Work Text:
Tenzō’s finishing his notes when his phone lights up, Kakashi’s number popping up on the screen. He ignores it, not wanting to lose his train of thought — something in Professor Hashirama’s lecture on Leopold’s land ethic has clicked, for once, and he wants to capture that moment of clarity.
By the time he’s done Kakashi has texted him three more times.
hey
meet me at espresso after class i have a plan
cmon Tenz i know you’re done are u coming or not
???
Tenzō rolls his eyes, picks up the phone, and dials Kakashi’s number.
It rings, goes to voicemail. Tenzō dials again. This time Kakashi picks up on the third ring.
“You do know how to text, right? And your hand isn’t cramped up from taking notes?” Kakashi sounds mostly amused, not irritated; Tenzō counts it as a quiet victory that he got him to pick up at all.
“Maybe I like talking on the phone,” Tenzō says.
Kakashi snorts. “You’re a traitor to your generation. Anyways, are you coming?”
Tenzō hums into the phone, pretending to think. He’ll go— of course he will, if it’s Kakashi asking. He’d changed direction as soon as he saw Kakashi’s text. But Kakashi doesn’t need to know that. “I dunno, I really need to study for my dendrology exam tomorrow…”
“It won’t take very long,” Kakashi says, cajoling, “and I won’t even make you buy my drink.”
“That’s just because it’s Rin’s shift,” Tenzō points out, “and she probably gave it to you for free anyways.”
Kakashi huffs at being called out, but doesn’t deny it. “C’mon, Tenz, please?”
“Alright,” Tenzō says, trying not to smile too fondly into the phone. “I’ll be there.”
He hangs up as he opens the door to the coffee shop.
“You had him going, Tenzō,” Rin calls from behind the counter, grinning wide. “He really thought you weren’t gonna show.” Tenzō rolls his eyes, throws himself down in a chair across from Kakashi, who looks vaguely put out.
“Alright,” he says, “I’m here. What do you want? I really do need to study, you know.”
“You shouldn’t tease me like that, Tenzō,” Kakashi says, pouting. “Besides, if you go to study you’ll miss out on the returns from my brilliant plan.”
Obito turns from where he’s sitting at the next table over. “It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard, Tenzō, don’t listen to Bakashi.”
“Don’t listen to Obito, he’s just jealous he didn’t think of it first,” Kakashi says, kicking his best friend under the table. “Anyways, it’s just an interview for some research thing the psychology department is doing – super easy. But you have to do it in pairs and Obito won’t do it.”
“I already told you I have to study, Kakashi—”
“It’s paid,” Kakashi interrupts. Tenzō hesitates from where he’s reaching for his bag. “Fifteen dollars each for the first round, then another ten for each follow-up interview if you get picked.”
Tenzō puts his bag down.
“It’ll be easy, right? Just answer a few questions and that’s enough cash to pay for at least two trips to the the bar.” Tenzō pulls a face at that – Kakashi’s favorite bar is the grimiest establishment he’s ever been in, and he still doesn’t fully understand why it’s so universally beloved by his seniors.
But it’s also enough money to buy one of the books he needs for class, which would mean he could stop using the reserve copy in the library and study with the rest of his classmates, or here, with his friends and easy access to coffee that doesn’t taste like sludge – he can’t deny the idea is appealing.
“What is it a study about, anyways?” Tenzō asks, eyes narrowed and considering.
“Oh, you know,” Kakashi says, with a vague wave of his hand, “psychology stuff, I guess.”
Out of the corner of his eye Tenzō sees Rin clap a hand to her forehead, exasperated, but before he can say anything Kakashi is talking again.
“Also the slot I signed us up for is in five minutes so we gotta go,” he says, grabbing Tenzō’s wrist and pulling him out the door. Of course he had signed them up before even asking, Tenzō thinks, rolling his eyes. Typical.
“Kakashi, wait, tell him—” Rin calls after them, but the door closes before she can get the words out.
The questions are easy at first – how long have you known each other? How did you meet? What do you remember about your first impressions of one another? The lead research assistant, Shizune, checks off boxes and scribbles neat, tiny notes in the margins of the form as they walk through the interview.
Tenzō can’t figure out why Rin and Obito had been giving Kakashi such a hard time about his plan – it’s nice to revisit their friendship, to think about their shared history in a way that he doesn’t, usually. Even when the questions start to get more personal, he finds he doesn’t mind.
“Tenzō, you’re a little younger — did Kakashi being here have an impact on your decision to apply?”
Tenzō pauses, considering. He’s never really talked about it with Kakashi before and it’s a little embarrassing to admit in front of him – but it did have an impact, and he says as much.
Kakashi’s ears go slightly pink at the admission, and Tenzō can feel the heat rising on his own face. He doesn’t get to focus on the moment, though, because there’s a follow-up question.
“And were you already dating at that point? Or did that happen later?”
Tenzō freezes, mouth agape; before he can correct the assumption Kakashi takes his hand and says, “oh, no, that happened later – about halfway through his freshman year, right, Tenz?”
He’s looking at Tenzō with a careful expression, eyes pleading in a way that says just go with it, ok?
Ice runs through Tenzō’s veins – Kakashi did this on purpose, he knew what this study was about, that’s why he hadn’t described it in any detail. That’s why Rin’s expression had morphed into some strange mix of amusement and exasperation when Kakashi had waved away his questions – Tenzō is going to kill him.
Kakashi’s eyes are still on him, and he’s smiling, warm and entirely fake. He looks besotted, Tenzō thinks sourly. It’s an expression he’s never seen Kakashi make in his life, and certainly never directed at him.
But—
It must be something about the way Kakashi leans into him, just barely, the way he turns his head and winks, out of Shizune’s line of vision, because despite his better judgement, Tenzō nods.
“That’s – that’s right,” he stammers, hoping he’s not too obviously flustered. “It was after the trip up north, right? The one with Rin and Obito, when we saw the northern lights…”
He trails off, hoping it’s convincing, hoping Kakashi will pick up the thread of the story. Kakashi squeezes his hand, an unspoken thanks. It doesn’t do much to dispel Tenzō’s murderous mood.
