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Hand clamped over his mouth to muffle his breathing, Minato prayed fervently that he would wake up soon. He was hallucinating, this entire night had been one long, mad fever dream. There was no way that the last few hours had actually happened. It was all a dream. It had to be. Otherwise Minato was going to be the first Kage to die of mortified shame.
This was all Kushina’s fault. Kushina was to blame for all of this. Kushina and her stupid, ridiculous foemance with Uchiha Mikoto. Why Kushina refused to just buy Mikoto flowers when she wanted her girlfriend’s attention like the rest of Konoha’s dating population was a mystery. A frustrating, headache causing mystery. A mystery that contained explosions and resulted in minor civil wars staged in the streets for too often for Minato’s peace of mind. Was this some sort of odd Uzumaki courtship ritual?
… Oh no. What if this was an Uchiha thing instead? Minato’s memories of his Academy classes had just become one thousand times more horrifyingly hilarious.
(Oh kami-sama, what did that say about Obito? What did that say about the Founders? Minato was never going to be able to un-think these things.)
Alright, time to calm down. Think, Minato, how did you end up here?
It started with Kushina crashing into the Hokage’s office, wearing a violet festival yukata and one of her more terrifying grins…
/…/
“Move it or lose it, dandelion-head!” The door bounced off the wall with a bang. “We’re going to be late!”
“… Eh?” Minato flinched back as Kushina slammed a platter of severed fingers down on top of his paperwork. Why did Kushina have a pile of severed fingers on a plate? “Why do you have fingers?”
“Pfft! Your face!” Kushina cackled, pounding her fist against the surface of the desk. “Hoo~! Chill out, pretty boy, it’s just inari sushi. I made it for the party.”
… Oh, yeah. Now that Minato looked closer he could see that the ‘fingers’ were just shaped and decorated rolls, but still, why fingers? Minato squinted at his fiancée in confusion. “What party?”
The village-wide O-Bon Festival was not until tomorrow, and even then Minato was a Clanless orphan. He was more comfortable honouring Kushina’s ancestors than his own, since he had no idea who they were. Minato usually skipped most of the celebrations to get some uninterrupted work done.
… That was a very worrisome smile Kushina was sporting. Minato felt dread creep up his spine as his girlfriend leaned into his pace, eyes and grin equally as crazed as the other. “The Military Police O-Bon Office Party.”
“Kushina, no.” The soul-crushing sense-memory of the Elder Council’s endless bitching about the Military Police getting in the way of their various extra-legal pet projects without actually admitting to said extra-legal pet projects assaulted Minato without mercy. Why was it that the most efficiently run department in this Village seemed to cause him the most problems? Stopping crime should be a good thing! You know, if the old war hawks currently in positions of political power were not the ones breaking Village law and committing low-key treason. “You know the Hokage can’t show favouritism to any one Clan.”
“Kushina, yes. And fuck your favouritism, everyone knows you’ve got a soft spot for Hatake and Uchiha and Nohara. Jounin sensei are predictable that way.” Kushina hauled him out of his chair with impatient hands. “Besides, you aren’t going as the Hokage. You’re escorting me because you’re my loving husband-to-be and Mikoto made sure to let me know that my invitation included a plus-one! I’m not letting that smug bitch win! Now go get changed!”
“I don’t really see how it’s a competition, Kushina.” Resigned to his fate, Minato changed out of his office robes and into the red yukata Kushina had shoved into his arms before the woman resorted to dressing him herself. She had done it before when she thought he had been taking too long.
To think that Minato had originally been glad that Kushina and Mikoto had continued their relationship even after Mikoto had married Fugaku and Kushina had accepted Minato’s proposal. Of course, that was before Minato realized that Kushina and Mikoto’s dating practices were less doing each other’s hair and more grinding each other’s faces into the dirt. More teeth, less flowers. Minato had second-hand mood-whiplash just from listening to Kushina describe her latest Mikoto-dating venture.
Both women had apparently reached an agreement at some point early in their relationship that they were going to carrying on their Clan bloodlines, and that meant husbands. Part of their strange fight-flirting now revolved around comparing said husbands. Minato did not claim to understand them. Still, thank the thousand little gods that Kushina had come to the opinion that Minato was fragile and required gentle handling. Biting kisses had never really been his kink.
“Everything is a competition if you do it right, sunshine.” Kushina sighed happily, eyeing Minato with pleased avarice. “Damn, pretty boy, you look good in my colours. Ha! Take that, Mikoto, I may not be Hokage but I can damn sure marry one!”
“I should hope you’re marrying me for more than my face and my hat.” Dry as dust, Minato accepted the sake bottle Kushina shoved into his hands.
“Well… you aren’t half bad in the sack either.” With a wink, Kushina scooped up her platter of creepy sushi and swept out the door in a flurry of violet silk.
Heaving an aggrieved sigh, Minato followed in her wake, ignoring the snickering of his bodyguards, and the ‘wh-psh’ noise Genma made at his back. Complete with the little hand motion.
Assholes.
/…/
O-Bon was a festival of fire, and the Uchiha loved the flames. Lived and breathed the flickers of light and heat. Minato was reminded of these facts as they walked through the gates of the Uchiha compound. There were lanterns and torches and bonfires everywhere, the temperature at least ten degrees higher than the rest of Konoha.
“Come on, this way.” Kushina knew exactly where she was going, pushing through a smaller gate that proved to be the back way into the Military Police Headquarters, set adjacent to the Main Clan Compound in a token effort to separate the institution from the family. “Mikoto said the party was in the big meeting hall.”
