Kakashi had gotten into the habit of sitting on the kitchen counter while Naruto cooked, and sometimes she griped about him being in her way, especially when she needed into the cabinet he sat above, but he could tell she appreciated the company. He liked to watch her; the sure, steady movements of her hands, and the confident way she navigated the kitchen… it was different from her normal, clumsy, bull-in-a-china-shop aura. She seemed calm as he watched her bread pork and heat oil, and there was nothing but contentment in her voice as she asked distractedly, "Katsudon is fine, right?"

"Of course," he answered instantly. "Anything I can do to help?"

Sometimes she said yes, and would have him prep vegetables for her, or make rice, but she already had the rice maker going, onions caramelizing in a skillet, and some sort of sauce ready to go in a glass measuring cup. She shook her head. "No thanks, sensei." She deftly tested the oil by flicking a drop of water into it, appearing pleased when it hissed and sputtered on contact. "I've got it."

He hummed, rubbing his socked feet together lazily, enjoying the way the apron he'd gotten her pinched in at her tiny waist. "How was your team building exercise?"

Naruto snorted. "It was fine. Sasuke's still being really weird. He said that he… what was it? That he realized he didn't want to be alone anymore." She pouted, but paused her thoughts as she carefully lowered the meat into the oil with a pair of tongs, having been thoroughly scolded for dropping it at close range with her fingers—but I heal so quick, sensei! wasn't going to cut it. It hissed loudly and, satisfied, she turned and crossed her arms as she leaned back against the counter, just the way he often did, and wasn't that just precious? "He said I'm touch-starved, and offered to let me link arms with him."

Kakashi's mouth went a little dry, and he cleared his throat. "Oh?" He tried to keep his voice normal. "And what did you say?"

The girl shrugged. "I said he's touch-starved, too, and I held his arm. He let Sakura hold his other arm as well, it really was weird. But I think… it has to be good, right? That he's thinking about things other than his brother?"

It was good. Excellent, really. Konoha needed Sasuke, needed him tied down here. Just not to his Naruto specifically. "Sure," he agreed. Then, trying for teasing even as his fingers curled into fists in his pockets, "Do you think he likes you?"

She rolled her eyes at him, and turned around to poke at her onions. "If he does, I must have hit him too hard the last time we sparred, because he'd clearly have to be brain damaged."

Oh, well, hm. "What do you mean by that?" he asked cautiously, wary of stepping into yet another conversation he wasn't equipped for.

Waving her spoon at him over her shoulder, she didn't bother looking at him as she explained matter-of-factly, "Oh, you know, just. Being a damaged, annoying, ugly, skinny girl, who can't even wear shorts in public."

"None of those things are true," Kakashi argued, rather stunned, but she just laughed, poking now at the pork instead.

"Oh, come on, sensei. At least a few of them are objectively true. I can't wear shorts outside of my bedroom, and—"

"You could, though," he countered urgently. "It's not scary, you can just—"

"Sensei, you have ninety-five percent of your skin covered at all times. Do you really think you can coach me on being comfortable showing my legs in public?" Naruto flipped the cutlets deftly, stepping back as the oil popped a little.

"Well, what's stopping you?" Kakashi deflected, because she was absolutely correct and he didn't want her to linger on that fact.

She hummed, and poured the sauce in with the onions. "Well… I don't know, it was that I couldn't shave them, but I think I have that figured out, now. I also only have athletic shorts, and I mostly wear them to sleep in. The big thing, though, is just that the idea of doing it makes me feel nauseous and panicky. Nobody wants to see my legs, anyway. Because, you know. Ugly, skinny, annoying."

"You aren't." She shot him an unimpressed look, and he continued weakly, "Well, you're skinny… but that's not necessarily a bad thing. And you can be a little annoying, sometimes." Then, firmly, "But you aren't ugly."

Naruto scoffed as she opened the refrigerator, withdrawing a couple of eggs that she began to crack into the glass measuring cup she'd emptied into the skillet. "Sensei, you don't have to lie and tell me I'm pretty. Really. It's okay, not everyone gets to be beautiful."

Baffled, all he could think to say was a little, "But you are beautiful," and something about how he said it must have rung true, because her face turned pink as she beat the eggs with a fork. Eager to move the conversation along, he added, "You should wear shorts. And more civilian clothes generally. It would be good for you."

"Why don't you, then?"