“Mm, that’s right,” Kakashi says, “you were so handsome, under the stars that night, I thought to myself – I can’t let him go. And it just kind of… grew, from there. It was very easy, very natural.”
Tenzō know that’s a lie – although he remembers the trip with an almost dreamlike haze, Kakashi had looked beautiful in the moonlight, so in awe of the sky – it would have been the perfect setting. It’s why the night had sprung so readily to mind. But in reality, they’d stood in the frigid night air, watching the eerie lights as long as they could stand it, then retreated back into the cabin for hot chocolate and some ridiculous card game that Obito made up on the spot without any words passing between them.
And maybe Tenzō had spent the rest of the night looking at Kakashi from across the room, when no one could catch him staring – but Kakashi hadn’t been looking at him.
Still, Kakashi says it so convincingly, looks at him so fondly, that Tenzō half-believes it; he has to look away so Kakashi won’t see him blush. Kakashi’s hand, still wrapped loosely around his own, suddenly feels unbearably hot. Tenzō offers up a silent prayer that his palms aren’t too sweaty.
The rest of the interview passes in a blur. It’s easy enough to answer their questions, and most of the answers are true – they have known each other for a long time, so it’s not technically a lie when they agree that the thing they argue about the most is talking on the phone, and that somehow it’s Tenzō who always ends up paying for dinner, and that it had been an easy decision to move in together.
Before Tenzō really registers what’s happened, Kakashi is looking to him and saying, “oh, I’m not sure when the best time for a follow-up interview would be – but Tenz, you’ve got my calendar too, right?”
He does. They schedule another interview. There’s a surreal aspect to it – the way he realizes, with a jolt, that he already knows Kakashi’s schedule almost by heart, how he answers for the both of them, the casual way Kakashi loops an arm around his waist, fond, as they walk out the door.
He wonders if he’s dreaming.
“Kakashi,” he starts, once he’s certain they’re far enough away that it won’t jeopardize Kakashi’s plan (and what does it say, he wonders, that he’s gone along with this so easily, that he’s going along with it even now?)—
“Yes, dear?” Kakashi asks. He’s still in Tenzō’s space, walking fractionally closer than he usually would.
Tenzō shoves him. “I’m gonna kill you. I’m seriously never going to speak to you again. I won’t feel bad about it. I just wanted you to know.”
“Emotional honesty is so important in a relationship, you know. I really value that about you. I think that’s part of why we’ve lasted as long as we have,” Kakashi says, delighted with himself.
Tenzō’s cheeks burn for more reason than one, at that, and he shrugs him off with an unconvincing jerk of his shoulders.
“C’mon, Tenz. It’s a short study. Just a few weeks. We can handle that, right? No problem,” Kakashi says, grinning, and Tenzō inches ever-closer to throwing caution and good judgement to the wind.
A few weeks. A few weeks of Kakashi, occasionally keeping up appearances in his personal space, a few weeks of answering questions about an imagined relationship – that part, at least, should be easy, he’s spent plenty of time imagining this one.
A few weeks of Kakashi, a glint in his eye that speaks of shared mischief, an inside joke between friends.
“Sure,” Tenzō says, laughing nervously and hoping he doesn’t sound as faint as he feels. “No problem.”
It’s only a few weeks, he tells himself. What could go wrong?
The first test of their acting prowess comes at breakfast the next morning. Tenzō is at the counter placing their order when there’s suddenly an unnatural weight against his back, arms looping around him from behind. He tries to stifle his surprised yelp and hopes his sudden stiffness isn’t too noticeable; he’s either successful or the kid taking their order is completely uninterested, because there’s no reaction.
“Babe, did you order the eggs yet?” Kakashi’s chin comes to rest on his shoulder. “It’s just that I think I want mine fried, not scrambled.”
“I thought I told you not to sneak up on me like that,” Tenzō says, and he doesn’t have to fake his scolding tone.
“Mm,” Kakashi says with a lazy grin and a barely perceptible tilt of his head towards one of the booths behind them. “Sorry.”
“You’re not, though,” Tenzō calls after him, but it’s more out of principle than any real annoyance. Behind him, he recognizes one of the lab assistants, stuffed in a booth full of freshmen, all of whom are studiously pretending not to watch their interaction. He rolls his eyes and gets their order to go.
“See, that was easy,” Kakashi says as they eat, leaning casually against the counter while Tenzō makes a futile attempt at getting their ancient coffeepot to function. “We’ll be fine as long as we keep an eye out for anyone in the psych department.”
Tenzō frowns. “I already don’t remember half of them.”
They’re interrupted when Obito stumbles down the stairs, half-awake. He perks up when he sees the two of them in the kitchen.
“Oh, you’re still on speaking terms,” he mumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a massive yawn. “That’s unexpected.”
“I told you he’d do it,” Kakashi smirks, letting out a small ‘oof’ when Tenzō elbows him. “Tenzō’s good like that.”
Obito just raises an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you decided to go along with it, Tenzō,” he says, stealing a bite of Kakashi’s hash browns. “How much warning did he give you, that it was a study on couples?”
“Oh, he didn’t tell me,” Tenzō says, eyes darkening even as he smiles. Kakashi blows him a kiss from across the room.
“You need the cash that bad, huh,” Obito says, sighing. Tenzō lets him hold on to the assumption – if Obito wants to think that he’s going along with this for the money, he won’t correct him.
(And if it has more to do with the memory of Kakashi’s hand wrapped around his, or the easy way he’d wrapped his arm around Tenzō’s waist, well. Obito doesn’t need to know that, anyways.)
”And he’s a great friend who appreciates my ideas for what they are,” Kakashi says, batting away Obito’s hand as he tries to swipe more food.
“What, terrible?” Obito asks.
Kakashi frowns. “Please – they’re genius.”
