Ship: Kakashi Hatake x Obito Uchiha

Genres: Romance – Humor – Slice of Life / One-shot

Rating: +8

Summary: It’s warm, the weather’s lovely… Obito just wanted to relax. With Kakashi, if possible.

Enjoy!

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The sky was slowly turning a myriad of shades of red. A light breeze had – at last – picked up, gently cooling the air.

Obito sighed contentedly as he allowed himself to tug slightly at his uniform.

They were all free to customise it as they saw fit, as long as they still wore the hitai-ate, and most simply added the shock-absorbing vest to the outfit they’d been wearing since their first mission as genin.

Apart from the Uchiha clan’s characteristic indigo colour and that bloody high collar – which he’d managed to swap for a simple roll-neck – he’d got into the habit of covering every single centimetre of his skin. Not so much for protection against the elements or potential attacks, but to hide the scars that marred the right side of his body.

Of course, the medical staff kept telling him they were fine, healthy scars, but all he could see was half his face, marked forever.

He also covered the entire left side of his face because of his empty eye socket, uncomfortable at the thought of letting anyone see the smooth skin beneath it. They might compare. Ask questions.

Deep down, he wasn’t really sure.

But it didn’t bother Kakashi, so what did it matter? He himself had been wearing a mask covering him from his nose to his chin for as long as he’d known him (before that, it had been a green scarf with black patterns. He thought he’d seen it somewhere recently…), not to mention his hitai-ate, which he wore askew to protect the Sharingan that had been entrusted to him when he was on the brink of death.

It was a bit of a shame, then, that they both ended up with the same blind spot, but it made their friends smile – the same friends who’d teased them at length when they’d given them permission to wear them.

Whistling cheerfully at the memory, the jōnin took off his gloves, stuffing them into one of his waistcoat pockets, zipping it up before flapping the flaps about, creating a pleasant little draught.

Thanks to his genetic heritage, he wasn’t too bothered by the heat, but sweat had never needed an invitation to soak into his clothes.

So it was looking slightly dishevelled that he arrived at one of Konoha’s gates, greeting the guards on duty with a good-natured wave.

The rest was simply a routine he’d performed a thousand times over, and he was finally able to return to the Hatake residence, where he took off his dirty clothes and began his post-mission routine with as much satisfaction at what it signified – he was back, it was over – as he did grumbling – it was a right pain, okay?

The wind hadn’t let up, the faint tinkling of the aerial chimes accompanying him all the way, but he only really enjoyed it once he was immersed in the bath, up to his eyebrows.

He’d always wanted some, so when he and Kakashi had made their relationship official – after months of playing the mysterious types, because it was fun – he’d invited him to renovate the old Hatake estate and then move in. And so he’d been able to put up as many of those little glass trinkets as he liked.

For a moment, he’d feared it might hurt his lover’s keen sense of hearing, but his lover had reassured him on the matter: on the contrary, that little tune helped him stay grounded in reality when he was losing his footing. So it was a small price to pay, wasn’t it?

Obito had realised that he, too, resorted to this trick, especially during nightmares, the chimes taking the place of the image of their home on more than one occasion.

“Are you trying to grow gills?”

Caught up in his thoughts, he could only admire his companion as he joined him in the bath, his uniform also stuffed into the laundry basket.

It would soon be time to do the washing… But not tonight.

Tonight, instead, he was going to make room for Kakashi, the two of them leaning against each other, their wet hair mingling in strands of silver and black.

An exhausted sigh escaped the lips of the latecomer as he sank a little deeper beneath the cool surface.

“Tough mission?”

“If Minato gives me another one like that, I’m deserting,” he threatened into the air.

Who would have thought that the spiteful, sharp-tongued little lad would grow up to be such a whinger?

No one, but it gave the former Team Seven a good laugh, especially as they were the main witnesses to this let-down in his usual demeanour, which he reserved solely for their private moments.

But the fact that he couldn’t open up any further about the details of those missions didn’t help, of course. So Obito simply slipped an arm round his shoulders, pulling him close.

They stayed like that, relaxing, cooling their bodies heated by the summer temperatures, the silence broken only by the crystalline chimes.

They were home. They were together. They were alive.

And they were going to fall asleep in the bath, things being as they were.

With wrinkled skin and blue-tinged fingertips, they wriggled their way out, giggling like children, and changed into their jinbei with relish.