Kakashi was stumped for a moment, before remembering that he was the adult, dammit, for better or for worse. "Because I'm old, and set in my ways," he teased her, sidestepping her actual point. "I don't want you to turn out like me. Better to tackle these issues while you're young and malleable."

She snorted. "How old are you, anyway?"

"You don't know?"

The girl shrugged, becoming interested again in her onions and poking at the frying meat. "I mean, I can guess. Are you like, thirty?"

"Maa, be nice. I'm only recently twenty-seven."

Shooting him a wicked smirk over her shoulder, she summarized with a falsely innocent tone, "So basically thirty, then."

"You wound me."

"You'll get over it." Satisfied with her frying, she pulled the meat out and set it on a plate. "That's got to rest for a minute," she said, seemingly to herself as she turned towards him. "… You were already a jōnin when you were my age, huh?" There was something sad in her words, and she didn't quite meet his eye.

"It was wartime. They made us grow up fast," Kakashi reminded her gently. He let himself smile. "That's why I'm so fucked up, and still wearing essentially the same clothes I was wearing when I was six, mask included."

Naruto smiled back, self-deprecating and fond in equal measure. "We can be fucked up together, then, sensei."

He chewed on that as he watched her slice the meat and set it in the skillet with the onions, then pour in the egg. "You have to try to be healthier than I am," he told her after a moment. "Don't make me a bad example."

"Don't be a bad example, then," she teased. "Or at least, listen to me when I try to make you do things you don't want to do. Like earlier today."

Kakashi hummed. It had been good advice. And he'd have to give a little if he expected her to keep tackling things that were hard for her. "Sure," he agreed, rewarded by the pleased look on her face. "But be patient, I'm an old dog."

"So you admit you're old."

"Maa, never mind, if you're going to bully me."

…

Dinner was lovely—was always lovely, Naruto really was a talented cook. And Kakashi always thanked her, often more than once, but somehow it didn't feel sufficient as he washed up after their meal. "Maa, Naruto," he said, and she hummed from where she was sitting at the table, struggling through a book on chakra theory he'd recommended to her. Truthfully, he appreciated her attempt, having resigned himself to explaining it to her even as he'd handed it over. "Thank you, for cooking every night. Before you moved in, it had been a very long time since I'd had a home cooked meal." Kushina had been the last person to serve him something homemade, other than when civilian hosts had fed him and his team on missions.

"No problem," Naruto answered easily, as though it meant nothing to her, and maybe it didn't. He set the last plate on the drying rack and turned to see she hadn't even looked up to answer him. Her brow was scrunched up in the most adorable concentrated, confused look, and she was mouthing along to the words on the page.

Briefly, Kakashi entertained all the things he'd like to do and say to show his appreciation. He'd like to kiss her on the forehead, for starters, or maybe the cheek, and pull her loose hair away from her face, tuck it behind her ear. He'd like to say something like, this just felt like a place I slept in until you moved in. I used to dread coming back here, and now that I know you'll be there when I come home, I look forward to it. Instead, he said, "How's that book treating you?"

"It's gibberish," she answered instantly, finally looking up. "Hey, can I run something by you?"

"Sure." He shrugged, picking up a dish towel to dry his hands with. "Anything."

"Do you think Sasuke was right? About me being touch-starved?"

Oh, well. Hmm. He walked over to her, dragging the chair next to her out with his foot and sitting down, only to immediately wonder why he hadn't sat across from her instead. Stupid. He tossed the towel on the table, pushed his hands into his pockets, and looked at her, taking in her casual posture, her serious eyes. "Do you think so?"

She frowned, looking down at his feet and then back up. "I guess. I do want to be touched, and no one—um, people don't touch me much. Never have." The force of his desire to hold her kept him silent, watching her process her thoughts, and eventually, she spoke again, eyes averted. "I mean, it does make me nervous. When people touch me. Kicks my adrenaline on. Except—" Blue eyes blazed into his. "Except you. It doesn't make me nervous when you touch me, not anymore."

Kakashi swallowed hard, thinking about how little she was, how young, how delicate, how much he wanted to touch her. It still disgusted him, that he felt so much attraction towards a girl barely in her teens, but he couldn't help it, it was immutable. "Oh," he heard himself say, and barely stopped himself from adding anything stupid to it.

"Sasuke said something else," she said, holding eye contact so intensely it made his skin crawl, made panic spring up in his throat, made him feel trapped. He pushed the feeling down, forcing himself to hum, encouraging her to continue. "He said you're the only other person in the village who's as touch-starved as I am."

