Infamous Sharingan
Two weeks later, Mother was gone and with her went most of my fears, I have officially settled into the apartment, my room practically as bare as the rest of the place, and Kakashi and I have fallen into a gentle rhythm of avoidance.
Neither of us are very comfortable with the other's presence.
We don’t have a lot of time to really get used to each other, Kakashi leaves early in the day, I assume to work with his Genin, and he doesn’t come back until late.
Kakashi gave me an allowance, he claimed it was for me to use for personal items, feeling uncomfortable with the bareness of my room after my Mother’s fit of rage, and claimed that he would take care of everything else.
At first, he would bring food home from some restaurant in the market every day and we would eat together silently.
I could tell both of us were uncomfortable with the silence, that we both wished to bolt back to our rooms.
But something kept me there, whether it was out of respect or guilt I wasn’t sure.
It kept him there too, a sense of responsibility to eat with me.
At first, I was satisfied, acclimating to the new environment, no longer having maids to take care of things for me was a hard change, but soon I grew irritated with the routine and decided a change was in order.
So I went to the store using my ‘personal money’ to buy everything I need for a nice home-cooked meal.
Kakashi had been surprised when I dropped a plate in front of him and took the take out to the fridge, saving it for lunch the next day.
I vividly remember his confused sputters.
“What-Why-How?” and so on, a light blush peeking out of his black mask.
I just flashed him a smile and sat down across from him, stuffing my face.
Politely I keep my head down, allowing Kakashi to eat in peace, though in my first few days I tried endlessly to get a glimpse.
When we finished eating I had expected him to bounce as he normally does, shutting himself into his room.
But instead, for the first time, he stayed.
Helping put the food away and washing the dishes.
Granted, we never had dirty dishes before with all the take out.
I smiled as I thought back to our teamwork, washing and drying side by side, allowing a gentle companionship to come in between the cracks in our awkward dance around each other.
“How did you do this?” He had asked, voice gentle with hesitancy, like he feared the question would ruin something.
“By buying ingredients and cooking at the time approximately twenty minutes from your arrival.” I said, a teasing tone.
“With what money? You know I didn’t want you worrying about these things. That money should be spent on you.” He said, handing me a plate to dry.
I hummed as I put it away.
“I did spend it on me.” I replied, shrugging.
“How did you even know when I’d be home?” He asked, eyeing me out of the corner of his eye.
I just stared at him incredulously.
“You’re always home at a certain time.” I said, briefly flushing at the word home.
He stopped washing for a second, staring at me like I had grown a second head. I just shrugged at him.
“You weren’t at first. But, I don’t know, you just started showing up at seven every night.”
Kakashi looked away from me and to his hands in the sink, an air of surprise around him.
“I…didn’t even notice.” He said, clearly meaning to speak only to himself.
I wasn’t quite sure what it meant, so I let it slip from the conversation.
“Are you gonna wash that or just soak your fingers?” I asked, bumping him lightly.
He tensed, I wasn’t sure from the touch or the tease, before letting out a bashful chuckle and continued to wash.
I let the memory fade from my mind.
Staring up at the dark ceiling of my room.
After that Kakashi and I haven’t had awkward dinners.
It’s been a week, and sometimes, if training goes particularly well, Kakashi will be home even earlier and help me cook.
Now we discuss his Genin, going over the annoyance and irritation and the pride he feels over them.
I wonder if he even realizes the way his voice shifts just slightly when he speaks of them, radiating pride and love.
Even when he complains.
Bringing my hand up to my chest I gripped the dog tag and ruby charm to my palm.
I wear the tag everywhere, buried under my clothing, and going unnoticed.
He never speaks of it and I say nothing, even as the cool metal constantly reminds me of him, always bringing my thoughts to him when he leaves.
I’ve studied the metal, the engravings.
Sometimes, when conversations lull and the metal feels like it burns against my skin, searching for attention, I want to ask about it, about the name and the ANBU and why he gave it to me.
