Disclaimer: The day I own Naruto is the day Orochimaru checks himself in for psycho therapy.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Musuko
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Chapter 3
Three year-olds, Arashi thought wearily, should really come with a warning label.
Glancing around at what was recognizable as his son's room only by the well trained eye (didn't Rei just clean in here?), he supposed he should be glad Naruto was showing such early signs of many prized ninja qualities; cleverness, stamina, resourcefulness, dedication, creativity, among other things. He just dearly wished said toddler would use his talent for something other than making as big of a mess as possible as often as possible.
If the current state of his room was any indication, his wish was falling on deft ears.
'Oh, quit complaining!' a little voice in the back of his head told him. 'You love the little hellion and you know it, Blondie!'
The accusation couldn't be truer. Very high maintenance though he was, Arashi wouldn't have Naruto any other way. His sunny smile and clear blue eyes, his frantic giggles when tickled in the right places. His warm, wet kisses and small hands, his messy hair and soft cheeks, just perfect for raspberries. His pure, selfless love.
His boundless energy.
Arashi allowed himself a grin at that last one. He often chased Naruto all over the house, the toddler always just managing to evade capture until Arashi had to resort to ninjutsu to pin the little blob down. Arashi didn't mind, though. It puzzled him how a little boy that barely came up to his knee could have so much energy, but he greatly enjoyed the time to play with his son. And afterward, when he was tired, Naruto would curl up in his favorite napping spot, which happened to be wherever his father's lap was (though on one memorial occasion, it was the top of the refrigerator), and just lie there, watching his father do whatever until he fell asleep.
Speaking of sleeping…
A few golden spikes jutted out proudly from underneath the blankets on the bed. Wading carefully through the sea of clothes, plushies, toys, stuffed animals, picture books, and gods knew what else, Arashi pulled back the covers to reveal a small boy with bright blond hair as unruly as his room, clutching a stuffed frog, sleeping like the dead. Arashi smiled bemusedly down at his son. He'd come to tuck Naruto in and kiss him good night, but the little rugrat had beaten him to it. Him, Konoha's Yellow Flash.
"Only you, Naruto," he chuckled softly, leaning down and gracing his son's temple with a tender kiss.