Obito just shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous, both of you.” Tenzō makes a vague noise of protest, and Obito points a fork at him. “Don’t you make that noise, you’re going along with it.”
Tenzō doesn’t have anything to say to that, really – he can’t exactly argue when it’s true.
“Anyways, Obito, you very rudely interrupted our planning,” Kakashi says, “so now you have to help. We only have to keep up the act around people from the lab, right?”
Obito hums. “I don’t know – it’s a big program, right? Do you really think you’ll recognize all of them? It might be better to just keep up the act.”
Kakashi absently taps a finger on his lip as he thinks. “I hate to admit it, but that’s a good point. You don’t mind, right?”
Tenzō, who has apparently lost all sense of self-preservation, shakes his head.
“Why should he?” Obito says, “Besides, you’ll hardly even have to act, you’re practically married already.”
There’s a beat of silence before he looks up, taking in the twin looks of embarrassed disbelief spreading across their faces, and rolls his eyes.
“What? You know it’s true. Anyways, I’ll leave you lovebirds to it,” he sing-songs, sauntering out of the kitchen and ignoring Kakashi’s sudden coughing fit.
“You know,” Rin says from behind the register one day, “I’ve heard that sometimes they’ll make you take a quiz to see how well you know each other. Do you think you’d pass?”
And so Tenzō finds himself sprawled out on the grass of the quad, being quizzed by Kakashi and wondering how his life has gone so fully off the rails.
“Favorite dessert?”
“Trick question,” Tenzō answers, “you don’t like desserts. Mine?”
Kakashi thinks for all of a second before he has his answer. “Those no-bake cookies Rin makes,” he says confidently. “This is too easy.”
Tenzō is surprised to find he agrees – he’s picked up a lot about Kakashi, over the years, but he hadn’t realized he knew quite so much.
“Here,” Kakashi says, waving his phone in front of Tenzō’s face, “an article with a list of ‘questions every couple should know the answer to’ – that should be somewhere to start. Hey, what does your perfect vacation look like?”
Tenzō doesn’t have to think for very long.
“I think we’d go camping,” he starts. “A canoe trip, in the boundary waters. It’s supposed to be beautiful, and it’s so huge – we could see a lot, depending on how long we stayed. I think it would have to be a week, at least. But at least one night we’d find the perfect campsite by the water, and wake up in the middle of the night to paddle out onto one of the lakes and watch the stars,” he trails off, embarrassed to have said so much, “I think that would be. Uh. Nice.”
“You’d bring me on your dream trip? I’m flattered,” Kakashi says, grinning.
“Well, we are supposed to be dating,” Tenzō mutters, looking away. He’s spent a lot of time planning this trip, at least in his head, and Kakashi is there in every iteration – but he’s not about to admit that.
“I’m not making fun of you, Tenzō,” Kakashi says, softer than before. “It sounds like a lovely trip. I’d love to go on it with you sometime, if you’d have me.”
Tenzō whips his head back to look at him. “Really?”
He must look a little too excited, because Kakashi lets out a quiet, startled laugh. “Yeah, really. It sounds like a lot of fun.”
“Yeah,” Tenzō says, quietly pleased. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”
There’s an easy break in the conversation, then, both of them content to sit in the sun, watching the clouds.
“How about you?” Tenzō asks, after enough clouds have drifted by that he’s had time to regain his composure.
“Hm?” Kakashi sounds half-asleep; like he’s drifted off in the companionable silence.
“Your dream trip,” Tenzō reminds him. “I have to know your answers, too.”
“Oh,” Kakashi says, “right. Hmm..” he sits up, stretching. “I think we’d go on a road trip. No real destination in mind, we’d just drive, and stop anywhere that looks interesting – and maybe we could bring a tent and camp, sometimes, too, since you like that so much.” He turns, fixing Tenzō with a small smile. “Something like that.”
“You’d bring me on your dream trip?” Tenzō teases, echoing Kakashi’s earlier question.
“Yeah,” Kakashi says, turning towards him. He looks serious, suddenly, honest eyes fixed on Tenzō. “Yeah, I would.”
Tenzō freezes, mouth half-open, the witty retort he’d prepared stuck on the tip of his tongue.
Kakashi’s cheeks are pink – from the sun or something else, Tenzō can’t tell – and he won’t meet Tenzō’s eyes. Tenzō wants to tell him, then, that he’d want Kakashi on his trip either way, that he can’t think of a better way to spend a summer than travelling with Kakashi, that it wouldn’t even matter where they went, as long as they went together—
“Anyways,” Kakashi mutters, “we should keep studying.”
“R-right,” Tenzō says, conviction lost. “What’s the next question?”
“You guys always have the best answers,” Shizune says at the end of the week’s interview. “I can tell you’ve been close for a long time, it’s so sweet.”
Tenzō doesn’t bother hiding his pleased smile when Kakashi wraps an arm around his shoulders.
“He is sweet, isn’t he,” Kakashi says, tilting his head against Tenzō’s. “The only sweet thing I like.”
Tenzō’s starting to accept that very little of his part in this is really acting – the blush that creeps across his face is certainly entirely natural.
“You can’t say things like that,” he says, leaning away from Kakashi’s touch and hitting his shoulder, “it’s gross. Don’t make other people watch you being so sappy.”
Across from them, Shizune laughs. “Seriously, you’re adorable. Anyways, next week we’re talking about sleep habits. Does the same time work for you?”
Tenzō nods, distracted by the warm weight of Kakashi’s arm around him. It’s not until they’re halfway out of the building that her words register, and Tenzō stops in his tracks.
“Kakashi,” he hisses, “sleeping—we don’t know anything about sharing a bed, we’ve never slept together, what are we gonna do—”
Kakashi laughs at him, and Tenzō can feel heat on his cheeks as he realizes what he’s said.
“Oh, shut up,” he mutters, elbowing Kakashi, “you know what I mean – what are we supposed to say, that we sleep in separate beds? That’s not believable!”