Naruto was the only person he'd hugged, or been hugged by, in years. His contact with other people was limited almost entirely to fighting, sparring, brushing hands while exchanging objects, correcting his students' form during training, and occasionally fucking bound prostitutes from behind. He hadn't been conscious of craving touch, but maybe that's what this insistent need to be near her and stroke her hair was. Being touch-starved. He was going to make Sasuke run laps the next time he saw him, Kakashi thought vaguely, wondering what the hell he was supposed to say. "And…?"

Finally, she broke eye contact, cheeks flushing that sweet shade of pink that made him want to bite them. "Do the math, sensei. I'm saying… We sit next to each other on the couch every night. What if I just… scoot a little closer?"

Kakashi's brain was misfiring, and he longed desperately for the mask hanging on the hook by the door, for his long-sleeved shirt instead of the tank top he was wearing, for a thousand other barriers between them. Because he wanted that, so badly it scared him. "You want to cuddle?" he heard himself ask, sounding quite confused.

"Only if—" Her eyes flickered up to his, winding him with their beauty in the split second before she lowered them again, hiding them from his view with her long, dark eyelashes. "Only if you want to, sensei."

He ought to say no, but be gentle. Explain that it's not appropriate, and that she should seek out hugs from Iruka and her friends. He should— "Sure."

She looked as surprised as he felt. "What, really?"

Kakashi shrugged convulsively, looking off to the side with the most impassive countenance he could possibly muster. "I'm… supposed to give you things you need. If you need a hug…"

"It's okay." He chanced a glance out of the corner of his eye, and saw her looking at him with affection, her expression soft and her tiny smile fond. "You don't have to say you want to, or do anything. I'll just lean against you, and you pretend you're only putting up with it." He realized he was holding his breath and exhaled shakily, hesitating for just another second before jerking his chin once in a nod. "Cool."

Heart beating loud in his ears, Kakashi found himself leading the way to the living room, feeling as though he were moving through water as he sat in his usual place, and she sat in hers, and he picked up the book he'd been reading the night before, a technical text on edible mushroom identification in the Land of Fire. He didn't process a word of it, staring blankly at the diagram that was supposed to help him differentiate between matsutake and a mildly poisonous lookalike, every last ounce of his attention focused on Naruto, her breathing, her body so close to his.

True to her word, she didn't say anything. She pressed her back against his side, and pulled her knees up to balance her book on, and relaxed against him. She was warm, and she smelled like tangerines, and despite himself, he felt his tension drain away quickly, leaving him calm and content, wondering why this had felt like such a big deal just a moment ago. It was just Naruto. Just his girl.

"You can't tell people I cuddle," he told her several minutes later, when his heart rate was entirely back to normal and it felt like they'd sat together that way a hundred times.

"Wasn't that bad once you tried it, huh?"

"No," he admitted, then, stupidly, he continued, "Maa, I keep forgetting to ask you. Did you manage not to cut yourself earlier?"

Naruto laughed, and it felt like deliverance and downfall at the same time. "Only a little, it was all healed up by the time I got out of the shower. Wanna feel?"

No was the obvious answer, but she didn't wait for it, twisting around and pressing her toes against his thigh as she pulled her pant leg up a few inches, revealing flawlessly smooth, golden skin. Obligingly, he ran a fingertip across it, and refused to process the sensation at all as he said very neutrally, "Good job. Was it as hard as you thought?"

She was already turning back around, pressing up against him again. "Not really, but you weren't kidding about the backs of my knees. Took me a while to realize I should probably be standing up."

Humming his amusement, he tried to sound sympathetic. "My fault, should have specified."

"I'll hold it against you forever. Are you comfy?"

"… Yes. Are you?"

"Yeah."

They lapsed into a warm, companionable silence, broken only by the sound of rustling clothes and turning pages, and it was good. Really good. It was good every night after, too, when they'd come home from dull D-rank missions—picking trash from the river, grocery shopping for little old ladies, catching cats—and she'd settle against him like she belonged there. By the time Thursday rolled around, Naruto had gotten so comfortable that she laid her head in his lap and took a nap when they got back from hours of moving stones to create a raised garden bed. She had no idea, no idea what she did to him, no idea that every touch and every ounce of pressure against his body from her weight felt like a gift, no idea that he spent as much time watching her as he did reading.