Chapter Text
Sunlight filters in through the windows of Kakashi’s living room as you flit back and forth, picking up clutter and straightening things as you go. When he’d left for work that morning, he’d told you he’d be bringing home groceries to make dinner, and you wanted to make the house as clean as possible for him as a thank you.
You were still filled with energy after spending the previous day hanging out with him and his students. At lunch, they had been so welcoming, and when you got home later that evening, Kakashi had pulled you into an embrace as soon as the two of you stepped through the door.
“They like you,” he’d murmured into your ear. “I like you.”
You’d flushed with happiness, raw and pure as honey.
You’re in the process of straightening the books on the mantle when a knock on the door startles you. Glancing down at your outfit, a pair of Kakashi’s sweats and a ratty t-shirt, you’re not sure you’re dressed for greeting guests, but when the knock comes again, harder this time, you sigh make your way to the door, sweeping your hair into a ponytail as you go.
When you open the door, your body tenses like a bowstring, and you have to force yourself to keep from slamming it shut again.
Koharu stands on the doorstep, her age-spotted face as sour and wan as ever. Her bun is pinned so tight today that it pulls her hairline taut, giving her a stretched, synthetic appearance.
“What do you want?” you ask, unable to exchange pleasantries. Koharu’s eyes narrow as her face twists into a scowl, and she takes a step forward, pushing past you into Kakashi’s house with a strength unexpected for someone of her advanced age. The entitlement of it makes your blood boil. “I didn’t invite you in.”
She clasps her gnarled hands in front of herself, giving you a disdainful look. “This is not your house. You have no authority to invite me anywhere.” You burn with indignation at this, but you’re still waiting for her to reveal why she’s here, so you remain silent, reclining against the frame in the open doorway.
“What do you want, Koharu?” you repeat. You offer her no honorific and you can tell the slight doesn’t escape her notice, her nostrils flaring with displeasure.
“You know why I’m here,” she says, her voice cold and full of dislike. “I told you that your dalliance with the Hokage was to come to an end, did I not?”
“You did,” you say slowly, crossing your arms over your chest. A battle stance.
Koharu scoffs. “You were seen gallivanting around the village with him and his students making a spectacle of yourself, making people think that the two of you are involved.” She takes a step closer to you, and the rage emanating from her is powerful. “Why have you disregarded my orders?”
You level your gaze with hers, jutting your chin out slightly. “Because I don’t answer to you.”
There’s a dark flash in Koharu’s eyes, one that almost makes you falter, but you hold your ground as she drops her hands, the knobby fingers clenching into fists at her sides.
“You’re a stupid girl,” she spits, and you can’t help but flinch at the acid in her words. “Living outside the village for so long, you have become indifferent to our ways. You reek of disrespect. The fact that you believe yourself to be worthy of the Hokage would be comical if it wasn’t so abhorrently frightening.”
“I don’t believe anything. I’m just trying to live my life.” You step out of the doorway, dismissing Koharu as you walk toward the hallway. “Get out.”
Her hand flies out to grip your elbow, fingers closing around your arm like the steel tines of a pitchfork, and you spin toward her, your eyes widening in surprise.
The look of disgust Koharu gives you chills you to your core.
“Kakashi will marry Fuyuko,” she says, the words trembling with repressed rage. “You will stand in the way of nothing. This village means too much to too many people for you to strut around like a harlot, putting your frivolous desires above safety, above security for our people.” She lets out a high, humorless, laugh, her fingers squeezing your arm even tighter. “Your only saving grace is that you’re unable to reproduce. The last thing this village needs is more vapid, insolent—”
“Koharu.”
The pressure at your elbow subsides as Koharu releases you, her eyes widening as she turns to the doorway. Kakashi stands on the doorstep, a brown grocery bag resting in his arm. A bouquet of flowers peeks out the top, yellow daffodils and baby’s breath. Your heart lurches.
