Work Text:
Yamato presses his face into the crook of Kakashi’s neck, giggling and warm with each outbreath, tickling nerves in a way that sends flush spilling up his collar beneath the mask to settle under each eye, “Missed you, senpai…”
“I’ve been here, Tenzo,” Kakashi says, digging the flat of his chin into the other’s crown, keeping his voice low and even, even as he locks eyes with the captain’s former conversation partner--who he had swiveled away from with the alcohol-dulled edge of all his shinobi agility as soon as he’d remembered exactly whose elbows were nudging his own.
Asuma stifles laughter from the barstool on Yamato’s other side, pressing the grin into the brunt of his palm, cigarette cocked on the other end. He raises a hand, gesturing for another tumbler that he slides Kakashi’s way.
Kakashi hums in a deliberate show of good humor, shaking his head at Asuma as he catches the glass, as if to distance himself from the way the other man leans into him, with his wrists crossed over the small of his back to keep them pulled together. Asuma’s smile twists sly at the ends with an unexpected sense of understanding. He’s seen Kakashi on bar crawls before, their years from the academy keeping their generation of motley jonin loosely cohered, and even drunken fraternity never lends him to touch--to allow touch--like this.
Kakashi huffs laughter this time, he supposes it’s expected, time breeding familiarity, but there’s a lit-match sort of pleasure to it, too, being caught, slipping a little, if only for his kouhai’s breath fanning heat over his throat. He opens his mouth to make a defense, but Tenzo withdraws in that moment, hands sliding up his waist and catching Kakashi’s jaw--ungloved, a single layer of cloth between their skin.
Kakashi can’t see Asuma beyond him, but he’s lost reason now, with Tenzo’s close-eyed smile glinting under pinkened cheeks, with full lips pulled up to bare just the edge of gums.
“Hm?” Kakashi breathes a chuckle, watches Yamato’s eyelids lift, brows following before furrowing, expectant smile dropping into crimped mouth and tilted head. The warmth of his face, in all its stolid angles, is blurred by the haze of alcohol, and his eyes white-rimmed with shine.
Yamato’s index finger strokes at the joint of his jaw tentatively, dark gaze flitting about over his shoulders as his head swivels. Kakashi watches the way his pupils narrow a little when his gaze drifts away with an acute sting in his ribs.
“Ah, come with me?” he licks the corner of his mouth, words loose and stumbling, and Kakashi can feel himself stiffen into full laughter. The younger is never so bold, even with the thrum of alcohol hammering heat in his veins, and he doesn’t react much to the laughter, besides a fond softening of the intensity of his gaze. Yamato runs his thumb over the seam of the mask, double-tips his head toward the bathroom, completely unabashed.
Kakashi can’t help the quietly barked laugh, set over the raucous ring of Asuma’s guffaw from behind him. Tenzo’s hand drifts into the lap--plays languid over the ridges of his throat and floats his collar bones with a reverence--where his own is settled and gently tugs it, spinning Kakashi from his barstool. Kakashi uncurls his hand from the untouched drink and shoots the other jonin a smile with the solitary exposed eye.
It’s cute, watching Yamato crane his neck to dip his face into the lowly lit doorway of the bathroom, hair swishing about his nape as he checks for occupants before pulling them inside. Without the shadow of a mission directive hanging over them, maskless and in jonin blues, the leaden drag of drunkenness weighing his careful watch into a game of bobbing and weaving, Kakashi’s enjoying the vaguely familiar view.
“This isn’t like you,” Kakashi smiles, expects that broad hand locking with his to press his wrists against the doorframe the instant he’s pulled in, leverage for a kiss, but instead it comes up to cradle his face again. Repeats that gentle stroke in the tender hollow beneath his jaw before the thumb slips under to slide his mask down his throat.