“Well,” Kakashi says, and there’s a glint in his eye that Tenzō knows means mischief. “We studied for the other questions. We can just study for this, too.”
They settle on Tenzō’s bed, because it cost fifteen dollars more and is therefore nicer, although only just. It’s also conveniently far enough from Obito’s room to delay, if not completely avoid, the inevitable ridicule.
Tenzō is sitting awkwardly on one side of the bed when Kakashi pads into the room, pillow in hand and, to Tenzō’s horror, shirtless.
This, Tenzō thinks, must be the worst idea he’s ever had, the worst plan of Kakashi’s that he’s ever gone along with. Faking a relationship in public is one thing – it’s more easily controlled, there’s less risk of him embarrassing himself – but sharing a bed is entirely different. He could say something incriminating in his sleep, he could unconsciously wrap himself around Kakashi, and wouldn’t that make him uncomfortable, he could have an inappropriate dream—
“You look like a man condemned, Tenz,” Kakashi says drily, interrupting his train of thought. “Should I be offended?”
“What? No,” Tenzō says, quickly enough that it sounds panicked even to his own ears. “There’s no problem. I mean, I don’t mind it, I’m sure it’ll be nice—uh. Fine. It’s fine.”
He snaps his mouth shut in a belated attempt to cut off his own rambling. Kakashi is laughing at him, it’s obvious from the way his mouth quirks up at the corners — although Tenzō appreciates that he’s at least trying to keep a straight face.
“Really, though,” Kakashi says, sitting next to him, “I can go back to my room. We can just make something up.”
“No—” Tenzō says, then winces at how quickly he’d protested. “I mean. They say that the easiest lie to tell is one that’s half true, right?”
It’s a weak justification and he knows it. Kakashi raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t say anything, just grins and slides under the sheets.
Tenzō follows suit, painfully aware of just how wooden his limbs have suddenly become – he’s nervous about this. Their other ruses have been harmless enough, but this feels real in a way nothing else has.
He hasn’t shared a bed with anyone in longer than he’d care to admit, and although in any other situation Kakashi would be his first choice, this – the false intimacy, the studious way they’d discussed pillow density and which side of the bed they preferred – it’s too unnatural, and Tenzō feels a little guilty, like maybe he’s taking advantage of Kakashi by not protesting, never mind that it was Kakashi’s idea in the first place, but it was maybe wrong for Tenzō to agree when he was already emotionally compromised—
Kakashi, of course, is completely oblivious to his ethical dilemma.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but I have terrible circulation,” he says cheerfully, and Tenzō has just opened his mouth to ask what that has to do with anything when he feels the icy press of cold toes against his legs and his question turns into an offended yelp.
What are you doing,” he hisses, and it must come out sharper than intended because Kakashi’s eyes widen and he backs off.
“Sorry, Tenz, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine,” Tenzō mutters, “I just got surprised, that’s all.”
“Alright,” Kakashi says, but he stays where he is. As they lay staring at the ceiling in complete silence, Tenzō wishes, briefly, for his bed to swallow him up – it would probably be a mercy, at this point.
Tenzō wakes up sweating. He tries to kick his feet out from under the blanket to cool down, but there’s a warm weight on top of his chest, and pressed against his side, and his eyes snap open in alarm, trying to figure out what it is that’s wrapped around him so completely.
He can’t decide if it‘s a relief or cause for further alarm when the first thing he sees is a shock of grey-white hair, and his memory of the previous night comes rushing back.
He’s not sure what, exactly, happened between the night’s stilted silence and now, but at least he won’t be lying when he tells Shizune that Kakashi is the clingiest sleeper he’s ever encountered.
(He won’t mention that it’s kind of nice, actually, to be so enveloped in another person, and that he almost doesn’t mind the way Kakashi’s bare skin is too-warm against his.)
Trying not to shift too much, he takes stock of the situation. Kakashi’s arm is thrown across his chest, his cheek pressed up against Tenzō’s shoulder. Their legs are twined together and Tenzō can’t exactly see how Kakashi’s body is twisted to make this tangle of limbs possible, but he can’t imagine it’s comfortable.
He’s still fretting over Kakashi’s spinal integrity when his alarm goes off.
Kakashi grumbles some inaudible protest into Tenzō’s shoulder, the warm puff of air raising goosebumps on his skin.
“Kakashi,” Tenzō says, warning, “I need to get up.”
“Mm,” Kakashi hums, “need’s a strong word, don’t you think?”
“It’s an accurate one, though, Kakashi, let go, you’re gonna make me late,” Tenzō says, squirming in Kakashi’s grasp.
It’s a futile effort – if anything, Kakashi seems to grip him even tighter, like some sort of sleepy, bony boa constrictor.
“Stay,” he says, voice thick with sleep, and Tenzō resigns himself to missing his first class.
“You’re a terrible influence,” he sighs, reaching over to turn off his next three alarms and ignoring the funny feeling in his chest at Kakashi’s soft, breathy laugh.
They go out for breakfast with Obito and Rin on Saturday, and when they give an update on the plan Obito laughs so hard he cries.
“Careful, you’ll strain something,” Kakashi says, distinctly unimpressed. “It’s not that funny.”
“Bakashi, you dumbass, you could have just told each other how you sleep. Or lie! You could lie!”
“It’s called method acting, Obito,” Kakashi says, imperious. “You wouldn’t understand.”
That only sets Obito off again, and the conversation quickly dissolves from there – they’re nearly wrestling in the booth when Rin heaves a sigh and turns to Tenzō, exasperated.
“You’re a good sport, for putting up with his plan like this,” she says, and he tries not to choke on his coffee.
“It’s not so bad,” he mutters, suddenly unable to make eye contact.
Rin’s eyebrow, arched delicately upwards, tells him that the blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks is just as visible as he’d feared.
“Not so bad, huh?” she starts, gentle teasing in her voice. “Tenzō, do you—"
“Rin, please—” he cuts her off before she can put anything to words— “don’t.”