“Kakashi,” Koharu says, an undercurrent of discomfort tinging her words. She clasps her hands again. “I—I was told you were meeting with the delegates from Iwagakure today.”
“They got delayed. We pushed the meeting to tomorrow.” Kakashi’s voice is cold, curt. He steps inside, pulling the bunch of flowers out of the grocery bag and handing them to you. “These are for you.”
You take them, drawing your eyebrows together as you try to catch his eye. He refuses to meet your gaze, setting the grocery bag on the coffee table before turning to Koharu. His eyes are narrowed, just thin steel-colored slits.
“What you’ve said to her is unacceptable,” he says, and your eyes go to his side, where one of his hands has clenched into a fist. “You had no right to come here, especially not after our meeting yesterday. I thought I made my intentions very clear.”
Your stomach flips. It had been Koharu he’d met with yesterday? I ended it early. It wasn’t important. That was what he’d said when you asked about it.
Koharu’s eyes dart between you and Kakashi. “I believe you are acting in… a hasty manner. Your duties to the village should outweigh any personal attachment you may have to this woman.” She clears her throat, gaining confidence. “Soga Matsumura will be willing to overlook the disrespect of you refusing to hear him out yesterday, but his patience is—”
“Get out.” Kakashi’s voice slices through the room like a knife, and Koharu falters, her mouth falling open slightly.
“Lord Sixth,” she stammers, a feeble protest, and Kakashi lifts his head to look her in the eye, his stare penetrating, unforgiving.
“Get out of our house,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And if I ever hear you speak to her in that way again, I promise you I will make you regret it.”
Koharu recoils as if she’s been slapped, her eyes wide as saucers. For a moment it seems that she’s debating a response, but ultimately she says nothing, just holds her head high as she strides toward the door with twin patches of color in her cheeks.
“Wait,” Kakashi says before she steps through the door, and she turns, her mouth a thin line. He nods in your direction, and despite the hardness of his expression, you catch a gleam of something calm in his eyes. “Apologize to her.”
“I—” Koharu stops herself, a look of disbelief etched into her lined face. She looks between you and Kakashi once more, her gaze lingering on you a touch longer than necessary.
For a moment, you think her expression softens, but then she turns her face away and it’s gone.
“I’m sorry,” she says stiffly, facing away from you. “Forgive me.”
You say nothing, and after a few seconds of silence, Koharu takes her leaves, her footsteps echoing along the paved walkway. Kakashi walks to the door and closes it, turning the lock with a resolute click. Afterward he turns to you, his face strangely colorless.
“You called it ‘our house,’” you say dumbly, still clutching the flowers he’d given you. Kakashi rushes to you, collapsing to his knees in front of you as he stares up at you with a look of utter rapture. He wraps his arms around your waist, pressing his face into your stomach.
“Kakashi,” you stutter, dropping a hand into his hair and ruffling it gently. “It’s okay, really. You don’t need to—”
He looks up so suddenly that it startles you, the words dying in your throat as he fixes his steel-grey eyes on yours.
“Marry me.”
The flowers fall to the floor, petals cascading around his kneeling frame. You lift a hand to cover your mouth and he stands, moving his hands to cup your face.
“I’m so in love with you,” he says desperately, his face so close that his nose brushes yours, the fabric of his mask tickling your skin. “You’re the only thing that matters to me. Please.”
Words are failing you. You want nothing more than to say yes, to throw yourself into his arms and cement your place in his life forever, a storybook ending to make all the heartache and struggles worth it. But something is prickling at you under your skin, something that Koharu said nettling you. You need to get it off your chest.
“Kakashi,” you murmur gently, your eyes flicking down to the outline of his lips under his mask. “Koharu was right.”
His entire body stiffens and he pulls away from you, his eyes wide with disbelief as he starts to object, but you place a calming hand on his bicep, shaking your head.
“Not about that. I meant…” You take a deep breath, drawing your eyebrows together anxiously. “I can’t have children, Kakashi. If that’s something you want, I won’t be able to give it to you.”