Spirits, it was warm. Minato was already sweating just from the walk up, how much worse would it be inside and packed with people? As Minato mournfully contemplated his looming death-by-heatstroke, Kushina threw open the door to the part hall with her usual exuberance.
Minato choked, eyes wide.
The senbon fell from Genma’s slack mouth.
Raido walked into the doorframe.
Red from collarbone to hairline to the tips of her ears, Kushina had frozen in place.
Now, you see, the thing is, Minato had been aware, mostly, of the fact that each Clan had their own particular traits and ceremonies and traditions and modes of dress. Little things that said ‘I belong to this Clan.’ The Aburame had their high collars. The Inuzuka wore all the furs. The Hyuuga rocked fluttering, draping sleeves. If asked, Minato would have pinned the Uchiha with a preference for wide, loose collars and fans.
Apparently the scandalously low Uchiha necklines were just the appropriate-in-public options for traditional Uchiha fashion because apparently the preferred option for Uchiha was shirtless. And that went for every Uchiha. Even the women.
“Kushina! You made it after all!” Bouncing with excitement, Uchiha Mikoto emerged from the crowd, arms spread in welcome. “Fugaku, look! Kushina and Minato made it!”
“So I see.” Sauntering in Mikoto’s wake, the Chief of Police inclined his head in greeting. “Welcome, all of you.”
“Hngrl.” Eyes glazed, Kushina managed a jerky nod.
Minato waved weakly, too stunned by what he was seeing to hide his wandering eyes. Gold, lots of it. Jewellery chains strung with gemstones and pearls and brightly dyed feathers. Embossed discs set over nipples and navel, every muscle outlined and highlighted and glittering. Barely there silk loincloths held up by intricately beaded obi. Decorated geta laced up to the knee, sheer stockings clinging to firm thighs and fastened under the loincloth with more gold links. A swath of bare inner thigh drawing attention with the drape and fall of semi-sheer cloth.
Well, now Minato understood why Konoha had a history of jealously hoarding the Uchiha close to home.
So much skin everywhere oh hells Minato’s heart was too weak for this he had not been emotionally prepared to see this much of Konoha’s Police Force.
/…/
Kushina eventually managed to pick up her jaw, following after her girlfriend like Mikoto had her on a leash after dropping her creepy-sushi off on the buffet table. The inari fingers fit right in with the eyeball dango and lotus root hearts. There was a lot of red on those plates. Minato had not realized there were that many ways to violate an innocent tomato. All of it lovingly crafted into the shape of organs and severed body parts with all the attention to visual accuracy only an Uchiha could bring to bear.
“It would seem we’ve been abandoned, Hokage-sama.” Fugaku chuckled easily as they watched Kushina’s red hair disappear into the crowd of half-naked glistening Uchiha. “I do hope you don’t object overmuch to my company. It would appear that I have been volunteered as your host for the evening.”
“Minato.” The squeak was embarrassing, but oh gods he had not been ready to see Konoha’s entire internal security force dressed like something out of one of Jiraiya-sensei’s fairytale harem fantasies. Minato cleared his throat, blinking rapidly. “I’m not here as the Hokage tonight, Uchiha-dono, just Kushina’s boyfriend Minato.”
“Well then, Minato.” There was a purr in Fugaku’s voice that was unjust. Who gave the uptight Police Commander permission to be sexy? It should be illegal for a man to look like that and talk in that tone and… where exactly had Minato been going with this? Holy fuck Fugaku smelled good, and his skin was all pale and gleaming and radiating heat. The man acted so cold, usually. Minato had never really been able to see the Uchiha fire in him before. Tonight though… tonight Fugaku burned. “It would only be fair if you called me Fugaku in turn. I see you’ve brought sake. Shall we?”
“Um… sure.” Minato understood so much about Kushina’s jealous rages over Mikoto now. Also why Fugaku had been the only man to not get chased away from Mikoto by the Bloody Red Habanera. “Ah, yeah. Let’s, let’s have a drink. Um. Fugaku.”
Oh gods, who the hell gave the Uchiha Clan Head permission to smile at Minato fucking hells.
/…/
The jewellery looked like a harness, Minato thought, head muzzy with copious amounts of drink and nearly as much sugar. Like you could grab it, and hold on. Twist it around your fist and push…
Ah.
Hm.
Minato did not trust that smile. That smile was far too smug to be trustworthy.
(Where exactly had his bodyguards wandered off to? Oh dear. Minato hoped they managed to survive the night. Uninhibited Uchiha were dangerous to the average man’s health.)
Also? Uchiha jewellery was a lot tougher than it looked.
/…/
“ … Eeee…” Minato whimpered into his palms, blue eyes wide and shocked. His mouth was stale, his head aching from wine and his stomach complaining over too many sweets. The rest of his body was cheerfully crowing of the after-effects and happily used exhaustion that came from sexual satisfaction. Uchiha Fugaku was sprawled facedown, arm slung over Minato’s lap and the pale skin of his broad shoulders liberally marked with love bites and friction burns where chains had snapped under rough handling. “Oh my gods.”
“Shut up.” Mikoto moaned, shoving her head further under Fugaku’s other arm, ignoring the way her husband growled incoherently over being jostled.
“Good party. Best time.” Kushina mumbled, pulling the pillow over her head and curling deeper into her blanket cocoon.
Blinking at his fiancée, and his fiancée’s girlfriend, and his fiancée’s girlfriend’s husband, Minato just gave up. That was it. He was done. Irreverent debauchery for everyone!
(… Minato was never letting Jiraiya-sensei learn about this. He would make it a law. He was the Hokage now. He had that power.)
Flopping back down, Minato curled into Fugaku’s toasty warm side and promptly went back to sleep. Office party hangovers were the worst.
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