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“I’m going to ask you again, Kakashi: what are we doing out here?”
“It’s a very special and very important mission,” Kakashi said, crouching down beside a likely patch of moss in the shade of a tall, broad oak. He carefully searched the leaf litter with his fingers but stood with a sigh when he found nothing.
Yamato followed him through the woods, dressed in his ANBU uniform with his arms folded over his chest. His white mask was perched on the side of his head.
“I don’t recall seeing a mission scroll,” he said as he stepped over a fallen branch. “That’s a little strange, isn’t it?”
Kakashi smiled blithely up at him as he crouched again and repeated his searching.
“Ah. Well, you see, as Hokage, I prefer not to create a paper trail for such things.”
Yamato’s eyebrows were cocked in a very skeptical affect.
“Is that so?”
“As my most trusted ANBU guard, I’m sure you can appreciate the need for the utmost secrecy.”
“Perhaps I could,” Yamato said, “if I knew what on Earth it is that you’re doing and why you felt the need to drag me along for it. In full uniform, I might add.”
“You’re on an official mission from the Hokage,” Kakashi said. “Of course you should be in uniform.”
The truth was that no mission existed. Kakashi had woken that morning restless and unwilling to spend the entire day cooped up in his office plowing through paperwork. He had been struck with an urge for adventure and for the outdoors. It was early September, a week before his thirty-fifth birthday, and he had wanted to be in the woods. And, for Kakashi, when such a spirit of adventure caught hold of him, he invariably wanted to bring Yamato—or Tenzō, as he frequently still thought of him—along for the ride. He considered the man his best friend and the most enjoyable company, even when he was grumbling as he was then. In fact, Kakashi couldn’t deny that he took a certain measure of glee in deliberately aggravating Yamato. He’d always had a mischievous streak and the other man was his favourite victim. Every time that Kakashi successfully provoked him into a long-suffering sigh or a disappointed frown he couldn’t help but smile behind his mask (though always careful to keep Yamato from noticing). It was just so satisfying.
Requesting Yamato in uniform was part of the provocation, of course. He saw his kōhai try to hold back a shiver as a chill autumn wind passed them by.
“You really should have brought a travelling cloak, Tenzō,” he said perfectly innocently.
Yamato’s frown became an outright glare.
Kakashi started to feel slightly guilty. As much as he enjoyed teasing Yamato, he didn’t want to make the man completely miserable. It was a fine balance, one that Yamato’s almost endless patience normally ensured that he was on the right side of, but it was getting chilly and Yamato really did have no idea of what they were doing in the woods and although Kakashi was fairly confident that the man wouldn’t leave if he asked him not to, it wasn’t very fair.
“I suppose, in retrospect, calling this an official mission may be a slight exaggeration,” he said.
Yamato glared at him harder.
“How slight?”
“I would say total,” Kakashi confessed.
“There’s no mission?”
“Not as such.”
Yamato released a sigh so long that it sounded like he had been holding it since the day the two of them had met.
“Why are we in the woods, Kakashi?”
“We’re looking for enokitake.”
Yamato blinked several times.
Kakashi beamed at him.
“We’re looking...for mushrooms?”
“I had a craving,” Kakashi said, as though that justified it completely.
“And we’re dressed like this because…?”
Kakashi swung his white Hokage robes back over his shoulders.
“That part may have been just for fun.”
Yamato let out another sigh, but his stoic facade was already starting to crack.
“I think the least that you could do would be to lend me your robe, senpai.”
“That’s fair,” Kakashi said, immediately shrugging off the aforementioned item. He wrapped it around Yamato’s shoulders and the other man gave him a sly smile as he fastened it around his throat.
“You really shouldn’t keep wearing this thing around.”
“I think I’m mandated to wear it for at least six weeks a year,” Kakashi said, walking deeper into the trees.
“You wouldn’t prefer to do so while you’re in the office rather than dragging through the mud?”
“It’s keeping you warm, isn’t it?”
Yamato’s smile broadened. “Touché.”
Kakashi looked back at his friend over his shoulder. “You’ll help me look?”
“I suppose I’m here, now,” Yamato said, making a show of sufferance. His body language, however, was noticeably more relaxed than it had been. His arms hung loose at his sides as he followed the Rokudaime through the woods. Kakashi smiled to himself and continued on.