But every time I would just sigh and forgo any attempts, realizing talking about his past isn’t something he’s willing to bridge yet.
He never asks about my past either, which can sometimes be a blessing, while other times a seed of doubt.
With my mother, I never had to work, all I knew was how to sit still and look pretty, like a porcelain doll.
But now, the need to pull my weight is hitting me like a train. I’m going crazy doing nothing all day, just sitting around and waiting for Kakashi in this bare apartment that doesn’t even have any pictures.
There’s hardly anything to even do.
Frowning, I made a mental note to ask Asuma and Kurenai about work tomorrow.
I was sick of living in the past, under her open-toed polished heel.
Mother always said a proper wife belongs in the home, but I’ve found no pleasure in it.
The only time I cared to be here was when Kakashi and I would sit down and eat.
When he would come walking through the door offering an eye-smile.
Sighing in frustration I attempted to get comfortable, but anxiety seeped into my chest like Oobleck.
It would stream through my body when I attempted to think about anything, running through my veins, but then I would stop thinking for just a second and it would turn to stone.
Huffing I clambered out of bed, fighting with the blankets and attempting to quietly walk down the hall and to the kitchen, running my hand across the clear wall to feel around in the dark.
As I passed Kakashi’s room I paused and tried to be even stealthier.
He was a ninja after all, and I wished my untrained feet wouldn’t wake him up.
I made it just past his room when I heard a whimper.
Halting I listened with bated breath as a groan filtered out of his room.
Curiously I placed my ear to the door. Kakashi gave another painful whimper and I cupped my hand over my mouth.
Quietly I opened the door a crack, not sure what I would see.
But something told me to open the door and find out what was wrong.
The room was dark, but I could just barely make out Kakashi’s form on the bed.
He was laying on his back, arms flailing and helpless sobs wrenched from his throat.
Gasping I ran to his side, completely disregarding his dangerous ninja reflexes.
Before I could even process what was happening, Kakashi had me pinned to the bed beneath him.
His large hands grip both of my wrists, holding them on either side of my head as he pants above me, sitting on my thighs, legs holding me down.
“K-Kakashi?” I asked, nervous about his mental state.
He said nothing, just stared at me. It was too dark to see his face, the shadows obscuring it in place of the mask.
But an eye I didn’t recognize gazed down at me, glinting dangerously. It was blood red and bright against the darkness of the room. Two black commas swirling hypnotically.
I sucked in a breath.
‘The infamous Sharingan.’ I mentally acknowledged, caught in its pretty glow.
But then he was moving, leaning into me until his nose pressed against my jaw, just below my ear.
He trailed lower, leaving a blaze of heat as he moved to the juncture between my neck and shoulder.
I trembled in his hold, anticipation, and fear circulated my system and I unconsciously turned my head, giving him more access, as both a sign of approval and submission.
I fluttered my eyes closed and waited for what was to come next.
Kakashi went boneless.
He laid against me, hands releasing my wrists in favor of lowering himself against me heavily. His one leg sneaking between mine and kicking my legs open so he could snuggle in comfortably.
I blushed, the action throwing me off. He was heavy but in a grounding way, his weight proportioned just right to provide a spread out pressure.
There were no words spoken, just helpless cuddling, and evening out breaths.
Bringing my hands up I brushed my fingers through his hair and gripped his arm.
His warmth lulled me to sleep, anxiety finally letting me rest as his steady breaths grounded me.
I could feel his hot breath on my neck, his lips just grazing my skin.
I felt like they were scorching, heating me in a way I never felt before.
Briefly, before sleep had claimed my tired mind, I wondered if he was meaning to do this, or if he was still in a nightmare induced haze.
Wondered if he would freak when he awoke.
If we would go back to awkward dinners and take out.
If he would stop coming home altogether, finding comfort in another.
And maybe, if I wasn’t so tired I would have corrected myself, repeated the rules we made the first day.
But I simply nuzzled his hair before forgetting blissfully, every worry I ever had.