

Seated behind him, Obito hummed absently, working the product through his lover’s distinctive hair until he was satisfied.

Beneath his fingers, he could feel the muscles relax as he gently worked them out as he went.

It had become their ritual, by necessity. As long as Kakashi had to deal with such gruelling missions, during which he felt as though he were losing his humanity, his partner made it a point of honour to stay by his side until he regained his footing in reality.

In the meantime, he took care of him.

Their eyes met across the mirror, and Obito smiled tenderly at him, amused by the shyness on the bare face.

The faint tip of the fangs was visible, despite the closed lips, but it was the Sharingan swirling lazily that drew him in, making him cup his hand over it, urging him to lower his eyelid.

« Something you like? » he asked.

The pale face flushed with embarrassment, and even more so at the realisation that there was nothing to hide it. In frustration, the shinobi buried his face in his hands, a plaintive sound escaping him.

Amused by his behaviour, Obito pressed his lips against a protruding vertebra, resuming his task without teasing him further.

When he had finished, he rinsed him thoroughly then guided him to the bath where the hot water completed its work of relaxation. Already, colour was returning to his cheeks; his eyes were closing and his shoulders were dropping, rounding.

But he was far from finished, moving the bench he had used earlier and setting about drying the silvery hair. Indeed, it held a well-kept secret: like the coats of dogs and wolves, the Hatake manes featured a layer of… undercoat? underhair? thick and short, in addition to the longer, more colourful strands, explaining the improbable natural hairstyles.

Not that he’d seen many, apart from Sakumo and Kakashi.

Aside from the aesthetic appeal, this feature provided good protection for the scalp against the cold and made the hair feel soft to the touch.

And it was a real chore to dry.

Yes, just like a duck’s feathers, water practically ran right off it, making washing it a more difficult task, and drying it even worse, requiring particular care.

But Obito wasn’t going to complain, as it allowed him to spend more time together!

Usually, bath time ended once his hair was completely dry, slowly settling back into its usual style.

By then, Kakashi was usually back with him, allowing him to tidy the room whilst he got dressed, and they had the rest of the day to themselves.

Enjoying the sun without exposing himself to it, Obito read comfortably on the engawa after his morning tending of the vegetable patch.

He loved being in touch with the earth and had therefore taken over what remained of Sakumo’s plot, pampering his seedlings with an enthusiasm not unlike that of his lover with his dogs.

They were their respective little babies!

Except that his were eaten.

The vegetables, that is.

Chuckling at his own silliness, the former Uchiha was interrupted by the arrival of Kakashi, who leaned against him, standing, his gaze lost in the distance.

« What are you doing in your juban? » his partner remarked.

« I was too hot. »

The good thing about love was that it made you telepathic.

Or maybe he just knew him too well.

Be that as it may, although he kept his attention fixed on the far end of the garden, the younger man must have sensed his companion’s unimpressed gaze, for he thought of a better answer:

« Clan leaders’ meeting », he muttered. « Tsumugi kimono required. I hate that. »

Satisfied, both by the clarification and by never having to sacrifice himself to such responsibilities, Obito turned a page, smiling.

He didn’t have to wait long before Kakashi lay down on the wooden slats, resting his legs on Obito’s.

« What are you staring at so intently? » he asked.

« The trees. I think they’ll need pruning soon. »

For a moment, Obito could only frown, unable to see what had led him to think that.

After that, it was his domain; it was up to him to sort it out!

For his part, Obito was content to focus his efforts on their home and his vegetable patch, which suited them both just fine.

Returning to his reading, he was once again torn away by a white threat fluttering at the edge of his field of vision, awakening all his survival instincts until they became the strongest, and he dropped his book in a rage, clenching his hands around… a calf?

« Ouch, » came a flat reply.

« Bakashi, what the hell are you doing with your leg? »

« I’m swinging it. »

Lying practically on his stomach, he didn’t change his position, one leg held aloft and the other resting obediently on Obito’s lap, the book open on top of it.

« I’d realised as much, thanks, » he grumbled. « And why specifically in my face? »

It was very slight, but the jōnin could have sworn he’d seen him move his head, just long enough to give him a mischievous smile from behind his mask, his eyes shining, before returning to his contemplation.

Realising he was dealing with an absurd whim, his friend sighed loudly and loosened his grip, not before planting a kiss on the bruises on his hands, on the scarred skin.

« You’re forgiven, » their owner sang.

In response, he pinched his cheek through the fabric, eliciting an indignant sound that made him chuckle.