“I don’t care about that,” he says forcefully, and you sigh, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his chest.
“I know you’re saying that now,” you say in a trembling voice, “but it’s easy to say things and not think about what it actually means. If we get married, you will never have children. I just can’t imagine you being okay with that.” The words catch in your throat at the end, and you let out a squeak of despair. “You… You would be such a wonderful father. And I don’t want to take that from you.”
You chance a glance back up at him, biting your lower lip when you see his eyes have darkened, a hard line creasing his forehead. Suddenly he moves, so quickly your eyes don’t track it, and his arms are around your waist, lifting you into the air. The living room disappears in a flash, your hair whipping around your face, and when your vision comes back you see the walls of his bedroom around you.
He throws you onto the bed unceremoniously and you bounce a little with the force of it, propping yourself up with your elbows as you stare at him. He’s stripping his jacket off slowly, his gaze never leaving you.
“I came to terms with never having children the day you came back to the village.” His jacket falls to the floor and he pulls his undershirt over his head, causing his silver hair to stick up at odd angles. “That was the day I realized you were the only woman who I would ever have touch me for the rest of my life.” He takes a step closer to the bed, his fingers fumbling madly with the zipper of his pants. “And I haven’t had anyone but you since that day. There will never be anyone else. You are the only thing I’ve ever wanted for myself, the thing that makes me selfish. There is no fighting it. You command my existence. Every breath that I take, every cell in my body answers to you.”
When he steps out of his pants, the evidence of that statement becomes intensely visible to you, and you suck in a breath, a warm flush creeping up your neck. He lowers himself onto the bed, his naked body a beacon of warmth. He grips the hem of your t-shirt and slides it up to expose your stomach, your breasts, and he places his large palm over your belly button.
“This is where you carried my child,” he murmurs, and an amalgamation of extreme emotions runs through you. You feel the sting of tears in the corner of your eyes and blink, your vision becoming watery. “This body has taken a part of me and created life, however briefly, and I have never forgotten that. Not for one second.”
He pulls your shirt the rest of the way over your head and descends over your breasts, kissing each of them. His tongue slides out and flicks over your left nipple, warm and wet, before he closes his mouth around it. Your back arches slightly and your stomach presses into his chest, a delicious heat growing in your core. His fingers tugs down the waistband of your sweatpants and you shimmy your hips, sliding them down over your ass so he can pull them off the rest of the way. He pushes your legs apart, lifting his mouth to yours as he situates himself between them, his hard length nudging your slick core. With a grunt, he slides into you, his hips moving gently as he works himself deeper with every thrust.
“I can’t even think when I’m inside you,” he says, the words breathless, almost pained. “If you put your hands around my throat to kill me right now, I wouldn’t be able to stop you. Dying by your hand would be a peaceful death, so long as you were the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes.”
“Kakashi—” There are tears streaming down your cheeks now, hot and runny, and you reach up to cup his face with your hands, kissing him roughly to stop the onslaught of words. When you pull away, you shake your head. “Stop. Please don’t say that, I would never—”
“No. You need to hear it.” He punctuates this with a deep thrust, a low groan leaving his throat as he bottoms out. “Goddamn it. You feel perfect.” He starts moving again, faster this time. “So soft and warm around my cock.”
He brushes your clit with his thumb, sending a spasm through you so sudden and powerful that your entire body clenches, making him gasp.
“Marry me,” he growls, and you look up at him with wide, tearful eyes. Even in the throes of his lovemaking, his face is more serious than you’ve ever seen it. “Be my wife. Take my name, take my house. Take everything of mine. You already have it. You have everything.”
His thumb moves again on your clit in slow, skillful circles and you cry out, the orgasm wracking your body like a sob. He moans, his thrusts becoming jerkier as he loses control.
“Marry me,” he repeats forcefully, slipping his hands around the back of your head to tilt your face toward his. You reach up to brush his jaw with your fingers and when you do, he turns his face, kissing your fingertips gently, worshipfully.
