Work Text:
It’s the way it’s written in ink, black and cemented into a fact, etched into skin and never to fade.
It’s the way it’s said, whispers in the night or yells in the crowd, or even mumbled and incoherent, first words out in the air between two very special people.
It’s the way the universe works, how two people belong together simply because they do, simply because that’s the way things work out.
.
Kakashi is seven, and that’s when he finally decides to ask his father a question that’s been eating at him since as long as he could remember.
“Dad,” the young child starts, small hands on the hem of his father’s shirt as he waits for his father to turn to him. He lifts up the shirt a little, just enough to see the scrawl of black written neatly across the older man’s hipbone.
“What’s this?” Kakashi asks, voice careful as he reads the line over and over again.
Sakumo smiles, and lifts the shirt a little higher, running a thumb over the lines and loops gently, fond smile on the words.
“These are the first words your mother said to me.”
Kakashi continues to keep silent, face impassive as he eyes his father. The man isn’t looking at him anymore, instead, his fond smile is directed towards the black scrawl on his pale skin. His smile is directed towards his soulmate.
“Did you get that tattooed on?” Kakashi asks.
Sakumo grins at him, letting his shirt to fall back down and runs a hand through Kakashi’s fluffy locks.
“No. This- this line has been with me since I was born.” Sakumo lets out a shaky breath. “It has been in my skin for as long as I can remember.”
Kakashi nods, remembering a lesson at the start of the year, where his teacher was explaining to the class about ‘lines’ and ‘scrawls’ and how ‘it would be gifted to them from birth, to find that special someone’.
He remembers the happy squealing and pleased grins from the boy and girls, raising their sleeves, pulling down their socks, brushing their hair out of the way just to show their friends their line.
Kakashi had made no move, instead opting to just sit and stare as his classmates inspected the lines and scrawls and ink scattered across their skin.
He took a deep breath. “Why don’t I have one?” He asks.
Sakumo stops, looking at Kakashi. He’s at lost of what to do, and runs his hand through his hair, something that his father does every time he’s at a lost. “Sorry could you-“
“Why don’t I have a line too, Dad?” Kakashi asks again, this time pointing at his father’s hip, where the line was hidden underneath the older man’s shirt. “I’ve checked.”
Sakumo lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair once, twice, and sinks to his knees, eye-level to Kakashi. He grips his son’s shoulders, tight, tense and very serious.
“Are you sure?”
Kakashi nods.
“Not even a dot? A smudge? A small one? Maybe you’ve missed it?“
Kakashi shakes his head at that. “I’ve checked twice everyday when I wake up and before I go to sleep, Dad.”
Sakumo frowns, running a hand through his hair. His son-his son doesn’t have a mark? A line? A scrawl? Kakashi doesn’t have a soulmate?
Instead, he settles for a small grin, trying to get his nerves to settle and the ebbing worry in his heart to vanish. “Maybe not yet. Maybe they haven’t been born yet, you know?”
Kakashi nods, he doesn’t question who is the ‘they’ in question, because he knows that’s just his father’s way of talking about soulmate.
He doesn’t think about it anymore, though he still diligently checks every spot on his body, standing in front of the mirror for ages before going to bed, feeling a little sad when there’s nothing.
There’s no one.
He doesn’t let his Dad know, though.
.
When Kakashi turns thirteen, he decides to stop. He decides to stop waiting, searching, anticipating and outright pining for marks and scrawls and lines on his body.
Rather, he starts to take pride of his spotless skin, fair skin and strong body. He starts to become independent, a tad too detached, but able to standalone and withstand loneliness.
He ignores the pitying smiles from his friends and throws himself into his studies. He snorts quietly when he hears his friends screaming and crying and breaking down because of their soulmates.
He decides that soulmates aren’t that great after all, when Rin comes into his arms again, after another loud fight with her ‘soulmate’, crying and confused, hurting and sad. He makes her forget about what happened, lies on his side as they lay next to each other, pseudo-cuddling.
He’s glad that he doesn’t have to put himself through the torture chamber of ups and downs, of yes and maybe-nos, of ‘I love you’s’ and ‘I hate you’s’, all the things that came with a soulmate and mark in black on otherwise-perfect skin.
Kakashi lets himself to run a hand through Rin’s hair, dropping light kisses on her sweaty, naked body and ignores the small loops and curves on the back of her neck.
And, as usual, he lets her go in the morning, smiling and crying and jumping back into the arms of her soulmate, whispers of ‘I’m sorry’, ‘I promise’ and ‘I love you’ shared between them.
Kakashi shrugs, and lets himself to indulge in another friend, another one mad and torn apart because of her soulmate.
He’s fine, just like that, with no soulmate and a handful of one-night stands.