Ah, blimey, he’d lost his page…

Obito had never been a morning person, which was why he’d been (far) too often late when he was younger.

With years of experience behind him and a bit of discipline, he’d improved for the better, but it was clearly still the thing he liked least (along with child murder).

Through various persuasions, he’d managed to convince Kakashi to laze about in bed on their days off, until they’d had enough.

Settled in their cosy cocoon, surrounded by the pack of ninken, they lounged against each other, waking slowly and without a word, exchanging nonchalant smiles through half-closed eyes, their hands finding each other amidst the sheets to clasp one another, fingers intertwining lightly.

It was a gentle, quiet morning; the sun was already shining outside, where both were resting, with only their daily chores to attend to.

They could take their time; it was perfect.

Still lethargic, Kakashi buried his face against her neck, his breath tickling her sensitive skin.

Smiling at this behaviour, so unlike his usual self, Obito kissed him on the forehead, brushing the strands of hair aside with the tip of his nose, breathing in the warm scent emanating from him with satisfaction.

Behind him, one of the dogs gave him a paw to the head, even in its sleep, but he didn’t care, savouring the moment, lost in their little bubble of calm, between two sleeps.

« You’re an idiot. »

« I’m hurt. Where’s your empathy for the weak? »

« You’re not ‘hurt’, you’ve stupidly drained your chakra because you’re a show-off idiot. »

« Your love overwhelms me, » Kakashi grumbled.

Lying on his hospital bed, he pouted, not at all appreciating the reproaches hurled at him by his companion, yet unable to defend himself without sounding disingenuous.

Obito, for his part, stared at him, arms crossed and glaring at him with a furious look.

The life of a shinobi was dangerous enough without needing to add this sort of pointless stunt!

Although he tried to keep his nerves in check – as much to avoid making a scene as to hide the worry that had been bubbling inside him since he’d been alerted – he couldn’t stop pacing back and forth and glancing over at the figure lying there.

At least he wasn’t dead. Not yet.

Giving up, he slumped into the visitor’s chair beside the bed, sighing loudly.

When he looked at his lover again, the man seemed to curl up, finally looking ashamed of the current situation.

« There you go, you’ve finally realised? » he grumbled.

« Was it funny? » Kakashi ventured.

The dark-eyed man’s glance convinced him to shut his mouth audibly.

« We’re not getting any younger, » he reminded him in an icy voice. « That sort of pointless acrobatics could be your last. »

Clumsily, his partner slipped a hand out from under the covers to take one of his, squeezing it.

« I was scared, » Obito finally admitted, squeezing it back. « We’re lucky, you and I, not to have suffered any major, debilitating injuries yet, but the statistics are clear: few shinobi of our calibre grow old.

He didn’t say ‘die before they’re forty’, but he didn’t need to. They both knew it.

« So what am I supposed to do, then? » sighed the wounded man, wearily.

« Leave the ANBU. Go back to simpler missions. We get our fill of adrenaline, you know! »

He was met with a blank stare, making it clear that his lie hadn’t been believed.

Well, he’d given it a go.

Rubbing his face with the palms of his hands, Obito sighed again, at a loss for ideas.

« It’s just that… I’m scared, Kashi. You spend practically more time here than at home. »

With tears in his eye, he took her hand, avoiding the IV that had been placed there, and clasped his slender fingers in his.

« I just want to grow old with you. By my side, and not in an urn on the family altar, do you understand? »

Between the mask and the eye patch, visible expressions were limited, but they’d known each other for over twenty years; he liked to think he could decipher every flicker of his partner’s eyelashes.

He watched as his partner’s eyes widened in surprise, before softening gently, as if he was finally realising the full extent of Obito’s love for him, that he had no intention of passing it on to anyone else, neither tomorrow nor ever.

« I love you, » he finished. « And I want you by my side. »

He leaned in, kissed the tip of his nose through the paper of the mask, then tucked him in, urging him to sleep, which wasn’t very difficult.

Already, Kakashi was blinking, his eyes clouded, and then there was only Obito, watching over his sleep.

If Kakashi could do it, why couldn’t he?

Weak with fatigue, Obito awkwardly crossed his arms, hindered by the shopping basket, leaning one shoulder against one of the wooden pillars of the covered market.

Beside him, his lover had the arduous task of choosing the vegetables for the week’s meals, and it was a scene repeated a thousand times over.

When he felt him turn towards him, he didn’t even open his eyes.

« No, Kashi, there’s more to life than aubergines. Put them back. »

Hearing him grumble, he smiled. He knew him all too well, which was a pity for him.

