Work Text:
Thud
You lifted your head from your pillow, your ears perking up at the sound of Kakashi's bag dropping on the linoleum floor of the kitchen. Quickly, you stood up, yanking the sheets off from your legs and shuffling your feet quickly towards the sound of a heavy sigh.
In the kitchen, he faced away from you, looking down as he shuffled the mail left out for him in his hands. You watched him for a moment, noticing the tear of his uniform on the back of his upper arm. Between the parted fabric was a small razor like cut, its blood dried. His shoulders sagged in exhaustion.
"You're home," you smiled softly, leaning your body against the door frame. Quickly he turned around, dropping the mail back onto the counter. He sighed in gratitude at the sight of you, a content smile behind his mask.
Without saying anything, he lifted his arms, urging you to come forward and envelope yourself in his chest. You pressed into him, smelling the musk on his skin from a long week away.
"Sorry if I smell," he murmured apologetically, kissing the top of your head.
"Oh, not too bad for you only being away for a week," you laughed, pulling away to look up at him. Your eyes searched his, his eyebrows perched in amusement.
His gaze was tired. Hues of purple painted the thin skin under his waterline. You reached up, rubbing the dirt from his cheek with your thumb. He smiled softly.
You took his hand, yanking him towards the bathroom.
"You should be asleep right now, [y/n]," he reminded you. "You have to be up early for work tomorrow, don't you?"
"Yes," you said, turning the light of the bathroom on. "But I'll be fine."
"I can clean myself," he began to laugh, watching you yank his forehead protector off and toss it on the counter. You reached up, peeling back his mask to reveal a line of dirt where the hem of his mask usually sat.
"Just relax," you smiled, standing up on your toes to plant a soft kiss on his lips. You held his bicep to steady himself. His muscles loosened.
Carefully, you continued to disassemble his uniform piece by piece - his heavy jonin jacket, his kunai thigh case, his gloves. Turning around, you turned the shower head on, letting it warm as you knelt down to begin unraveling the soiled tape on his legs.
"Sit," you ordered calmly, guiding him to the edge of the toilet seat cover. You continued to unravel the tape around his feet and ankles, dirt floating onto your tiled floor. Looking up, his eyes had closed, his shoulders slumped as he attempted to crack his neck.
"Was the mission successful?," you asked him quietly, pulling at the hem of his shirt.
"Mhm," he replied in a murmur, opening his eyes as he lifted his arms up. You slid the shirt off, tossing it to the dirty pile of clothes before returning again to pull off the chain mail undershirt. Underneath, there were thick, ugly bruises on his chest. His arms were littered in scrapes and cuts and you frowned, tracing a finger over them.
You looked back up at him, his eyes watching you intently as you assessed him.
"Did you clean these?" you asked, pointing at a particularly gnarly cut on his bicep. He shook his head, his eyes fluttering closed again. You reached under the bathroom sink, retrieving an overly used bottle of rubbing alcohol and a few cotton balls. Dowsing the cotton balls in alcohol, you carefully dabbed his wounds, hearing a soft hiss come from his mouth.
“Sorry,” you frowned, leaning down to kiss his grimy forehead. You lifted a hand, grazing his jaw and feeling the grey stubble on your finger tips.
"You need a good shave, Hatake," you smiled, discarding the cotton balls in the trash. He chuckled to you, eyes opening.
"I need a good nap, is what I need," he chuckled.
"C'mon," you stood up him, testing the water temperature before peeling his pants away and ushering him under the shower head. You watched him bow his head, the hot water dripping down each strand of silver hair and down his shoulders. Without him noticing, you slipped out of your clothes and under the stream of warm water behind him.
"Oh?" He lifted his head, peering back at you as he sensed your presence behind him.
"Don't get any ideas," you giggled, watching him raise his eyebrows expectantly, "You can barely stay awake now."
"That's true," he agreed, nodding as he rubbed his face in the hot water. You slid a hand up his neck, watching him lean his head back as you began sifting the water through his hair. The first time you had slipped a hand through his hair, you had never suspected how thick it would be. The water barely penetrated its wild form. Carefully, you squeezed out some of his shampoo, rubbing it between your hands and combing it through the clumps of silver on his head. He groaned happily, feeling you massaging his scalp.
You continued to clean him, scrubbing his back with a washcloth and soap and rinsing his body gently. He smiled softly at you when you finished, wrapping yourself in a towel as he dried himself off. You could smell the fresh scent of sandalwood on his body, the satisfying aroma of clean, scrubbed skin in the air.
"I'll shave in the morning," he told you you, pulling on a pair of boxers.
"I can help you," you offered with a smile, tracing a finger down his stubble once again. He grabbed your finger gently, pressing the tips to his chapped lips.
"You've done enough," he whispered tenderly, his voice husky with sleep.
You smiled again at him, letting him hold your hand as you walked him into your bedroom, guiding his sore body under the sheets. He groaned again, his body creaking as he relaxed, stretching his legs out. You crawled back into bed next to him, pushing his damp hair from his forehead. He shifted his head on the pillow, facing you under the dim light of your nightstand lamp. One eye opened, a half, tired smile on his lips.
Leaning your head over, you kissed him gently once, then again, then on his nose. You smiled, feeling his arm snake around your shoulder and pulling you close to him. You traced the curve of his bicep, feeling it flex as he squeezed you.
"I love you," he murmured into your hair. "More than anything."
"I love you too."