Chapter Text
No one had ever had to tell Kakashi that getting the hat would be the single most excruciating mission of his life. He’d known, very early on, through observation alone: Minato-sensei had languished beneath the responsibilities. Balance had seemed impossible; his duties to the village and country had outweighed his commitments at home so often that Kakashi, at the ripe old age of fourteen, had decided right then and there that if the title of Hokage was ever offered to him, he’d decline.
A decade and a half later, give or take a few years, and he’d learned that “offer” really had been the operative word. The hat wasn’t offered to him so much as foisted upon his head with a pat on his shoulder and a, “Good luck, brat!” from Tsunade-sama.
It’s ugly, too.
Petty of him, sure, but no matter how many times Iruka tries to convince him that he wears it well, the fact of the matter is that Kakashi has eyes. Two of them now, and both his own, thanks to Naruto. So he can see the truth in the mirror and in that hideous portrait that hangs in his office alongside the other leaders spanning their village’s storied history.
Even the Nidaime wore it better, their shared ancestors clearly notwithstanding.
So, Kakashi wears it. When he must. Otherwise, he’s content to keep things simple with his newly designed flak jacket. (Though, he won’t lie: he really misses the bulk of the pockets from their previous iteration.)
When Kakashi tunes back into the meeting occurring in front of his desk, he can’t help but wish that Naruto could finish up his studying sooner rather than later.
“—blatantly trampling upon my family heritage, which is insulting at best and outrageous at worst,” the old man concludes, arms crossed and face red. He huffs and harumphs, but stops just short of stomping his foot.
Go on, Kakashi thinks, do it.
Shikamaru chimes in from Kakashi’s left. “Gomimaru-san,” he says evenly, “No disrespect is intended. We’re quite aware that your landfills have kept Konohagakure’s streets clean and its citizens healthy. That’s why the Hokage has proposed—”
“I’d rather hear it from him, boy—”
Kakashi clears his throat, letting just a bit of killing intent leak out. He’d never said he was too good for a little intimidation. “I’m happy to reduce the offer by a million ryō,” he says, “but the fact of the matter is that if we don’t cap the landfill and convert it into usable space, then the citizens paying to live in the surrounding area will sue you. That’s practically a guarantee. Is that more comfortable for you?”
Gomimaru blanches. “I—I—”
Kakashi smiles with his eyes, but nothing else. “I’d recommend taking the offer now,” he says. “We’ll assist with the relocation fees and hire laborers to clear the space for a new landfill. That seems more than fair, doesn’t it?”
Shikamaru coughs lightly, and Kakashi gets the distinct impression of laughter from the ANBU standing guard behind him.
“Y-yes. Thank you, Hokage-sama,” Gomimaru says, bowing immediately at a forty-five-degree angle.
“Shikamaru,” Kakashi says, “Please assist Gomimaru-san with the rest of the paperwork.”
“Sure, Hokage-sama,” Shikamaru drones.
Kakashi sighs, not bothering to correct him. Though he’d prefer to just be called by name alone, he’d promised Iruka that he wouldn’t do it in front of civilians anymore. He has an image to uphold. Supposedly.
After the door closes, Kakashi scrawls a check next to the time slot on his agenda for the day. His next hour is supposed to be spent on paperwork. Instead, Kakashi spins his desk chair around, looking longingly out the window, and says, “Tell me the truth, Sparrow—do I look like a mushroom right now?”
Sparrow gives no quarter, but Hare’s a little slow to stifle a snort.
Grinning to himself, Kakashi removes the hat and feels his hair fluff back into its natural spikes almost immediately. He runs a gloved hand through it, helping along the process, then hangs the hat on its hook. Soon, the robe joins it, and Kakashi stretches, already feeling more himself.
Rather than give voice to his plan, Kakashi wastes little time in jumping out of the window and sprinting along the rooftop tiles, knowing that his Sparrow and Hare will soon follow—even if he loses them for the time being.
Perhaps he could’ve left a clone in the office, foisted the hat and the robes onto it and everything, but he’s used that trick before, and Shikamaru will just use it as an excuse to take a nap. (Although…maybe he’s earned it since Kakashi just made him deal with that cranky old man.)
So, absconding away it is.
The breeze feels warm, amazing on his cheeks and in his hair.
Finding a good drop point isn’t so difficult. Kakashi makes it down to ground level and sticks to the shadows. Threading through the alleys is child’s play, and Kakashi knows the perfect route that spits him out close to one of the village’s parks.