She very politely says nothing about the frantic way his voice cracks, just smiles into her coffee as his face gets, impossibly, redder.
“Alright, this one is for both of you – what’s your favorite thing about the other?”
Shizune is out of town, so they’re doing this week’s interview with Dr. Tsunade herself – something about the lead researcher being present seems to up the stakes, because Kakashi’s been laying it on thick, squeezing Tenzō’s shoulders and leaning into his side and giving him soft smiles with each answer. Their studying has paid off, and Kakashi gives the kinds of answers he could only hope a real partner would – with every question Tenzō finds himself being touched that Kakashi knows so much about him; he keeps having to remind himself it’s all a lie.
He can’t decide if ignoring that is making things better or worse.
“He reminds me that I can be genuine,” Kakashi says, looking over shyly. They hadn’t prepared for this question – Tenzō is impressed with Kakashi’s acting, to be able to come up with something so sweet on the spot. “Everyone has expectations for me, some preconceived idea – how I’ll act, what I’ll do, what they want from me. With Tenzō it’s not like that. He’s always ready to meet me where I am.”
Tenzō’s touched for all of a moment – he’s always tried to be an easy friend, so it’s nice to hear Kakashi acknowledge it – but then Kakashi grins at him, so blatantly sappy that he’s jolted out of the fiction all over again and has to scramble for his own answer.
“I like. Uh. The way he hums while he’s washing the dishes, and that he thinks nobody can hear him—” halfway through his sentence, Tenzō realizes abruptly that he’s being perhaps too honest, that something broad would have been better, more convincing. “I mean, that’s not my favorite thing, it’s nothing important really, but—”
Dr. Tsunade smiles. “But it’s the first thing that came to mind – that’s important, too, even if it’s small.”
Tenzō is sure he must be bright red, by now – but it’s a surprise when he looks over and sees that Kakashi is, too.
Kakashi is quieter than usual as they leave, eyes far away, and Tenzō wonders if he’s made things weird – if it’s possible for things to get any weirder than they already are.
He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t let go of Tenzō’s hand even when they’re well out of sight of the psychology building. Tenzō doesn’t point it out.
They’re waiting for traffic to clear so they can cross the street when Kakashi turns to him, looks down at their hands like he’s surprised to see them still connected.
“I meant it, you know,” he says, looking at Tenzō and smiling like he knows some quiet secret. “What I said. I know we didn’t prepare for that one, but it was – it was easy enough, to give an honest answer.”
Tenzō’s breath catches in his throat – he should say something, he knows, should tell Kakashi that he’d been honest, too, that he’s been honest, this entire time – but he can’t seem to find the words. The crosswalk switches to the walk sign.
“Ah, you’re a good friend, Tenzō,” Kakashi says, flinging an arm around Tenzō’s shoulders, and his smile is less brilliant than it had been when they were talking to Tsunade, but more genuine for it. “The best.”
“Th-thanks,” Tenzō stutters, “you, too.”
Right, he reminds himself. A friend. That’s it.
Stupid, to think that it could be something more, no matter how easily Kakashi holds his hand, no matter how natural it feels.
Stupid to wonder, sometimes, if Kakashi isn’t acting as much as he’s letting on.
Rin pulls open the door and throws her arms around Kakashi’s neck by way of greeting.
“You came! Both of you! You never come!” She gives Tenzō a friendly peck on the forehead and gestures them in; the music and the smell of spilled beer hit Tenzō like a physical wave as he steps inside.
Rin and her roommates have decorated for something, although Tenzō isn’t quite sure what the occasion is. But it doesn’t matter – it’s a party, and he’s there with Kakashi, and he’s determined to have fun – as friends or as a fake date, he isn’t sure which and he doesn’t really care.
He walks in the door and very nearly turns right back around when he sees Shizune and her friends clustered around Obito, who’s no doubt teaching them the rules to some unnecessarily complicated drinking game.
Instead of leaving, he grabs Kakashi by the elbow and hauls him into the kitchen.
“We can’t stay here – why didn’t Rin tell us she was friends with Shizune?” he hisses, hoping he doesn’t look too panicked.
Kakashi just laughs, reaches around him to put his beer in the fridge. “Relax, Tenzō. Rin might be a traitor,” he says, looking pointedly at her as she comes into the kitchen, “but we’ll be fine.”
Rin just rolls her eyes. “You did this to yourselves when you came up with this scheme,” she says, “I have zero sympathy. I’m not going to exclude my friends just because the two of you are being ridiculous.”
“You could have at least warned us,” Tenzō grumbles, and Rin laughs at him.
“Absolutely not,” she says, “I’m allowed to have my fun too.”
“Oh, and your fun has to be at our expense?” Kakashi whines.
“Mm, yes, in this case I think it does,” she hums, smiling sweetly and handing them each a cup. “If you run away I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”
“Remind me why I’m friends with you, again?” Kakashi says, and Rin just grins at him, cheeky and entirely self-satisfied.
Kakashi and Tenzō are left watching her back as she heads back to the party.
“I forget, sometimes,” Kakashi starts, “that they really are just awful, her and Obito both.”
Tenzō doesn’t say anything – he’s focused on downing his beer as fast as humanly possible.
“We don’t have to stay,” Kakashi says, catching Tenzō’s elbow. “She’d make fun of us at first, but eventually she’d lose interest.” He grimaces, all too familiar with Rin’s excellent memory. “Eventually.”
“It’s fine,” Tenzō says, resigning himself to an evening of Kakashi draped all over him, squeezing his shoulders and murmuring in his ear and leaning against him on the couch and oh god this is such a bad idea—
“It’s fine,” he says again, and goes off in search of where he might be able to do some shots.
They end up in the basement, playing some complicated card game that only a few people seem to know the rules to – but any attempt at learning them goes very quickly out the window when Tenzō draws the seven of hearts and everyone around him bursts into excited yelling.
“What?” he asks, frowning as he scrutinizes the card, “What’s the rule for this one?”