“Have I ever made you my enokitake pancakes, Tenzō?”
“You’ve never cooked for me at all, senpai.”
“I haven’t?” Kakashi stopped walking, frowning with his hand to his chin. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“In more than fifteen years,” Yamato said solemnly. “You have never once cooked for me.”
“This has been a grave oversight,” Kakashi said. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Yamato gave him a slightly odd look, although he was more than used to his eccentricities.
“I didn’t realise that it would matter to you. It’s not like you ever threw a dinner party. When would you have cooked for me?”
Kakashi considered it as he crouched beneath another tree to search amongst the roots. He imagined inviting Yamato over for dinner and the two of them enjoying a meal together in his apartment. It would have been nice, he thought. Pleasant.
“I should have,” he murmured, more to himself than to Yamato.
It wasn’t only that he’d never had Yamato over for dinner, he realised: he’d never had anybody over. He’d never socialised, full stop. He considered Yamato his best friend but he could count on the fingers of one hand the occasions on which the two of them had spent any time together outside of missions. His brow creased as he mulled that over as well. It wasn’t that he’d never wanted to socialise, with Yamato or with his other friends. There had just never seemed to be the time .
“I’m a very good cook,” he said casually, smiling as he finally spied his prize amongst the roots and fallen leaves. “I had to feed myself from the age of six, so I learned fast.”
Yamato crouched down beside him, withdrawing a kunai and carefully cutting free a cluster of the thin mushrooms.
“A lot of children that age would have simply lived on convenience food.”
“Like Naruto does, you mean?” Kakashi wrinkled his nose. “No thank you. Too much food like that makes me sick.”
“I remember,” Yamato said. “The undercover missions when we lived out of hotels for days. You used to sneak away to markets just to buy fresh fruit and vegetables.”
“I hated those missions,” Kakashi said. “I’d rather eat soldier pills than choke down konbini bento for a week straight.”
“You sound like such a snob,” Yamato said, moving a little closer to cut away another bunch of enokitake.
“I appreciate freshly made meals,” Kakashi said, a little haughtily.
“But you’ve never made one for me.”
“Do you cook much, Tenzō?”
Yamato laughed. “No, God no. I’m useless at it.”
Kakashi stretched to get at more of the mushrooms. He almost overbalanced and Yamato caught his shoulder and righted him without a word.
“You’re so good at following schedules and instructions, I would have imagined that cooking from a recipe would be the easiest thing in the world for you.”
“It doesn’t translate at all,” Yamato said. “I suppose I just don’t understand the ingredients the way that you do.”
Kakashi drifted into thought again. More than fifteen years and he was still learning new things about the other man. He dimly realised that they were crouched close enough together that he could feel Yamato’s breath against his ear when he straightened up. It was a comfortable closeness and he felt no inclination to move away.
“You have attempted to cook, though?”
“A handful of times,” Yamato confirmed. “There was the time that I tried to stir-fry some beansprouts and almost burned down my kitchen.”
“How?”
“Somebody had told me that adding water to the wok helps the vegetables to cook without burning,” Yamato said, rubbing the back of his neck. “What they didn’t tell me was that you have to wait until the vegetables are in the wok as well before you add it.”
Kakashi stared at him incredulously. “You didn’t.”
“Add water directly to a wok full of hot oil?” Yamato grinned sheepishly down at the small pile of mushrooms that he had amassed. “I’m afraid so.”
Kakashi sat back on his heels. “Well.”
“In my defence, I was twenty-one,” Yamato said.
“That’s no defence at all. You were in ANBU from fourteen.”
“Eating soldier pills and konbini bento,” Yamato said.
“I should have taught you better,” Kakashi lamented. “I feel that this is a terrible failure of mine.”
They both stood. Kakashi snatched a trailing edge of the Hokage robe that Yamato now wore and dumped his handful of mushrooms onto the fabric, then pushed the bundle towards Yamato.
“Here. Carry these.”
Yamato snorted but added his own picked mushrooms to the pile and accepted the bundle.
They began the walk out of the woods and Kakashi allowed his mind to idle on their conversation. He began to conjure up pleasant imaginings.