“Okay.” You nod shakily. “I will.”
“Say it,” he says, the words spoken curtly as he drives himself into you again and again. “I want to hear you say it.”
“I—” you shudder, burying your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, breathing in the warm, musky scent of him. “I’ll marry you, Kakashi.”
He reaches his peak then, his breath hissing through his teeth as he spills himself into you. He gathers you against him, squeezing you tightly as his thrusts weaken. When he’s spent, he lifts his face to yours and kisses you, his tongue swiping greedily over your lower lip.
“I love you,” he murmurs, slipping his hands under your back as he eases out of you. He rolls onto his side, cradling you to his chest, and takes one of your hands, twining your fingers through his.
“I love you, too,” you say softly, gazing at your joined hands. His long fingers are strangely graceful, the hands of a painter or a musician. Looking at them something occurs to you, and you wiggle your ring finger. “You have to get me a ring.”
“I… I forgot about that.” His eyes grow wide, and you have to stifle a laugh at how fearful he looks, the words rushing out of him in an apologetic onslaught. “I’m so sorry, of course I’ll get you a ring. We can go buy one right now.” He starts to get up and you shake your head, tugging him back down next to you.
“It doesn’t matter. Stay.” You nestle into him, sighing contentedly. After a moment he relaxes, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
“I’ll get you one tomorrow,” he promises.
“It has to be really big,” you tell him, and he laughs. “I’m serious. The biggest one money can buy, you understand?”
“Of course,” he agrees, nuzzling you. “Only the best for the Sixth Hokage’s Creampie Pri—”
“Shut the fuck up.”
He does.
6 MONTHS LATER
You’ve never had this many people in your house at once.
Champagne glass in hand, your gaze drifts around the room, lingering briefly on each of your invited guests, all dressed in eveningwear. You were impressed at how nice everyone looked. When you and Kakashi had arrived home after your private wedding ceremony earlier that night, you’d actually screamed when Naruto flicked on the lights, jumping out at you with a chaotic yell of something that sounded like ‘surprise’.
“You thought you could get married without us throwing you a party, Kakashi-sensei?” he’d demanded, and you’d looked around to see the living room filled friends, gifts piled precariously tall on the coffee table. “Nice try! This is going to be a major celebration!”
After greeting everyone, Kakashi had pulled you into the bathroom, his eyebrows drawn together anxiously. He still wore the white button-down he’d worn for the ceremony, and you the plain white satin dress.
“Is this okay?” he murmurs, brushing your hair back from your face. “I know you wanted it to be just us.”
And for the actual wedding, you had. Kakashi was the Hokage, and because of that you had to share him with the village, so for your wedding you’d wanted it to be just the two of you, no guests, no fuss. Just two witnesses, Guy and Kurenai, and the officiator, a small, balding man who’d smelled of cheese.
It had been absolutely perfect.
“It’s okay,” you assure him, smiling. “I feel guilty that your students missed out. They deserve to be a part of this.” Standing on your tiptoes, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Let’s go celebrate.”
After the two of you exit the bathroom, you’re ambushed by Naruto once again, his obscenely loud voice drawing the attention of all the guests.
“Gee, Kakashi-sensei, what were you guys doing in the bathroom? Can’t keep your hands off her for one second, can you, you dog!” He whacks Kakashi on the back, ignoring the expression of mortification on his sensei’s face.
You roll your eyes. “We were in there for less than a minute, Naruto.”
“Yeah, well, that sounds like Kakashi-sensei.”
“Naruto!” Sakura snaps, making everyone in the room jump. She storms over, grabbing Naruto by the ear and dragging him away from you and Kakashi. “Are you drunk? Stop being disgusting!”
The party calms down considerably after that, and you’re able to take a seat on the couch, sipping your drink as you watch the people you love mingling in the house you now share with your husband. A smile tugs at your mouth as your gaze falls on Guy and Atsushi, the two of them standing suspiciously close together as they laugh at some joke Shikamaru is telling. Beside them, Pakkun and Shiba are locked in a brutal game of tug-of-war, their increasingly loud growls drawing some onlookers.