Without further ado, Kakashi lay down on the engawa, savouring the scent of the wood that brought back so many childhood memories, but above all that never-ending breeze, cooling the forgotten drops of water—and his skin—as it passed.

More reserved this time, his companion sat quietly beside him, his gaze wandering over the vast, sun-scorched expanse of the clan’s lands.

Let’s hope autumn will be more merciful than summer has been so far, for nature’s sake!

Beside him, Kakashi was valiantly fighting off the urge to doze off; his instincts had been subsiding one by one ever since he’d crossed the boundary, and even more so now that he’d been able to see his partner again and hold him close.

At times like these, a fleeting thought would cross his mind about his father. How had he managed to carry on all those years after his mother’s death, without losing his mind?

A shiver ran through him, though he hoped he’d never have to find out for himself. His fiancé was a first-rate idiot, he’d admit, but he was his. There was a good chance he’d go and fight death himself to snatch him from its clutches when the time came.

The soft ‘ding ding’ snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned his attention instead to the pensive profile of the object of his thoughts, smiling at the blushing rays of the sun caressing his skin, gliding over the raised scars running along his cheek and nose.

He’d been so scared that time… It wasn’t his first mission, but it had clearly been the first time he’d felt ready to do anything to ensure a teammate survived—and even more so when that idiot had made his condition worse by asking Rin to graft his remaining eye onto him!

What an idiot…

But it was his, once again.

Reaching out towards him, he pinched the fabric of his garment and tugged gently at it, catching his attention.

With a neutral expression, he watched as a smile warmed his face in his direction, before he leaned towards him, pressing his lips against his forehead.

Sunny days were the worst for those who, like them, hid their faces for various reasons. Firstly, because of the heat and the potential difficulty in breathing, depending on the devices.

Then, the key factor not to be forgotten: the ridicule. The patchy tan.

With his scars, Obito had what looked like pale streaks dotting his tanned skin, the contrast becoming more pronounced as he gradually tanned.

Kakashi, for his part, hardly dared to use the Sharingan at this time of year, let alone lower his mask because of the patchwork his face seemed to display.

The lower half, covered by a mask from his throat to his nose, never saw the sun, with a few rare exceptions, and was therefore pale, his mole standing out more than anything else.

Then there was the part beneath his hitai-ate, which he would occasionally lift, or even remove when he was at home, and which therefore had a slight golden tan.

And, finally, the part that was always exposed, which was consequently the darkest of the three.

The result was… dramatically comical.

It had been the cause of numerous arguments after he’d left ANBU; the full-face mask had spared him that trouble during the early years of their relationship.

But now, even though the sight was still just as amusing and Kakashi still managed to give himself a fright on the rare occasions he caught his reflection, it was hardly worth mentioning.

“We could spend the night here…” suggested Obito.

He wriggled to lie down as comfortably as possible, their fingers intertwining.

“Too many mosquitoes.”

Unfortunately for his companion, the transplant of cells from the Shodaime seemed to have repelled all human parasites, from leeches to mosquitoes. And, as the years went by, he was gradually forgetting the discomfort caused by these creatures.

“What do you suggest, then?”

The hand in his squeezed it gently.

“Let’s stay here until sunset, then go back for dinner.”

“The cupboards are empty. We’ve both just returned from long-term missions.”

A brief silence fell, before Obito almost jumped, realising that his companion had no intention of pressing the matter.

“We’re not going to eat military rations pills or any other survival rations!” he warned in his most menacing voice.

“Very well.”

Sensing a trap, Obito frowned, scrutinising his partner, who remained completely relaxed under his gaze, only reinforcing his suspicion.

“And no dog food either.”

At these words, Kakashi opened his eyes and frowned, disappointed.

“You didn’t really think I wouldn’t realise, did you?”

Given the sulky pout he was starting to wear, yes, he’d certainly been counting on it.

“We went to school together, Kashi. The whole academy knew there was a weird little genius who nibbled on dog treats. You made our entire year group try them. And your ANBU too!”

Mikoto had, in fact, given him a good telling-off when she realised that her beloved Itachi had tasted one of those abominations. He’d been very close to retorting that it wasn’t the worst thing his son had ever put in his mouth, but then he’d remembered that his aunt had herself been an ANBU captain before becoming a mother, and so he’d opted for a strategic retreat.

The couple stared at each other, challenging one another to be the first to make the slightest move; whoever did so would be the big loser and would then have to sort out a solution for dinner.

Meanwhile, the chimes in the sky continued their little joyful dances, the celestial music seeming to mock them.