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Cursing the cold that made his hands stiff and the ground slippery with ice, Kakashi bounded towards home.
Their house was located in north central Konoha – he and Sakura had chosen it for its close proximity to the Hokage's tower and the hospital. He'd just dropped off his report so at least this last trip was short. Making his way over the walkways and roofs, he finally landed in front of an enclosed porch. He kicked off the bit of slush that had caught in the spikes of his boots, and started unlacing them, slipping them off by the door. The warmth of the foyer melted into his bones along with a sense of relief.
He was home. She'd left a light on for him.
It was three a.m. Sakura would be asleep, the girls would be asleep, the baby – well his son wasn't a good sleeper, or at least he hadn't been when Kakashi left, but he would probably be out for another hour or two. How much had he grown since his father had left?
Kakashi's latest mission hadn't exactly been a failure; it had been rather drawn out though because of some faulty intelligence. Which was why he hadn't seen his family in a month. Kakashi sighed, and rubbed his remaining eye, avoiding the empty socket on the left. He'd just finished having an argument with the Hokage over some details of the mission, which hadn't been communicated until it was almost too late. The Nanadaime wasn't explaining why things had turned out the way they did, and it made Kakashi wonder if he was protecting someone. If Naruto was covering for Sasuke again.
Maybe it was time to take a break and get away from the politics for a while. Not retirement - a Konoha shinobi didn't retire - but a break might be in order. More than a month, less than a year. A sabbatical. He was forty-five and just past his prime, no one would look at him askance for it. Sakura had told him he needed it. And then she'd said that he was stubborn.
No more stubborn than she was. He shook his head. The woman had gone into labor while she was working on a patient, she'd waited so long to take her maternity leave. At least she'd already been at the hospital.
The soft tatami mats muffled his steps as he passed through the dim parlor, past the kitchen and into the bedroom. He stripped off bits of his uniform as he walked - gloves, hitai-ate, hip packs, coat, shirt, undershirt - dropping it all onto the seat of the chair by the door.
He felt grungy and considered taking a shower, but he really needed to sleep, already floating in a space somewhere between states of consciousness. He pulled on his pajamas knowing in a few hours there would be two pale-haired girls jumping on him, insisting he come see something or another or half-dropping breakfast on him. Sakura would laugh and smile wryly and not ask when he was leaving again, but would get that look in her eyes.
Really, if he took a vacation, she'd probably kiss him so hard it would kill him. But what a pleasant way to die – much better than a kunai to the kidney.
Kakashi slid under the blanket next to her on the futon, careful not to let too much cold air underneath. She shifted, and her hand reached out for his. She sighed contentedly in her sleep once their fingers were interlaced, and he smiled to himself.
Somewhere, in the space between waking and dreaming she was thinking of him.