It would have been nice to teach Yamato how to cook, he thought. His friend had always been a remarkably quick study and Kakashi didn’t doubt that he would have picked up the basics in no time. They would have been awfully cramped in either one of their kitchens, though. He pictured Yamato in his kitchen and imagined dancing around him to get at drawers and cupboards. It really would be a very tight squeeze. He’d almost certainly bump into the other man as they tried to maneuver in the limited space. His hand might accidentally trail over Yamato’s back and cause the younger man to startle and drop the pepper shaker right into the soup. Kakashi would apologise but he wouldn’t be able to hold in his laughter. Yamato would turn to him, then, trying to frown but laughing as well, both of them boxed in between the refrigerator and the stove. There would be barely any space between them and Yamato might brush against his hand in return as he reached for the salt. Kakashi imagined a blush rising in his kōhai’s face as they stood so close together in the heat of the kitchen, both of them moving even closer and leaning in until—
He drew in a sharp breath as he came back to himself in the woods with Yamato trudging a little way ahead of him.
What in the world had that been about?
He had been thinking about kissing Yamato. Tenzō. He definitely had. But he’d never thought about such a thing before. So why then? Why at all?
As Kakashi wrestled with his apparently brand new attraction, Yamato paused to remove the mask from his head. He cradled the bundle of mushrooms carefully with one arm while he did so as though it were something very precious to him.
It was precious to him, Kakashi understood, because it mattered to Kakashi. Because Kakashi had picked them and entrusted their transport to him. Because Kakashi had asked him to accompany him into the woods and Yamato had accepted without question. Never mind that it had been in the guise of a mission; Yamato knew him better than that by now. He had indulged him. Kakashi knew that now. Yamato had been indulging him for years.
For the first time, as Kakashi watched his kōhai carefully deposit the enokitake into the bowl of his upturned mask, he felt an answering burst of feeling in his chest.
Yamato loved him. It was painfully obvious now. Their entire relationship was founded on Yamato’s love for him; the care he took of him, the loyalty and respect and utterly unwavering support. Yamato had been the sturdy oak that he’d been tethered to for years and he hadn’t even realised as they’d grown so seamlessly alongside each other, shoring each other up.
Yamato looked at home in the woods. Dappled light through the trees cast him in a golden glow and his face was relaxed and content. He looked completely in his element and all of a sudden Kakashi felt like he couldn't breathe properly.
It took him a minute to realise that he was smiling beneath his mask, a big dopey smile because Yamato looked happy and it suited him so completely. And, Kakashi realised, he wanted Yamato to go on being happy. He wanted to be the one who made him smile like that; he wanted them to make each other smile every day. He wanted to cook for Yamato, eat all of his meals with him and do the dishes side by side. He wanted Yamato to build a cabin for the two of them to live in, right here in the woods so that Kakashi could see him every single day surrounded by trees and looking just as he did now, at peace and so devastatingly handsome that Kakashi couldn't stand it.
How in the hell hadn't he noticed any of this before?
Yamato’s brow creased with concern.
"Senpai? Are you feeling alright?"
Kakashi wheezed.
It was as though he was only then realising, after so many years, that Tenzō was no longer a boy but had grown into a man as strong and capable as any other. Tenzō—now Yamato—was, in fact, a good deal stronger and more capable than most people that Kakashi had ever met. Not only that but he was patient, generous, and kind. He was skilled and funny and intelligent, he was good company, his presence was reassuring and... oh .
When had Yamato stopped being only a friend and become the man that he loved?
"Let's have dinner," Kakashi blurted out.
Yamato turned to face him.
"It's a little early, senpai."
He and Yamato were almost always on the same page. He couldn't believe that he was the only one to have been struck by lightning.
"I meant later," he said impatiently. "I want to cook for you tonight."
"You do?" Yamato’s tone was laced with suspicion. "Why?"
Why? Kakashi thought, swallowing down a wild bray of laughter. Because I want to treat you well for once, as well as you’ve always deserved. Because I want to see your face when you eat something delicious. I want to spoil you, cook for you all the time, do something nice for you every day from this moment on. I want to live with you. I think I want to marry you.
He actually clutched his chest, convinced that he had to be having a heart attack. The feelings were so intense that they hurt.
"Kakashi, hey," Yamato said, clearly worried. "What's wrong?"
He fought hard to regain his composure and tried to look nonchalant with his hands in his pockets. They were shaking and he didn't want Yamato to see.
"I'm fine," he said. "Just a little warm. So, dinner? Yes or no."