(He’s not fine. Just like he’s seven all over again, the only thoughts in his mind is why. Whywhywhy do I not have one too? What do I not have a mark, a line, a scrawl, not even a dot or a smudge? By morning, he pushes these thoughts away and prides himself in his spotless skin and free of soulmate-troubles.)
.
When Kakashi turns twenty-one and about to go to law school, he finds himself in a party that his friends had thrown for him, his friends drunk and sitting beside their significant other. In a drunken haze and a foolish bet, he’s being dared to get a tattoo.
He thinks it’s the stupidest idea ever, but his friends think otherwise, praising each other for their shared genius. Why had they never thought about giving Kakashi a tattoo?
They giggle brokenly, drunk as they pushed him towards a small tattoo stand just by the streets. It’s shady and suspicious, but they’re all halfway drunk out of their minds and can’t walk straight, let alone think straight.
The lady inside is old, smiling and kind as a group of drunk college student trample into her tent, iron grip on their silver-haired friend. She raises and eyebrow as they force him to sit in front of her, amused.
Rin blinks a little, hiccupping and shakes her head. She puts on a small pout, running a rough hand through Kakashi’s fluffy hair before going back to her soulmate’s side.
Kakashi feels like a kid again, with the couple standing behind him like his parents. Never mind that he doesn’t really remember his mother.
“This poor boy here doesn’t have a scrawl,” Rin mumbles sadly, trying to injecting sadness into her voice and succeeding in sounding like a put-off little kid, denied of access into her favourite candy-store.
“So we decided to give him one!” She yells happily, throwing her hands into the air and laughs, falling onto her soulmate’s side. “It’s your birthday present, Kakashi!“
Kakashi nods, watching as they leave, stumbling out of the tent and making a big racket outside with their other friends.
He wonders if tattoo removal services are expensive.
When he turns back to face the old woman in front of him, he’s surprised to see her still smiling at him, waiting for him to speak.
Kakashi shrugs. “I don’t know what I want.”
The lady give him a smile, understanding clear on her face. It’s the first time someone who just hears of his lack of line smile at him without pity. She smiles, like she understands something and knows something, a secret that nobody else knows.
“Maybe you’ll let me surprise you, then?” She asks, getting ready and putting the cartridge in. Kakashi eyes her warily. Then he nods his consent.
Which is really weird, because normally Kakashi would never say yes to something so dubious. Hell, he would never be in a small, shady tent if he wanted to of a tattoo. But he guess it’s because he’s drunk, and his friends outside would just force him in again if he went out without a tattoo.
“Just-just nothing offensive, please.” he mumbles, turning around and lifting his shirt.
The old woman nods, before getting to work.
.
Kakashi is twenty-seven, skin near-spotless, minus the small scrawl-like tattoo on his back, near his right shoulder. He knows what it says, and he avoids craning his neck and looking into the mirror to see the scrawl (tattoo).
He wants to forget about the scrawl-no, tattoo.
Sometimes though, in the safety of the dark and comfortable in his bed, he closes his eyes and let himself be swept away by his thoughts and fantasies.
He plays-pretend like a little kid, making up a world where he would meet a stranger, they’d bump into each other, maybe, somewhere completely random where Kakashi would hardly go to, and then Stranger would blurt out those three words, and Kakashi would chuckle, embarrassed and impossibly happy because those three words have been on him since birth and now Stranger was not Stranger, but Soulmate.
Then he sleeps, wakes up, and takes pride in his near-spotless skin and neat, classy tattoo on his back and goes to work.
.
Half a year into his job, and Kakashi suddenly realises that his tattoo hasn’t faded, which is strange because tattoos fade.
He remembers the old lady, wide, amused eyes and smiling at him, understanding and a secret hidden behind her lips at the tip of her tongue.
She probably told him something, but for the life of Kakashi, he can’t remember. It’s a thought that’s there but not clear, blurred and barely visible. Kakashi wonders what she could have possible told him that night, where he was bent over and a tattoo needle writing a ‘line’ into his skin, mind drunk and friends making racket outside.
He can’t remember. After awhile, he supposes that it’s not important, ignoring the way it lingers just below the surface of consciousness.
(“Don’t worry. Everyone in this world has a soulmate, whether they have a scrawl or not.”)
.
It’s this huge case, one that would make or break his career and Kakashi hasn’t slept in three days, because he wants to become a Senior Partner at the law firm in his thirties and this thing will not fuck up his plans.
So instead of sleeping, Kakashi decides to just replace the much-needed rest with caffeine. By the third day though, he’s tired of the bland, bitter coffee from the office’s pantry and decides to treat himself and go to the nearby cafe that has all the girls (and some guys) in the office gushing about the new barista and his good brew.
It may not be the worst mistake Kakashi has made in his life, but it is the most ridiculous one.
