Work Text:
Clad in only a yukata, Sakura enters their room, sliding the shoji door shut behind her. "I brought you the newspaper… darling."
As soon as the endearment falls from her lips, Kakashi pauses, the last bite of the homemade chocolate Sakura made for him for Valentine's is halfway to his mouth.
He's been called many things in his lifetime. Asshole. Bastard. Bakakashi. Friend-Killer. Cold-blooded. Copy Ninja. Kakashi of the Sharingan. Old man.
But never darling. That is new.
He supposes it comes with the territory of being married now.
Lowering his book, he finishes the chocolate, moves to turn away from the Land of Hot Springs' mountain views and looks at her. Amused, his voice is casual as he asks, "What was that?"
Sakura's cheeks flush hot. Setting the newspaper down on the table, she holds up her hands, flustered. "I-I mean… since we're married now, I'm allowed to call you that, but… is it too weird for you?" She fidgets and hastens to add, "If you don't like it, I can stop saying it—"
At lightning speed, Kakashi lurches to his feet and appears in front of her. He reaches out to catch her wrists, calloused fingers brushing against her pulse thundering erratically beneath her skin, soft and warm. The movement forces her to remain still, quieting her.
"Sakura."
Bright green eyes flick up to meet his.
Kakashi smiles. "I like it. You should say it more often."
He releases her wrists. A hand snakes around her waist while his other hand gently caresses her face, the pad of his thumb grazing her bottom lip.
"Is that so?" Leaning in, her hands rest on his chest, lips curving in a coy smile. "Then maybe I will, darling."
The word falls freely now, without hesitation, as if it has always belonged there—by his beautiful wife.
(If this is a dream, another Infinite Tsukiyomi, he never wants to wake up from it.)
Kakashi chuckles. A blush spreads across his face, but there's no mask for him to hide behind. He slides his hand into her hair and drops a kiss to the seal on her forehead, distracting her while his lips glide across her face. Another kiss to her cheek. Her mouth.
"Good," he murmurs, his eyes half-lidded, drawing her lips back to his.
The kiss is slow and soft and tender. As Kakashi's tongue strokes over her bottom lip, traces the seam of her mouth, Sakura's lips part. Her grip on his yukata tightens, yanking him forward.
Laughter rolls from his chest as he tilts her head back and deepens the kiss. Lets his tongue trace over hers, his hand running up and down her back. The sound Sakura makes into his mouth is cute. His Sakura is so cute. There isn't enough adjectives to describe how wonderful his wife is.
When they finally break for air, they're both panting, breathless. Their bodies are flushed together with only the thin cotton of their robes separating them. He pushes the collar of her yukata aside to press his lips on the curve of her shoulder—right next to one of the many kiss marks he had given her last night—and leans in to whisper in her ear.
"Let's go enjoy our private onsen. It is our honeymoon after all, and I intend to spend every moment of it with you, Sakura."