He braces again, for a kiss, but Yamato doesn’t lurch forward with that endearing beer breath, instead rubs his thumb on the beauty mark below his lip with a happy smile. A sprig of green unfurls from beneath his ear, mokuton spilling past his skin with the way the sight of Kakashi’s barely parted mouth unwinds the tension in his shoulder blades.
“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, pitching on a whine at the end, dark eyes warm with depth as he cocks his head with a blooming fondness, “I wanted to see you.” His head lolls down against his own chest, boneless with happiness.
Kakashi, absurdly, flushes with a start, quietly astounded at the display of affection--to tug him aside, simply to see his face, crooked nose and missing teeth and all--and the way it’s managed to throw him so off-kilter. For years now, even in their separation, Tenzou has been enduringly and steadfastly genuine and faithful in his devotion, but there is a depth to it impossible to broach, even when they know each other to the marrow. His now bare lips upquirk in the corners with a small twitch of the nose, a movement he notes catches Yamato’s eye: It’s his job to do the flustering around here.
“Ah, you mean no blowjob?” The younger’s eyes widen with surprise, thick brows lifting to greet his hairline and face going from boyishly pink to fully ruddy. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind.
Kakashi laughs again, reaches up to card hands through the other’s hair, the touch sending his flush a couple degrees richer, “Oooh, you’re so drunk, Tenzo.”
“I dunno,” he mumbles, starting up on a giggle that tweaks his shoulders and has his head bobbing from where it rests on his chest, butting up into Kakashi’s palms. “I jus’ like looking at you. Handsome."
“That all, hmm?” Kakashi’s eyes crinkle in embarrassed glee, and Yamato’s laugh picks up wind, breathy as it hitches into full noise. Kakashi runs his hands over his scalp, hair impossibly soft as the strands sift between the gaps in his fingers.
“C’mere,” he pulls him forward, tucks him back in that nice spot against his clavicle to prop up his slack neck, lets him giggle against the bunched fabric of his mask. He must admit, the huff of breath on bare skin is much nicer, barely moist and wafting. Even better when Tenzo starts to speak, muttering into his skin.
"'s just tha' you're such a heartthrob, 'Kashi"--a giggle--"you know back in tha ANBU barracks they used 'ta say all thi' sorta… stuff,” His hands flap, gesturing abstractly in the space between them, “Abouch’yer face, but, maaaaan! If they only knew!" His laugh is loud, and Kakashi lays his head on the opposite shoulder, slides soothing palms down the back of the other’s shuddering neck and over his back. The sensation, though, hums through every nerve, buzzing heat.
“Are you taking back what you said earlier, Tenzo? About me being pretty?” The younger gasps against his throat, indignant, and Kakashi’s chuckle reverberates through the both of them in a heady thrum.
“No! You’re”--he presses a full kiss to the bared throat, scrapes his teeth to earn himself a sharp intake of breath--“beautiful. Gorgeous. Breathtaking.” His busy hands wind around Kakashi’s waist to pull them closer, the doorknob jostling with the application of force. Ah, he gets it now.
“And you’re drunk.” Kakashi laughs dismissively, head still turned away with a gentle shake but now tilted, offering skin.
“Yeah,” he lifts his head up, cocks it so he can meet Kakashi’s eyes and slips his hands in the back pockets of Kakashi’s jonin outfit, “and you’re still beautiful.”
Dark gaze low lidded, still looking at him like he’s the only thing in the world, like he always has. Electricity sparks in the base of Kakashi’s spine, ears gone the color of the apple blossom that curls involuntarily from beneath Yamato’s sleeves--another quirk of his inebriation--and tickles his lower back. There is the barest hint of an and I will ruin you chasing his spine with that white-blue arousal, with the soft brush of the petals at his back, but he can’t--won’t refute, won’t push away, when he’s looking up so earnestly. When Kakashi feels safe here. When he deserves this, or is, at the very least, trying to convince himself he does.
He ducks his head and presses a warming kiss into his mouth by way of answer, and the younger smiles into it.