Although…maybe it’s more of a ‘city’ now, Kakashi thinks fondly as he looks around.
Things have changed since Tsunade had foisted the hat onto his head. He’s changed. Grown, he thinks. Improved a bit, even if he’d regressed for a while, too. But now he’s used to his life without the Sharingan, used to hearing the Clan heads’ woes, used to pretending to listen to the Council, used to a staggering lack of privacy and solitude.
The in-between moments are sparse, but Kakashi uses them to his full advantage. Years of observation have given way to innovative ideas and pipedreams that he’s finally able to plot out with a bit more realism. And slowly, over time, he’s learning the best ways to work with the Clan heads and Council to convince them that his ideas have merit.
That’s due, in no small part, to Iruka’s influence.
Beneath his mask, Kakashi’s lips quirk unbidden. He slips into the boughs of a high tree, one that overlooks the Naka River but still has a decent view of the Admin complex. (Because, sure, he might be a bit irresponsible, but he’s not an idiot; if there’s an emergency, he’ll still be able to act quickly.)
With his hands pillowing the back of his head, Kakashi watches the clouds through the dappled sunlight and lets his mind continue its slow, meandering drift.
As the sun moves across the sky, Kakashi dozes while sifting through all of the problems that have come across his desk in the span of the last twenty-four hours. There’d been that land dispute for the expansion project—thankfully checked off the list now. Still left to deal with, though, are securing a new trade deal with Iwagakure for construction materials and deciding what to do with Sasuke’s most recent report about some cultists he’s uncovered.
Sakura has been hard at work with Tsunade-sama on the hospital training program, but maybe she could use a break…Naruto certainly would appreciate one. And…maybe if Kakashi sends him as a delegate for the Iwagakure deal to soften up the Tsuchikage, then that’ll be two birds with one stone.
Knowing him, he’ll probably consider it a date, and Sakura will launch him into the stratosphere with a punch, and they’ll both get that gooey look in their eyes when they finally meet up with Sasuke.
If Sai weren’t busy learning the ropes from Tenzō, he’d send him, too. Just to mediate. (And maybe to get under Sasuke’s skin, just a little bit. The kid could use it.)
Kakashi grins to himself, soft and absent, thinking about his team. Family, essentially.
Which, ultimately, tugs his thoughts right back to Iruka.
His blood heats as he recalls their early morning romp in snapshots—hands twisted in sheets, the long line of a sweat-dappled throat, furrowed brows, spit-shiny lips parted with a moan—and keenly misses him. They’ve both been so busy that their moments together are fewer and farther between than ever, and Kakashi can hardly stand it. He aches with it.
Not even two seconds later, as if summoned by his thoughts alone, he feels the angry pulse of Iruka’s chakra bloom from the direction of his office.
Under his breath, Kakashi dreamily sighs, “Time’s up.”
As he drops down from the tree, he’s flanked by his ANBU guards. Only then does he stop concealing his chakra.
“You’re improving,” he comments. “That was a whole five minutes faster than last time.”
“Hokage-sama,” Hare complains.
Sparrow remains silent, but radiates shame.
“Go on ahead,” he instructs them as the Hokage Tower comes into view. “I’m going to have a quick meeting with Iruka-sensei, then we’ll rendezvous with Cat and Owl in my office.”
They pause for a beat, but Kakashi makes a shooing motion, and eventually they capitulate, blurring out of sight before reappearing on the rooftop above. He’s hard-pressed not to skip the rest of the way to the building, opting to play it cool and unaffected despite the way his heart thunders at the prospect of seeing Iruka during business hours. Maybe a little bit in fear, too.
Refreshed, Kakashi pushes open the door and heads straight for the stairwell, already attuned to familiar stomping and muffled muttering.
Luckily, he’s able to school his expression into neutrality before he climbs the first set of stairs, rounds the landing, and sees Iruka.
“You,” Iruka seethes, marching down the steps with purpose just as Kakashi crests the last step. They meet on the landing, shoulders parallel, orbiting each other in that unconscious way they’ve always done. “Where the hell have you been?!”
Kakashi opens his mouth to tease and distract, but Iruka lifts a hand to head him off.
“Dereliction of duty,” Iruka accuses, poking a finger into the center of Kakashi’s chest. “If Shikamaru hadn’t been there, telling me that you’d return any minute—”
“It still would’ve been fine,” Kakashi assures him, a hand drifting to the dip of Iruka’s waist. “ANBU have been following me since I dropped out of my tree; don’t worry.”