The wait is ridiculous. He’s been standing for ten minutes in line, and it feels like it isn’t moving at all. He needs his caffeine, and then run back to the office for the meeting and this, this, is going to make him late.
All the same, he waits inline because he’d rather not drink the poor-excuse of a coffee in the pantry.
By the time he finally reaches the counter, Kakashi is only awake because he is fuelled by his irritation and anger and everything that’s radiating off him like a heat wave. He huffs silently, running a hand through his hair and mumbles under his breathe.
“Fucking finally.“
He doesn’t notice how the barista frowns, just shoots out his order and start typing on his phone, answering Rin’s questions of where are you, you’re never this late and reading a couple more of emails.
When he finally puts the phone in his pocket, he just wants to grab his coffee and go, slap some bills on the counter and break into a run into the office. He’s near late for the meeting, and he wants to be there early.
He sees the barista smile at him, empty cup in one hand and back sharpie in the other. He tilts his head, as though as asking Kakashi for his name.
Are you fucking serious.
Nevertheless, Kakashi tells him his name, ignores the spelling mistake and finally, finally, grabs his coffee, not even looking at the barista when he places the money on the counter and breaks into a run.
.
Kakashi arrives in the office, a handful of minutes earlier and pissed off. He thinks back to the slow and idiotic barista and wonders what is the guys problem. He was in the service industry, shouldn’t be he, you know? Faster at his work?
He slides into the meeting room with grace and takes a sip of his coffee, half expecting to spit it back out. The kid didn’t look like a decent barista anyway.
He’s forced to swallow, letting a scowl take over his face and opening his file to start the meeting.
Dammit, the coffee’s great.
.
Once again, Kakashi finds himself standing in front of the counter again, waiting to give his order. The counter is empty, and Kakashi wonders why on earth is he still standing there.
He blames it on the darn good coffee.
He lets his index finger tap on the bell again, the sound ringing through the near-empty cafe.
Nothing. Deciding that he had enough, the man decides to leave. He hears a loud thud and the thumping of feet on the polished wooden floor.
Suddenly, he’s jerked backwards, and Kakashi lets out a low growl, shaking his shoulder to get the offending hand off him. He turns around, glaring, and falters a little when he sees a too-bright smile of the barista.
The man lets go, smiling and slightly out of breath. He makes a motion with his hand, and pulls back, using the same hand to motion at the menu behind him, silently asking for Kakashi’s order.
Kakashi spies the man’s nema tag pinned on to the brown apron. Obito.
With a sigh, he turns to face the counter and says his order. Obito’s still smiling, nodding before scribbling something onto the cup.
When he hands Kakashi his coffee, Kakashi is surprised to see the word ‘K’ there, and ‘I’m sorry’ scribbled out in oddly familiar script.
“Thanks.” Kakashi nods, before turning on his back and finding a spot to take a seat.
.
The next time he finds himself in the same cafe, same empty counter, Kakashi is more patient. He lets himself smirk at Obito, who’s doing to same motion again - right hand in a tight fist, drawing circles over his chest. With a frown, Kakashi wonders if he has a heart problem.
His eyes wanders over to Obito’s name tag again, and this time Obito’s wearing a loose shirt with a wide collar, exposing his collarbone and his line scrawled on the pale skin, bending and twisting around the bone in a strangely alluring manner.
And strangely, even long after Kakashi’s had his coffee and walking out of the door and into his office, the image is still in his mind, lovely and clear.
It’s all oddly familiar and it bugs him the entire day.
It’s when he’s in the middle of writing down some notes for his next big case when he realises, with a start, that it’s his handwriting etched out all over Obito’s skin, words ‘fucking finally’ in plain sight, mocking and visible.
.
After the case, Kakashi walks up to the empty counter, and before his index finger can hit the bell, he can hear the thumping of footsteps and Obito’s smile is there again, bright and happy.
Kakashi refuses to think the possible reasons for Obito smiling like he’s just seen his elusive soulmate.
(Even if it’s because Kakashi is his soulmate. Maybe. Probably. Extremely likely.)
Obito smiles, does the same fist-over-chest motion and then silently asks him for his order.
.
Kakashi feels the weight of his tattoo, aware of its position and remembers every single loop, smooth and angular and the three words on his back and turns over his coffee cup, the words ‘I love you’ written in plain sight. He doesn’t know which is more ridiculous, the fact that this idiot of a barista is confessing (??) to him by writing on a coffee cup, or that the words are written in the exact same handwriting as those in his back.
Or maybe, it’s the fact that his heart skips a beat, there’s giddy happiness that makes him want to dance and there’s a stupid grin on his face, the ones he sees on his friends who had found their soulmates, the ones where they were stupidly in love.