Sleep was right there, stretching out its little arms to reach him but remaining just out of reach nonetheless.

It was frustrating. How did that tall beanpole manage to sleep standing up?

« Put it back, » he muttered.

More grumbling.

He could understand his partner’s enthusiasm for this fruit, but that didn’t mean he fancied living on nothing but that for the next seven days, thank you very much!

« Are you trying to blend in with the architecture, senpai? »

« Not your senpai, » he muttered with difficulty.

He fought against his eyelid, more out of politeness than anything else, as he had recognised Tenzō, greeting him wearily.

They watched Kakashi face the most agonising weekly choice of his life, without emotion, before turning their attention back to each other.

« But don’t you have a vegetable patch? »

« Not enough yet to feed the two of us, » he yawned. « And besides, we’ve got to keep the local economy going. »

They exchanged a few pleasantries before Kakashi returned with the fruits of his labour – or rather, his vegetables – looking dejected.

Obito took the bags, quickly checking their contents, though his companion’s current expression was enough to confirm that he’d finally come to terms with it.

« You’ll see, Tenzō, I’ll turn you into a proper adult! » he exclaimed, patting the lad on the shoulder.

The latter crossed his arms, sulking. It was their junior who deserved to be teased, not him, thank you very much!

When their eyes met, Obito couldn’t help but smile, then leaned in to kiss him on the jawline, through the fabric of his mask, which seemed to please him, judging by the lighter atmosphere.

And, of course, Kakashi decided to use this burst of energy to tease his subordinate, making him regret it.

Hopeless.

« What do you think of me? »

« Still in the way, alas. »

His comment earned Kakashi a kick in the shin, forcing him to tear himself away from his unpleasant reading and discover Obito with his Sharingan active and a furrowed brow, a hard expression on his face.

But, even more so, in a very beautiful and very simple Tsumegi kimono bearing the Hatake kamon.

« Have you been hiding this surprise from me for a long time? »

Softened by this lovely surprise, Kakashi grabbed him by the sleeves, pulling at the fabric to admire the effect, both of how magnificent his pack mate looked in traditional outfit and of the silver embroidery.

Blushing under the attention, Obito wanted to scratch the back of his neck but could only grab the edge of his sleeve, twisting it between his fingers, looking away.

« It’s nothing, » he muttered. « No need to make a big deal of it. »

But it would take more than that to convince him otherwise.

As clan leader – reduced to a mere shadow of his former self – and thanks to Obito’s gift of his Sharingan, Kakashi had been trained by the Uchiha, who had left no stone unturned.

From their clan’s perspective, they had been married in the darkness of a landslide, under the protective chakra of their friend, thanks to that gift.

Consequently, Obito was no longer officially an Uchiha, but given their respective ages and his ignorance of the symbolism behind the gesture, Fugaku had allowed him to present himself as a member of the clan, outside of official ceremonies, until such time as the couple decided to reveal their union or renew their vows.

The sight of this kamon stirred possessive instincts in Kakashi, surprising him, though not as much as the sight itself, and even less so than the implied message.

« Who should I tell? The Hokage or the Shinto priest? » he asked in a teasing tone.

« The undertakers if we’re late. Aunt Mikoto won’t let us off the hook. »

He tried to dodge him, but Kakashi clearly had no intention of letting him go, fixing him with that affectionate gaze that always turned him inside out.

« Move, » he muttered.

But instead of obeying him, his husband let go of one of his hands and, taking hold of the other, guided it into the crook of his elbow, all without taking his eyes off his face for a single moment.

Gently bending his elbow to draw him closer, he covered his hand with his other, then stepped forward, inviting him to follow him thus, escorting him through the streets, his back, sleeves and collar displaying the clan crest to anyone who passed them.

It wouldn’t take long for the rumours to spread throughout the capital…

His heart swelling with all the affection he felt for Obito and his decision, Kakashi stopped them before they entered the meeting room.

He pinched the edge of his mask, pushing it back just enough to reveal his lips, and straightened up, pressing them against his husband’s eyelid, before quickly covering himself again.

Overjoyed by this gesture, Obito followed him with the widest smile imaginable, unable to deactivate his Sharingan for the next few minutes, much to the amusement of some.

With his hands in the soil, Obito was tending to his tomato plants with care.

He’d weeded earlier; now he was scrutinising every plant in his vegetable patch attentively, under the half-exasperated, half-amused gaze of Kakashi, who was watching him from the engawa, cradling his cup of tea.