“Which one did you—” Kakashi starts. Tenzō shows him the card. “…Ah.”
“Ah, what? What does it mean?” Tenzō whispers, suddenly worried.
“That would be. Well.” Whatever the card is, it’s given Kakashi a pinched expression; he looks suddenly and intensely uncomfortable. “Seven minutes in heaven,” he says, almost too quickly to understand, and Tenzō could swear he’s blushing. “Or you can just take the King’s Cup.”
All eyes are on them. Tenzō is just buzzed enough that the words leave his mouth before he can think better of it: “That’s okay,” he says, looking sideways at Kakashi through his lashes. “Kiss me?”
The room erupts into catcalls and hoots of laughter. Kakashi very nearly spits out his drink.
“Alright,” Tenzō says, trying for a confidence he doesn’t exactly have, “point us towards the closet.”
“Oh, there isn’t one down here,” Obito calls, “just – I don’t know, go over there in the corner or something.”
Kakashi glowers at him, looks like he’s about to argue – but Tenzō grabs his elbow and pulls him up before he can make a fuss.
”Shizune,” he hisses, and sees Kakashi’s eyes widen with understanding. Before Tenzō knows it Kakashi is distractingly close, one hand pressed on the wall above Tenzō’s head in a way that makes it easy for Tenzō to notice how his shirt is undone one button deeper than usual, a sliver of skin visible on his chest.
Something presses against his hair – it’s Kakashi, he realizes, when a puff of warm breath hits his ear. He tries not to shiver.
“Is this ok?” Kakashi murmurs, voice audible over the music only because of his proximity.
Oh, no, Tenzō thinks. “Yes,” he breathes.
“I’m, uh. Gonna kiss you now,” Kakashi says, and then their noses bump and Kakashi’s mouth is on his, soft and tentative and Tenzō does his utmost not to melt into Kakashi’s chest at the touch. Behind them, someone whistles.
But he must be too still, too shocked, because Kakashi pulls away for just an instant – this close, Tenzō realizes how long his eyelashes are, they flutter so prettily against his cheeks, he’d never noticed before – with a faint look of concern. “Okay?” he murmurs, a puff of air against Tenzō’s cheek.
Instead of answering, Tenzō moves, tilting his head up for another kiss. It’s purely selfish – just the one would have been enough for their ruse – but Tenzō is just tipsy enough that he can’t quite regret it.
He wraps an arm up around Kakashi’s shoulders, arches into him and tries to tell himself that this is a performance – but it’s hard when Kakashi laughs, humming soft and low against his lips, when a hand finds its way into his hair. It’s a chaste kiss, their lips barely brushing together, but no onlooker would know that, not with the way Kakashi presses him up against the wall, not when Tenzō has to loop his arms behind Kakashi’s neck to keep upright, and oh, Tenzō wants this.
It could be seven minutes or seven seconds, Tenzō has no idea – it’s all he can do not to sigh as they pull apart, and when the room spins he’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol or Kakashi.
Kakashi, who looks dazed as he stares at Tenzō, eyes blown wide and a flush rising on his cheeks, who runs his thumb over Tenzō’s lip, a look of faint disbelief flashing across his face.
The rest of the game has already moved on, the next card something inappropriate enough that the entire group is howling with laughter – so it’s just Tenzō and Kakashi, in their own tiny bubble, quiet even as the party goes on behind them.
“Tenzō,” Kakashi starts uncertainly, voice uneven – then seems to remember where they are, shaking his head and coming back to himself.
“Ah—sorry,” he mutters, looking down and pulling back from where he’s still half-pinning Tenzō to the wall. If Tenzō didn’t know better, he’d say Kakashi looked flustered.
“It’s alright,” Tenzō says, pleasantly surprised when his voice is only the tiniest bit breathless. “It worked, at least.”
“It.. worked?” Kakashi seems to have to think about that for a moment before straightening, looking behind them to see the party in full swing, completely unconcerned with any private epiphanies Tenzō, at least, might be having. “Right. I think—I need some air,” he says, heading abruptly for the stairs and leaving Tenzō to sag against the wall, catching his breath and marveling at the electricity buzzing under his skin.
Kakashi’s cologne is still lingering on his clothes when he gets home. The scent is faint, faint enough that Tenzō has to press his shirt to his nose to really smell the fragrance, warm and musky and entirely Kakashi. He’s not sure how long he stands there, stock-still in the middle of his room, before he comes to his senses and throws the shirt into his hamper, scrubbing a hand over his face and urging himself to get it together.
It was only for the act, he reminds himself. It’s not real, it’s never been real. Only a show, no matter how dumbstruck Kakashi may have looked in the seconds after they pulled apart.
Still – it had been a good kiss, soft and sweet in a way Tenzō hadn’t expected. It would be nice, to kiss Kakashi again, really kiss him, without an audience. Without the act. Because for all that Tenzō has idly daydreamed about what it might be like, to be with Kakashi, it’s only now that he’s spent weeks pretending that he’s realized how badly he wants it to be real.
When he catches himself lifting his hand to his lips, still only half-believing it had really happened, Tenzō falls face-first onto his bed, trying to smother his vague noise of distress with a pillow and wondering, absently, if this will be what finally pushes him over the edge.
They don’t talk about the party.
Tenzō hadn’t really been expecting that they would – Kakashi has always been avoidant in his personal life, and Tenzō hasn’t quite worked up the nerve to say anything. After all, what could he say?
“I know you were faking it, but I wish you hadn’t been—”
“We should try that again sometime—”
“I’ve been taking advantage of this game of ours even though I knew you’re only pretending—”
“I’ve wanted to do that for weeks, months—”
He practices in the mirror, each line providing a new and uncomfortable conversation for him to imagine – none of them are right. But the study is almost over, even if Tenzō is newly aware that he doesn’t want it to be. Their relationship, as it stands, has reached its natural end. And maybe that’s for the best, Tenzō tells himself – they’ll stop pretending, and things will go back to normal, and everything will be fine.