Yamato hesitated. Kakashi did his best to make his eyes seductive and give him ‘the look’, the one that never failed to get his lunch paid for or his uniforms washed and pressed. His eyes twinkled.
"You want something," Yamato accused. "Is this a bribe, senpai?"
Kakashi sighed, utterly defeated.
"You're right. There is something that I want."
"Oh?"
He actually thought about proposing for an insane moment and his heart seized again.
No. Best to start with something smaller.
Kakashi decided to throw caution completely to the wind.
After a quick glance to ensure that they were still alone, he reached out and took Yamato’s hand. The younger man's eyes went as wide as saucers as Kakashi nimbly peeled off the clawed ANBU glove and let it fall to the leaf-strewn ground. He stroked Yamato’s hand and then raised it up to his face and used one of Yamato’s fingers to draw his mask down just below his mouth.
Kakashi pressed his lips deliberately to the back of Yamato’s hand, letting the contact linger while his eyes remained locked on the other man’s face.
After a long moment he replaced his mask and let Yamato go. The mokuton user stared at his hand in disbelief.
“Let me cook for you?” Kakashi asked again, his voice soft and hopeful.
Yamato refused to look at him and his poor, battered heart threw itself against his ribcage, fearful of being broken with one word.
Then, a brilliant red blush crept up from beneath Yamato’s collar to stain his cheeks. He gave a single, tight nod.
Kakashi went from wounded to weightless.
He took Yamato’s hand again just because he could and the other man snuck the quickest glance at him, his eyes bright with guarded hope.
“Kakashi?”
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Kakashi said sincerely. “Better late than never, ne?”
Yamato let out a shaky breath. He licked his lips. He looked at Kakashi again and his expression hardened to something more determined. Kakashi had half a second to prepare before his kōhai lunged, pushing Kakashi’s mask down a breath before he crushed their mouths clumsily together.
Kakashi gasped and immediately parted his lips which seemed to be too much for poor, flustered Yamato who abruptly pulled away. Kakashi reeled him back in by the hand he was still holding.
“Don’t tease,” he murmured against Yamato’s burning cheek and then captured his lower lip between his front teeth.
Yamato made a soft, pleased sound in his throat and Kakashi became utterly convinced that he was, in fact, having a heart attack. Nothing had ever felt like it, as though his chest would burst from the pressure of everything that came to life inside it just from the briefest, most chaste contact with Yamato’s mouth.
It was thoroughly overwhelming but at the same time he longed for so much more.
“This is something that you want?” he asked, threading his fingers through the short hair at the base of Yamato’s head, letting go of his hand to take hold of his hip instead.
In his arms, Yamato gave a full body shudder. Kakashi turned his face away to grin stupidly down at his feet. He forced it away and raised his head again when Yamato’s hands settled on his shoulders.
“You don’t know how much,” Yamato said and finally drew his tongue over Kakashi’s parted lips.
They kissed as though they were afraid to break the spell, tentative and almost innocent, their mouths separating often as they shared such careful contact. Yamato ended it first, moving back far enough to look Kakashi in the eye.
“I have to ask, senpai...why today? What changed?”
Kakashi hummed as he tried to come up with the right answer. The way that Yamato’s eyes kept flickering down to his uncovered mouth made him smile.
“It was the woods,” he said finally.
Yamato’s brow furrowed.
“The woods?”
“It was the way you looked in the sunlight. The way you gathered mushrooms. It was just...everything, Tenzō. It hit me all at once.”
Yamato was unsuccessful at fighting the huge smile that split his face.
“Oh.”
“It was like I saw you for the first time,” Kakashi said. He moved his fingers gently over Yamato’s scalp until his kōhai made a small sound of pleasure and tilted his head towards the touch.
“You were...brand new,” he said. “But you’ve always been here, haven’t you? I never took the time to notice it all until now.”
Yamato smiled brilliantly at him. Kakashi was already in love with that smile. He couldn’t wait to kiss it onto Yamato’s mouth every single morning.
“I hope you’ll be worth the wait, senpai,” Yamato teased, moving in close enough to rub his nose against Kakashi’s.
The Hokage took a deep breath in, filling his lungs with the smells of the woods, both fresh and musky all at once. Both new and yet achingly familiar. He pressed his hand to Yamato’s armoured chest, over where his heart rested.
“I’ll try my best,” he said and meant it.