« I’m going to be jealous! » he exclaimed.

« Mind your own aubergines, » replied the budding gardener.

They chuckled at their own silliness and returned to their previous tasks, allowing silence to settle between them once more, though Obito couldn’t help but hum, simply content.

As he had explained to Tenzō, they weren’t yet self-sufficient – particularly given Kakashi’s appetite for meat, his teeth grinding everything down mercilessly – but that was his goal, so he worked at it diligently, cherishing every leaf and every stem, encouraging them to grow ever taller.

When he had finished and returned to the shade, dirt still caked on his trousers and hands, he hadn’t lost his beaming smile; he sat down beside his companion, rested his head on his shoulder and snatched his cup, sipping the contents.

Yuck, the tea was cold.

« Well, you’re making yourself at home, I see, » Kakashi remarked.

« It’s because you’re comfortable, » he purred.

He merely rolled his eyes at the reply and set about retrieving his property.

But it was a lost cause, so he settled for a dirty hand, which he grasped with both of his own.

Obito let go of it without a care, gazing instead at the garden and the fruit of his labour.

Still just vegetables, though.

He turned when he felt a light, hurried kiss on the back of his hand.

« You’re going to make me sick, » he warned.

« I’m just kissing our breadwinner. »

Beneath the silver strands, he caught the seductive glance and felt himself blushing in response.

« You’re ridiculous, » he muttered. « Go and kiss the vegetable patch, then. »

« Mmh, I’d be happy to, but it’s less attractive than you. And you’re just going to say I’m weird again. »

« You are weird, and you know it perfectly well. And I told you to stop! »

Kakashi had continued kissing the damaged, earth-covered hands throughout their conversation, paying little heed to his husband’s objections.

He knew he was only protesting for form’s sake; he was perfectly capable of pushing him away if necessary.

So he continued.

Being a jōnin meant being able to go on missions alone, but that didn’t mean it was the norm.

In theory, Obito had prepared his team well, recruiting the shinobi best suited to the objective.

But no plan was foolproof and, despite themselves, they soon found themselves outnumbered and suffering casualties.

As an Uchiha and a user of the Mangekyō Sharingan, he possessed considerable reserves of chakra, but he remained, above all, human, as well as the captain of his team. He therefore had to order a retreat before the situation worsened.

And so it was that they found themselves holed up in caves, much to his chagrin, tending to their wounds and taking stock of their supplies.

As things stood, their opponents might just as easily lay siege to them as turn back, so the order of the day was to take no initiative and wait for reinforcements.

In the semi-darkness, Obito did his best to keep his mind occupied, flitting from one task to another, both blessed and cursed by the futility of sleep, under the watchful eyes of his team.

But it wasn’t as if he could share with them his latent claustrophobia and the weeks of agony spent being tortured by his ancestor and his mignon.

It was only in his husband’s arms that he managed to surrender to sleep, not because his presence pushed the memories far away, but because he was the only one who could reassure and comfort him every time he woke.

Thinking of it made him tense, clenching his jaw.

He missed Kakashi, beyond the phobia he was trying to suppress, and he focused his thoughts on him despite the rising anxiety, for it would allow him to remain steady despite everything.

When chakra suddenly surged through the tunnels, everyone went on guard, weapons drawn, ready to fight even if it meant facing death.

But the tension eased very quickly when the village’s characteristic porcelain animal masks appeared, and once again the codes were exchanged.

The bloodstains on some of the outfits confirmed that they had indeed been under siege, whilst the elite shinobi stepped forward into their midst to get an overview.

But Obito paid no heed to this, focused solely on the dog-masked ANBU who had spotted him and was approaching.

He barely had time to drop to one knee and open his arms before the former Uchiha rushed to embrace him, sobbing.

Beneath his masks, the man smiled, moved, before returning the embrace, stroking his hair with his gloved hands.

« Crybaby, » he sighed.

« Shut up, » sniffed the man in question.

Kakashi couldn’t remove his mask whilst on duty, and they were attracting too much attention, so Obito hastily dried his tears before pressing his lips against the protective vest, burying his face in it.

Everything would be all right from now on. They were saved.

Due to their affinity with Katon, members of the Uchiha clan had a high body temperature, a fact Kakashi happily took advantage of whenever the situation allowed.

He often felt the cold, especially when not on missions, so having his own walking source of warmth was a luxury he had no intention of ignoring.

Like here, as he sat against Obito’s chest, watching Konoha in the sunset.