(He gets so good at that particular lie that he almost believes it, even. Almost.)
“Get dinner with me,” Kakashi says, the night before the last interview. “My treat.”
They’re sprawled out on Tenzō’s bed, looking between Kakashi’s laptop and a pile of trail maps as they plan for their summer trip, and if Tenzō finds he’s feeling surprisingly melancholy that their game is ending, at least he has this to look forward to.
“Alright,” he says, not looking up from the map until Kakashi stands. “What, now?”
Kakashi looks like he’s steeling himself for something, although Tenzō isn’t sure why. They have dinner all the time.
“Yeah,” Kakashi says, “Yeah, I think so.”
Kakashi picks a nice restaurant – much nicer than where they’d usually go, Tenzō realizes when they walk in and he immediately feels out of place. He protests halfheartedly at the cost, but Kakashi waves off his concern.
“My job pays more, Tenzō,” he says, which is true, if only barely, “plus, I’m the one who dragged you into this, right? The least I can do is say thank you. I won’t even try to stick you with the bill, promise.”
“Alright,” Tenzō acquiesces with a faint smile, “thank you, then. Although you could have said thank you with a coffee, too.”
Kakashi flashes a quick smile at that, although there’s still a tightness around his eyes, some tension Tenzō doesn’t understand.
It’s only when they’re seated that Tenzō sees Dr. Tsunade, eating with a group of colleagues on the other side of the restaurant. She’s seated far enough away to be out of earshot, but she can definitely see them – and recognizes them, judging from the friendly smile she sends Tenzō’s way. He hopes the expression he makes in return doesn’t look too much like a grimace.
“Kakashi,” he says, trying not to seem too panicked, “you need to hold my hand. And act natural.”
Kakashi takes his hand from across the table without a second thought, as easy as breathing, and picks up the wine list.
“Oh?” he asks, “And why might that be?”
“Oh, you know, just another test, somehow,” Tenzō says, pointedly avoiding looking at the offending table, “Dr. Tsunade is here.”
Kakashi seems to find that funny, more than concerning. “Of course she is,” he says wryly, “that would be just our luck, wouldn’t it?”
“Kakashi,” Tenzō hisses, “this isn’t funny.”
“Are you sure? Because it seems like it might be,” Kakashi hums, cracking the first real smile Tenzō’s seen from him all night. “Calm down, Tenz. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”
He squeezes Tenzō’s hand, and Tenzō realizes that he’s right – they have made it pretty far, through a combination of Kakashi’s convincing acting and Tenzō’s… honesty. And it’s been easy, easy to fall into a routine with Kakashi, and natural, easy to let him wind his way even further into Tenzō’s life – so easy it hurts, to think of letting it go.
He makes distracted conversation with Kakashi, halfheartedly fights him for the last piece of bread. Tenzō knows he isn’t being a good conversational partner – but his mind is elsewhere: he’s thinking of the gap, the ache that will be left when they go back to their regular routine, and he’s preoccupied with the way Kakashi’s fingers are linked with his, loose and comfortable. His pulse is racing at the soft contact. He wonders if Kakashi can feel it.
He can’t ignore it any more, how far over his head he is. He’d thought he would be able to compartmentalize, to put away his feelings for Kakashi – but even knowing it’s all been a game, he hasn’t been able to. He keeps thinking about the way Kakashi smiles at him, in interviews and even now, about a month’s worth of casual touches and genuine laughter and shared secrets.
He’s torn between not wanting to acknowledge it – maybe it will make it easier, when it’s all over? – and wanting to take it all in, absorb every last detail of their final night of pretending.
Kakashi’s thumb is rubbing slow, soft circles on the back of his hand and Tenzō can’t tell if it’s intentional or not but it’s killing him, it’s all he can focus on, he hardly registers a word Kakashi says.
Despite Tenzō’s poor conversation Kakashi looks impossibly fond, across the table. It’s almost too believable, too convincing. Tenzo tries not to think about how much he wishes it were genuine, that Kakashi wasn’t just an incredible actor.
He can’t focus on what Kakashi is saying – keeps looking to where Dr. Tsunade is sitting, and when she and her friends stand to leave he breathes a huge sigh of relief.
“Tenzō, I—” Kakashi starts, but Tenzō is already tearing his hand out of Kakashi’s as fast as he can.
“Dr. Tsunade is gone,” he mutters, heat rising on his face. “We don’t have to pretend anymore.”
Kakashi looks confused – and faintly… hurt? Tenzō is sure he must be imagining that, at least – for just a moment, looking down to where their hands had been clasped just a moment before.
“Oh,” he says, “right. Yeah. Thank goodness she left, right?”
He laughs, a nervous sound, eyes flicking between Tenzō’s face and his now-empty hand, disappointed for some reason Tenzō can’t quite figure out.
Even after they’ve been paid, Kakashi walks close to him on the way out of the psychology building – dedicated to the illusion through the end. Tenzō just hopes he hadn’t looked too obviously gloomy.
“We really got them, huh?” Kakashi says, a satisfied smirk on his face. “You’re a good actor – there were a few times when even I wondered if we’d actually started dating without me noticing.”
Tenzō can feel sudden heat on his face, a sudden anger boiling deep within him that suddenly spills over, before he can even realize what’s happening.
“Yeah,” he says, voice flat and cold. “That’s hilarious.”
Kakashi either doesn’t hear the warning tone in his voice, or chooses to ignore it, because he carries blithely on, voice smug – “It’s almost like you like me, or something, Tenz.”
Tenzō stops in his tracks. Kakashi keeps walking for a moment, climbing up the steps to their porch before he apparently realizes that he’s no longer being followed.
“Tenzō..?” he turns. Tenzō must look more upset than he’d thought, because apprehension flickers across Kakashi’s face for the briefest of moments before he collects himself again, and the unconcerned expression returns. “Is something wrong..?”
“This whole thing—has it all been a joke, to you?” Tenzō blurts out, before he can think better of it.
