| [Oct. 19th, 2013|04:08 am] |
Of all the things in Kakashi’s life worth arguing over, he’d never anticipated his bathing habits making the cut. Or that Naruto would get jealous over his new teammates.
It was—unexpectedly endearing.
And probably not something to be encouraged, but Minato was the touchstone for manners. Kakashi’s job was truth, baby’s first ninja skills, and to come down like the hammer of god on anyone who looked at Naruto sideways.
“You’re a brat,” he told Naruto, who beamed like that was highest praise. Kakashi picked out a slice of pork cutlet from Naruto’s bowl, adding it to his own, and allowed Naruto to steal some chicken in return.
Ryouma leaned back against the bed, watching them both. “Katsuko would kill to be here,” he said, humor threading his voice.
Kakashi pointed a chopstick at him. “No.”
Too late. Naruto’s tiny face was already lifting like a bloodhound catching a new and interesting smell. “Who’s Katsuko?” he demanded. “Did you moonlight with her, too?”
“I did not—there was no moonlighting,” Kakashi said.
“You did help her shower, though,” Ryouma put in helpfully.
Naruto’s eyes widened. “You showered with a girl?”
Now that he thought about it, Kakashi couldn’t remember why he’d ever been worried about Naruto. Or why he’d wanted Ryouma to survive the mission.
“With a soldier, Naruto-kun,” he said, reaching for sanity. “Kunoichi are soldiers first, women second. And only because she needed help standing up.”
“Oh.” Naruto accepted that and chewed it over, along with a bite of pork. “Did she get hurt? Did you get hurt?” he demanded, full attention focusing on Kakashi like a spotlight. He abandoned his food in a scatter of soggy rice across Ryouma’s floor and clambered into Kakashi’s lap, small hands patting over Kakashi’s chest with fierce worry.
Kakashi snorted. “Even for you, that was late on the mark. I’m fine, Naruto-kun. Hey—” He captured Naruto’s wrists before the boy could lift his shirt up. “I’m okay. Took a couple knocks, nothing serious.”
“You got hit on your face,” Naruto insisted, squirming free. He reached for Kakashi’s mask.
Kakashi caught the inquisitive hand again, harder than he meant to. Flexible bones shifted beneath his grip, and Naruto yelped. Kakashi let go like he’d grabbed a flame, but the damage was done. Naruto pulled back, hand clenched to his chest, eyes huge and—dammit—wet, and then he sucker-punched Kakashi in the chin.
Which, okay, hurt about as much as a paper slap, but Naruto followed it up by bursting into tears, and that was much worse.
Kakashi sighed. “Sorry, Naruto-kun,” he said, and, highly aware Ryouma was still watching them, tugged Naruto gently back, one hand between the narrow shoulderblades.
Naruto crumpled against his chest, dissolving into noisy sobs that couldn’t just be about aching knuckles. Helplessly, Kakashi wrapped one arm around the shaking back, and rumpled his fingers through Naruto’s bright hair.
On the bed, Ryouma picked his dinner up in one hand and raised the other, flicking a two-movement handsign that ended in a curling question: Move out?
They should never have moved in, dammit—
Ryouma caught Kakashi’s wince, and shook his head emphatically, pointing to himself. Oh. He wanted to leave. Or wanted to know if he should. Kakashi shaped a quick sign against Naruto’s back: worse.
Ryouma’s dark eyebrows furrowed. Kakashi gave up on trail-code.
“Don’t make me explain why his shiny new video-dealer cleared house,” Kakashi said, over Naruto’s loud, breathless crying. Naruto was a happy kid, generally, but when he went, he really went. If there was a good reason for the tears, Minato’s standing policy was to apply hugs, hang on for the ride, and attempt a rational discussion in the aftermath. Kakashi had tried ordering Naruto out of a crying fit once, when Naruto had trapped his fingers in a door; Rin had nearly taken his hide off.
If the capital had been hit badly, she’d probably been in the hospital since the beginning, treating whatever injured were being funnelled through Konoha. Minato had been at ground zero since day one. |
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