Once a month, they would settle on the First Hokage’s skull to have dinner. He had no particular business there; it was simply for the pleasure of spending time together, outdoors admiring the sunset.

Obito would suggest bringing blankets every time, which Kakashi would always refuse, insisting he wouldn’t get cold. And, without fail, he would curl up against him, his eyes fixed on the shifting colours of the sky.

It was sweet.

He kept offering him blankets, and Obito kept refusing them, but it had become a game between them, a habit.

A silent plea to be cuddled.

Amused by his husband’s antics, he kissed him on the shoulder, smiling against the cool skin as he felt the response in his neck.

« Fancy getting up to some mischief on your ancestor’s skull? »

« We have an ancestor in common, » grumbled the man in question. « A subtle difference. »

« You didn’t say no. »

From his hips, his hands slid to his fly, ready to unzip it at the first syllable of permission.

« I didn’t say no, » Kakashi conceded.

Narrowing his eyes to make sure he’d understood the implication, he couldn’t help but smile broadly when he spotted the blush on the mask, which didn’t go down well with his mortified partner, who smacked him on the head in retaliation.

No matter, he’d know how to make up for it. And forgive.

As well as their monthly picnic, there was another occasion, every month, that they never missed.

The day spent looking after the ninken.

Sometimes, it came before the picnic.

It was simply the day decided by the little pack when it would invariably be called upon, and not for work.

A day spent strengthening their bond through games and naps, but also baths and, occasionally, the annual trip to the vet.

With an extra pair of hands, Kakashi had been able to appreciate this breather in his daily routine all the more, especially when it came to washing Bull.

By the end of the day, the two humans were often filthy, out of breath and aching from laughing so much, whilst the pack of dogs smelled of shampoo, had been carefully brushed, their claws trimmed, their energy well spent.

The house and garden had been turned upside down by their chases, games, and attempts to escape the inevitable bath, promising many hours of extra work for the couple.

But for now, he had flopped down outside, surrounded and covered by the eight fur balls, in a big pile of outdoor cuddles.

« I can’t feel my back, » moaned Obito.

« You’re such a wimp, » his husband sneered.

It was only out of habit that he fared better than him, but he fully intended to make the most of it.

Reaching out blindly, he grabbed him by the calf, pulling him towards him to kiss the instep, narrowly dodging the reflexive blow.

« My mouth’s on this side! » he grumbled, waving his hand in the air.

« I’ll make do with that. »

Unbeknownst to his pack mate, he had shifted slightly. Enough, at any rate, for the attack to graze him.

« Cheater, » Obito grumbled.

Around them, the dogs barely reacted, sleeping the sleep of the righteous, occasionally opening an eye to judge them, like slightly daft puppies.

When he was younger, Kakashi had taken offence at this, sensitive to this tendency to be infantilised by human society.

Now?

He liked that his pack, his family, saw him as an impetuous puppy, especially when he threw himself at Obito amidst them, both of them laughing at their own foolishness, until he leaned in to kiss his husband on the cheek, at first, as if tasting him.

Then he pressed his lips against Obito’s, caressing the back of his neck, amused by the jōnin‘s sudden paralysis.

« It’s not our first kiss, though, » he teased.

« Shut up. »

Obito tried to turn away, his face redder than ever, attempting to frown to break the soft expression that the surprise kiss had brought to his face.

But Kakashi had no intention of letting him get away with it, and sank the tips of his teeth into the tender flesh of his ear, drawing a yelp from him.

Facing him again, his husband looked at him in confusion, his ears turning pink.

Sitting boldly on his hips, he wrapped his arms around his neck, his hands resting on his muscular shoulders, towering over him by a head’s length, examining him with his grey eye, as if searching for a sign, a clue, anything…

His lover looked at him without understanding, his hands on his hips. He enjoyed the position, the closeness, but the atmosphere had changed, becoming almost heavy, and he held his breath, fearful and on the alert.

Kakashi smiled lazily, savouring the moment, before leaning in again, opening a mouth of sharp fangs to ravish the softer, more compliant one, his hungry tongue sliding over those rounded teeth, seizing its counterpart to wrap itself around it, protecting it from danger as best it could.

But it was already too late, blood slowly staining the saliva, the fragile skin of the lips having yielded to the assault.

But Obito forbade him to pull back, his hands buried in the silver hair, moaning as he cautiously licked those sharp teeth, urging their tongues on to more, always more.

As if he wanted to devour them. To devour him.

Which his husband would grant him without a second thought.

Just a broad, toothy grin.