The couch gives slightly and you look to your left to see Kurenai sitting down next to you, still wearing the brilliantly red dress she’d worn to your wedding. She wraps her arms around you, pressing a kiss to your cheek and using her thumb to wipe off the resulting smudge of red lipstick.
“I’m so happy for you,” she says quietly, but there’s a glimmer of grief in her eyes that tugs at your heart. You place your hand on her thigh, squeezing gently.
“I miss him too,” you murmur. “I wish he was here for this.”
“He would want to be here.” She smiles at you sadly. “He always said you two would end up together.”
“Well, in that case, I take it back.” You lift your champagne glass to your lips, taking a thoughtful sip. “I would hate to tell that smug bastard he was right.”
Kurenai laughs, shaking her head in a way that makes one of her pinned-up black curls fall loose. “You guys always had such a fucked-up sense of humor.”
“Remember those insane pranks we would play on each other? I’m pretty sure he actually poisoned me at one point.”
She laughs again, then rests her head on your shoulder, staring ahead at nothing in particular.
“I remember,” she says softly, reflectively. “I remember everything.”
The two of you stay like that for a few minutes, neither of you speaking. Your eyes find Kakashi across the room, standing near the kitchen in deep conversation with Sakura. You catch his gaze and his eyes smile at you as he lifts a hand in your direction.
“Incoming,” Kurenai says quietly, drawing your attention away from Kakashi, and when you look at her, she nods at the front door.
Your stomach twists as you see Genma walking toward you dressed in a button-down and slacks, his expression nervous. You can’t help but look back at Kakashi, and when you do, you notice he’s become tense, his hand tightening around his glass as he watches Genma make his way across the room.
It’s okay, you mouth at him, and he nods but doesn’t take his eyes off the man.
“Hey,” Genma says when he reaches you, sliding his hands into his pockets as if he’s unsure what to do with them.
“Hey,” you say back cautiously. “What are you doing here?”
He cocks his head. “Kurenai invited me.”
You turn to Kurenai, raising your eyebrows, and she pointedly looks away, sipping her drink as she gets to her feet.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” she mutters, making a quick departure, and Genma takes a seat next to you on the couch, leaving a generous amount of space.
“I’m here to apologize,” he says quietly, and you lean back against the couch.
“I gathered.” You twirl your drink, watching the bubbly liquid make a tiny whirlpool in the glass. “I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it.”
“Will you ever be?”
“I don’t know.” Your eyes are still on Kakashi, who is no longer listening to Sakura but staring at Genma with a look of open hostility. You figure he’s about ten seconds away from making his way toward you, and you give a small shake of your head, indicating to him that everything is okay. “Did you bring me a gift?”
Genma blinks, taken aback. “What?”
“This is my wedding reception.” You point to the coffee table in front of you, piled high with finely wrapped boxes. “If you brought me a gift, I’ll consider your apology.”
He raises a single eyebrow. “This is Kakashi’s wedding reception too. Shouldn’t it be a gift for him as well?”
“No.”
“Fair.” His lip twitches, and he reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt to take out small aluminum coin. He holds it between two fingers. “This is all I’ve got.”
You take it, smiling when you see the number 3 embossed on it. “You’re sober?”
“Yeah. Trying to stay that way.” He takes the coin back, slipping it back into his pocket. “There’s no excuse for the way I acted. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” You hesitate, then add, “I’m sorry I punched you.”
“I deserved it.” He reaches up to scratch the back of his head. He’s not wearing his bandana and half of his brown hair is swept back into a neat bun. “I deserved worse, probably.”
“Probably,” you agree, and he chuckles. His eyes travel across the room, stopping to linger on Kakashi, who is still glaring at him. He whistles, low and soft.
“He wants to kill me,” he mutters, giving you a sideways glance.