Kakashi looks at him, uncomprehending. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. Like a fish out of water, Tenzō thinks, bitter.
“Tenzō, I—"
“Because— because it’s not, to me, okay? Or—I wish it weren’t.”
Tenzō freezes, realizing too late what he’s confessed.
Across from him, Kakashi is frozen, too, mouth half-open.
“Oh,” Kakashi says, dumbly. Tenzō wants to scream, wants to punch him.
“Yeah, oh,” he says, pushing past him in a hurry to get into the house, off the porch before Kakashi can respond.
He slams the door shut on his way in, but can’t seem to move his feet any further, sagging against the wall. Outside, he hears Kakashi mutter something – it’s inaudible, but sounds frustrated – before taking a steadying breath.
There’s a moment of silence, the sound of Kakashi rummaging through his backpack, then—
“Rin?” he’s on the phone, Tenzō realizes.
“Yeah, it's done—he’s very angry.” A pause. “I don’t know, he’s—I think I messed, up, Rin.”
Suddenly Tenzō doesn’t want to hear it anymore. There’s a hurt in Kakashi’s voice that he doesn’t understand, and he isn’t sure he wants to, either. It doesn’t seem fair, that Kakashi might be hurt by this too, not when it’s his fault to begin with.
He pushes off the wall and runs upstairs before he can hear any more, hopes that Kakashi doesn’t hear the frustrated noise he lets out as he throws himself onto his bed, embarrassed and angry and sad.
He’s on the roof, staring glumly up at the stars, when he hears a hesitant tap at the window frame.
“Tenzō,” Kakashi starts, awkward.
Tenzō rolls onto his side, back to the window. He can’t decide if he’s annoyed or relieved when he hears Kakashi climb up through the window anyways.
The roof creaks as Kakashi settles next to him.
“Okay,” Kakashi says, after an awkward pause. “I think we can both admit I kind of… botched the delivery, on that.”
They’re going to have a conversation, Tenzō realizes with a groan. He doesn’t roll to face Kakashi, though, not quite yet.
“Oh, did you?” Tenzō asks, with a humorless smile, “I hadn’t noticed.”
Kakashi sighs. “Okay, I deserve that. I’m sorry.”
Tenzō hums, but turns to face him, at least.
“For the record—” Kakashi stumbles over his words, uncharacteristically hesitant. “I—I didn’t want it to be a joke, either.”
Tenzō’s heart stops, for just a moment.
“Oh,” he says, because suddenly there’s nothing else to say.
“Yeah,” Kakashi says, squirming under Tenzō’s wide-eyed stare. “Oh.”
“I didn’t realize—” Tenzō starts, then stops again.
“No,” Kakashi says, “neither did I.”
There’s a pause, the two of them staring up at the stars.
“Mm, it's too bad," Kakashi hums absently, "this could have been the perfect opportunity for the two of us to recognize our mutual feelings, don't you think? Almost like a movie.”
Tenzō connects several dots at once, then.
“Kakashi,” he starts, sitting up so he can really look at him, “you didn’t.”
“I didn’t..?” Kakashi asks, brow furrowed in confusion.
“Did you borrow this brilliant idea from the plot of one of your terrible books? You didn’t have to trick me into fake dating you, Kakashi!” Tenzō cries, exasperated. “You could have just asked, if you wanted! I would have said yes!”
Kakashi winces.
“I’ll… leave you to decide the source of this particular plan of mine,” he mutters, and when Tenzō looks over he can see that Kakashi’s ears have turned entirely red.
“You,” Tenzō says, voice clipped, “are a colossal idiot. You’re ridiculous. I hate you so much, you and your half-baked, poorly thought out B-movie romantic-comedy plans—unbelievable. I should push you off of this roof.”
He can’t quite keep the smile off his face as he says it.
Kakashi pouts, just a little. “I’ll admit that it got… a little bit out of hand,” he says, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. “I probably could have thought it through a little bit more but the underlying idea—”
He’s looking away, so he doesn’t see Tenzō leaning closer, doesn’t stop his nervous babbling until Tenzō’s lips are pressed, feather soft, against the corner of his mouth.
It’s only for a moment, but Tenzō can tell he’s well and truly flustered from the way Kakashi freezes completely, how he blushes so deeply that Tenzō can see it even in the dim light of the streetlamp.
“You’re a moron,” he murmurs, thumb still resting lightly against Kakashi’s cheekbone. “You’re lucky that’s one of the things I love about you.”
Kakashi’s eyes go wide, at that, and it’s Tenzō who's flushing, now.
“Oh,” Kakashi says, then, eloquently, “uh.”
“You know,” Tenzō blurts, frantically searching for a change of topic, “we still haven’t really shared a bed all that much. We might need to study, just in case.”
He winces at the terrible line, and its awkward delivery – but Kakashi just laughs, turns his head into Tenzō’s shoulder.
“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you,” he mumbles into Tenzō’s neck. “Alright, then. But I think we'll probably have a lot of cramming to do – it’s almost the end of the semester, after all.”
“Mm, no, not if you try lines like that,” Tenzō says, laughter bubbling from his chest, “that was even worse than mine. You were a lot better at this, before – maybe you should pretend Dr. Tsunade is watching.”
“Tenzō,” Kakashi’s head whips up, the pain of betrayal painted across his face, “how could you say that, I don’t want to think about it anymore—”
Obito complains, the next day.
“Listen, if you’re going to keep me up at least do something hot, don’t just sit on the roof laughing like idiots until two in the morning – two in the morning, Bakashi, I live here too—”
Tenzō listens to them argue from where he’s still curled up in Kakashi’s bed, and wonders at how impossibly light his chest suddenly feels as he drifts back to sleep.
Kakashi wakes him later, gently shaking his shoulder and murmuring, “you need to get up, you’ll be late.”
“’s alright,” Tenzō mumbles sleepily, tugging a smiling Kakashi onto his chest. “Just come back to bed, I’m cold.”
(He misses his class.)