So I have this WIP that I like fooling around with, and I have an ending in mind but… yeah, no idea about the middle. I’m not sure if there should be a ceremony in Konoha, or I should just jump ahead to the secondary location. Also, idk when, if ever, I will be able to finish it, so I just want to share it for fun with y’all as well.
“I’m having a stroke.”, Iruka whispers, staring at Naruto across the table. Kakashi presses his lips together hard to avoid laughing in front of the unfortunate historian and the cultural attache from the Land of Pines. It is an extremely difficult task. “I must be, because you did not just say what I think you said.”
Their newly anointed hokage’s shoulders drop slightly, sounding a lot more like a frustrated kid trying to get out of trouble than the powerful leader of one of the greatest military forces in the land when he says, “Iruka-sensei. It’s true, I swear! Professor Okuyama here found the documents, and did the research and everything.”
Now normally, documents and historians would have Kakashi rolling on the floor begging for sweet mercy at seven thirty in the morning, but being called in for this? Oh, this was a wonderful start to his second week of retirement. A treasure trove of what to tease the love of his life with has just been dumped right onto his lap, and he just can’t wait to get out of here and begin.
The cultural attache - ah, what was her name? Himiko…? Himako…? H, moves to push the box of said documents towards them with apprehension clear on her face, but Iruka just springs to his feet like it could burn him. Or explode with paint. Honestly, the latter is still not that unlikely despite Naruto having reached ‘adulthood’.
He absently wonders if he could text Gai without looking at his phone, because he needs to prepare so much stuff for this goldmine.
“I refuse to believe this nonsense.”, wow, his beloved is levelling his not-son son with a disappointed look he has most likely been perfecting since the boy started his class. It’s very close to the look Kakashi gets when he forgets to air out the futon, and he wants to howl at the sight.
Their almighty leader sighs, but to his credit doesn’t buckle under the immense pressure. "Come on, don’t make me make it an official mission. All you have to do is put on some fancy clothes while we symbolically give you back. You will even take Kakashi-sensei as your personal bodyguard.”
He almost drops his phone under the table, gaze snapping back to Naruto. Who said anything about him taking a part in this glorious mess?! He is in retirement now, after all, with great big plans, like sleeping until ten and rereading his favorite series and the sacred Icha Icha movie locations trip he has been promising to go on with Gai; they can’t just make him take a cross-country trip like this! Can they?
Is… is Naruto his superior now?
He spends a few horrified seconds contemplating this tragedy his gotten himself into, when the good professor, an elderly woman with thick glasses and rigid posture, pushes a genealogy vehemently under their noses, effectively jerking him away from this trauma. She points a carefully manicured fingernail at the name Umino Iruka, connected by a zigzagging line to one Unabara no Kaoruko, second daughter to the daimyo of the Land of Pines, kidnapped as political leverage.
Also forgotten. Somehow. Kakashi, although not a fan of paperwork, would rather like to reprimand his predecessors for completely losing track of a hostage situation, and the now three hundred year old war they are by all accounts still fighting, since no one can find a peace treaty anywhere. He hopes it wasn’t a previous incarnation of Naruto who was responsible for this.
(What has he done, making Naruto his boss?!)
“A nightmare?”, Iruka tries weakly, “I’m having a nightmare?”
“I’m afraid not, my liege.”
Kakashi still most definitely doesn’t want to go on this diplomatic extravaganza. No sir, he has had enough of these during his stint as hokage. Horrible things, the lot of them, with everything planned minutely, with flowers dipped in politics, with protocol left and right. Ugh. He tries to tell himself that at least he will get to enjoy the company of his sweetheart, but it falls mostly on deaf ears. They have never been the sort to let their relationship out of their home.
True, he is definitely not the one with the short end of the stick for once, lounging about on the comfortable sofa of the penthouse reserved for visiting dignitaries. Yes, some with unfashionable bowl-cuts would even argue that stepping back into the shadows as bodyguard is exactly the sort of thing a man like Kakashi needs. while the especially brought-in tailor, usually working for the daimyo and the highest lords in the land, fusses over Iruka in the other room. Apparently, the man just won’t keep still.
(Well, it’s probably the vicinity of scissors and needles to his arteries that sets a shinobi like Iruka on edge, but telling something like that to Kawauchi-san would just be needlessly rude.)
“There. Finally. Go on, let’s get some second opinions.”
H-san straightens next to him, which is a minor miracle since she’s been sitting like the antithesis of every careful slouch he’s ever performed. He puts down his book to follow her apprehensive gaze to the double doors, which do nothing to dampen his beloved’s sighs of irritation or the loud steps of Kawauchi-san as he throws them open. Oh, this is going to be good, he knows: he just can’t wait to tease the man for being all ~fancy~. Because where is the ever-practically (read: in shinobi gear) dressed principal now, with his fourteen sets of uniform and three vests; the man who refuses to put on any jacket without the appropriate number of hidden pockets? Honestly, the fact that he owns a pair of jeans is a sort of fluke on the universe’s behalf.
Iruka steps into view almost petulantly, and all clever jibes are gone.
(… Kakashi may have a brand new kink here.)
He is wearing a sweeping haori, so long it almost touches the ground, it’s deep-green a pleasant contrast to the blue of his underlying kosode that’s decorated just so with images of pine branches; a delicate silk string keeps it from opening too far, the crests prominent on the long sleeves. The black hakama rustles faintly as he moves - normal length, after much to and fro with H-san, since they both protested that ceremonial double-length ones were far too cumbersome for a shinobi to move around in -, and there is the short sword Kakashi had given him on his belt. His ponytail is the same, but the attendant has carefully powdered his face to cover his scar and there is no hitai-ite to hide his forehead; his disappointed scowl is almost regal by itself, enhanced by the haughty way he holds his fan. His face… oh, it’s chiseled and strong, dark eyes beautiful now that they aren’t overshadowed by the headband.
“You better not open your mouth.”, Iruka points the fan at him with a low growl, and Kakashi decides he most definitely has a terrible new kink.