“Not sure I blame him.”
“Fair enough.” He shrugs. “If you ever get tired of him, I’ll be around.”
“Gross.”
He stands, grinning, and slips his hands back into the pockets of his slacks. “I should probably go. You know, before there’s a massacre.”
“Congratulations on your sobriety.”
“Thank you.” He pauses before he goes, then speaks quickly. “He really loves you. More than you probably think is possible. Trust me, I can tell.” He looks down at you, his smile taking on a sad quality. “Congratulations on the wedding. I’m glad that you’re happy. Both of you.”
He makes his way through the crowd, and instead of watching him go, you turn back to Kakashi, who is gazing at you anxiously from across the room.
You stand, brushing the wrinkles from your dress, and walk toward your husband with a smile on your face.
Later that night, once all the guests have departed, Kakashi pins you against the wall of your bedroom, kissing you with lips that taste of sweet wine. You fumble with the knot of his tie, trying unsuccessfully to loosen it, and he pulls away, smirking.
“Need help?” he asks smoothly, and you grunt in annoyance.
“No.” You think you have it for a moment, but you only succeed in making the knot tighter. “Maybe.”
He laughs, lowering you to the floor. He sits down on the foot of the bed and pulls you into his lap, resting his forehead against yours. “Did you have fun?”
“Of course.” Your lips curve up into a smile. “Did you?”
“Always, with you.” He kisses the tip of your nose, his arms loosely cradling your waist. “I was watching you when you were talking to Genma.”
“I know. You were not being discreet.”
“What did he say to you?” Kakashi doesn’t sound angry, just curious, and you brush a shock of hair back from his face, your thumb skimming the high planes of his cheek.
“He was apologizing.”
“For?”
“Everything, I guess.” You pause, then add as an afterthought, “He also told me he’d be around if I get tired of you.”
Kakashi’s eyes flash, and a low rumble leaves his chest. He flips you underneath him so fast it makes you shriek.
“He said what?” he growls, and you laugh, pulling his face against yours to kiss him again, deep and reassuring.
“He was just kidding, Kakashi,” you say when you break apart. He grunts as if he doesn’t believe this, busying himself with shifting your skirt up past your hips.
“He said something else, too,” you say, gasping slightly as his slender fingers brush your heat. He looks at you expectantly, fingers stilling as he waits for you to continue. “He said that you really love me. ‘More than you probably think is possible,’ is actually what his exact words were.”
Kakashi’s expression grows serious, and he removes his hand from between your legs to twine his fingers through yours, flipping the back of his hand toward your face to display the silver wedding band on his ring finger.
“That asshole,” he says, his voice gravel, “is absolutely right about that.”
When he kisses you then, it’s a declaration of ownership, long and wet and loving. You grind yourself against him, feeling the hard length of his pressing into your very center.
“I want you,” you whine softly, and he rolls over onto his back, swinging you around to straddle him. His eyes are wide and transfixed, pupils blown to the point where only the barest gray edge is visible.
“You have me, angel,” he breathes, sitting up so that you’re chest-to-chest, neither one of you able to tear your gaze away from the other. “Forever, I’m yours.”
He closes the distance between you, and his lips on yours is the only sensation you know.
Hours later, tangled together in a nest of sheets, you lie with your head on his chest, tracing the scars that crisscross his skin.
“Kakashi.”
“Yes?”
You tilt your head back to gaze at him, feeling yourself glow at the love you see reflected in his face. You reach up a hand and trace the line of his jaw with your finger, a familiar gesture that makes him smile softly at you.
“Nothing,” you whisper. “I just love you.”
“I love you, too.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head, lips moving as he speaks into your hair. “I also want to fuck you again. Right now.”
You hum in agreement, rolling on top of him until your face is angled just above his, a seductive smile tugging at your lips.
“That can be arranged,” you tell him, and his arms wrap around you, the gentle force of his body the sweetest thing you’ve ever felt.