Iruka’s mouth screws to the side in a pout, popping one of his dimples.
He’s never been more beautiful.
“I’m still mad at you,” he says. He shifts his load of scrolls and nudges a bit closer, holding them as he reaches out to grasp Kakashi’s shoulder. “I came by at the beginning of my lunch hour because I had stuff for you to sign, but you weren’t there.”
Guilt turns Kakashi’s stomach. Iruka looks so hurt.
In the span of a split second lost in Iruka’s eyes, Kakashi’s mind whirls with a sudden, intense urge: ask him, ask him, ask him.
“I wanted to spend it with you,” Iruka says, and—
That’s the final nail in the coffin.
“I have a solution for that, actually,” Kakashi says, squeezing inadvertently at Iruka’s side. He crests a thumb over the notch of a rib. “It’s…part of why I wanted some time away from the office. To have a minute to think.”
Dubious, Iruka raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh,” he says. “I’m sure.” There’s a flicker in the corner of his mouth, like he wants to smile, but won’t. “And what, pray tell, could magically turn back the clock and give us more time together?”
Kakashi huffs a laugh, bumping his forehead into Iruka’s. “Space-time jutsu isn’t my specialty,” he admits, “but I was thinking something more…future-facing.”
A sparkle surfaces in Iruka’s eye. “Like?”
Swallowing, Kakashi weighs the pros and cons of blurting it out now versus saving it for a special occasion and thinks, fuck it. “Like…do you want to move in together? Officially.”
Iruka’s eyes immediately widen.
Squeezing at Kakashi’s shoulder, his gaze shifting from one of Kakashi’s eyes to the other and back again, searching for something. He must find it, because the smile that begins to bloom across his expression is just as beautiful as the righteous anger that the hurt had replaced. Eyes darting to Kakashi’s lips, Iruka seemingly forgets where they are, forgets he has an armful of scrolls, forgets that he’s supposed to be mad.
He kisses Kakashi through his mask, a heated promise and an affirmation.
“Yours or mine?” Iruka asks after he pulls back. “Or, I guess, do we have to move into the Hokage quarters? I don’t know how this is supposed to work. Is that what you needed time to think about?”
Kakashi grins, dizzy and bright. “I don’t care where,” he confesses, “I just want to be there when you wake up.” He nuzzles his nose against Iruka’s, delighted by the little giggle that ekes out of him. “Wanna spend every evening I can with you.” His voice pitches lower as he says, “And I want to be the one to put you to sleep every night.”
Iruka hums a low noise. “And just how do you plan on doing that?”
Kakashi’s hand begins to drift down to the perky curve of Iruka’s ass as he opens his mouth to answer, but—the tension under his hands isn’t good. Iruka’s blushing, but no longer smiling as his gaze slips over the top of Kakashi’s shoulder.
He turns to look too.
Tenzō stands at the threshold of the stairwell, almond-shaped eyes wide and unblinking. As Kakashi stares, the other door opens, and Sai stands at the top of the stairwell, taking in the scene before him with a hand on his cocked hip and a faint smile on his lips. It almost looks genuine.
Idly, Kakashi wonders when shinobi had stopped taking windows and rooftops by default.
Sighing, Tenzō climbs the stairs, slow and even, not saying a word as he bypasses them. It’s not until he reaches the top of the landing that Tenzō finally says, “I’ll be waiting in your office, Hokage-sama,” and the bubble breaks. The door slams shut, leaving Kakashi and Iruka alone once again.
Iruka snickers just as Kakashi huffs a laugh, bumping their foreheads together so that their hitai-ate clink. “You were saying…”
“Maa, sensei,” feigning scandalized, “It’s still business hours.”
Rolling his eyes, Iruka leans forward and nips Kakashi’s lip through his mask, aim unerring. He shoves the scrolls into Kakashi’s chest and says, “What can I say…you’ve rubbed off on me.” A dimple pops in his cheek as he grins at Kakashi over his shoulder and heads down the stairs. “I’ll see you at mine tonight, Hokage-sama, so we can talk more about your proposal. And don’t forget to send someone with those scrolls before closing, okay? Signed!”
“Anything for you, sensei,” Kakashi calls, all but swooning.
Iruka had said ‘rubbed off on me’ and ‘proposal’ all in the space of a minute, and—well, now Kakashi really has something to think about.