Kakashi's weeks with Naruto turned into a month, then two, as they settled into the domestic bliss he'd never known he wanted. They cooked and cleaned and ran errands in perfect tandem, trained during the day and cuddled in the evenings, and shared a bed more often than not. It was wonderful. Perfect.

The bed sharing had started off slow, after that first time she'd had a night terror. They came for her rather frequently for a while after that. Sometimes she'd wake up screaming, and he'd end up in her bed, and others, she'd come to him, still shaking as he wrapped himself around her and held her close. They'd had a conversation about a week after it began, in the intimate dark with her hair stuck to his lips and their bare legs tucked against each other. She'd said, We aren't supposed to be doing this, are we? And he'd said, No, we aren't. Then there had been a long, long silence before she sighed, pressed back against him, and said, Well, it's just us here. Who cares. After that, his cautious invitation to preventatively sleep in his bed, offered upon being told she never had nightmares sleeping there, was gratefully accepted.

It was nice getting into bed together, he slept better with her in his arms than he had since before the war, and the nightmares trickled to a stop—for both of them. Win-win.

In the first week or two after he'd dealt with Yoshida, he was called in to perform two more amputations. They'd each been as satisfying as the first, though he never managed to get another one to piss himself. He'd only done one more recently—it had been on a Monday, and he'd let Sasuke tag along to observe on the condition that he didn't tell Naruto—as the investigation petered out. Pakkun only worked with the squad two days a week, as most of their leads had already been tracked down. He was aware of another case coming down the line, held up in the trial phase for reasons unknown to him. Naruto never exactly seemed comfortable with him going, but they didn't fight about it anymore.

Meanwhile, the novelty of the kinship they'd so obviously and visibly found in each other wore off for the community around them. Concern over his closeness to Naruto tapered off into fond amusement about her influence over him, and when brought up, could be easily deflected onto the more obviously problematic relationship Guy had with Lee. No one blinked when she hung herself off his arm, when they appeared alone together in the market or at Ichiraku, or even when he indulged himself in speaking to her softly and touching her hair in public. It felt like getting away with something, even though he hadn't actually crossed any particularly serious lines.

Kakashi endeavored each time he read her journal to wait as long as he possibly could until he did it again, but never made it more than two weeks. Even though most of the recent entries were unremarkable, he enjoyed her little comments immensely. One of his favorites was from a day that Sasuke had pushed her while they were practicing walking on swift-flowing water, sending her sinking beneath the surface. She'd been swept a quarter-mile down the river by the time she managed to pull herself back up onto the surface. The entry for that day read, in its entirety, Sasuke is a little bitch and he fucking knows it.

Naruto gradually relaxed into her femininity, no longer acting like she was in enemy territory when she wore clothes that exposed her arms and legs. She even occasionally made suggestions while he was picking through her slowly expanding wardrobe. Much better though was the genuine joy she derived from spending 'girl time' with the other kunoichi in her peer group, even if she frequently came home from such encounters regaling him with tales of how fiercely she'd needed to fight to avoid a makeover or having her hair curled. (Why these were the hills she was willing to die on, he wasn't sure, but the way she said the word curled suggested it was a dirty word, and he suspected lingering internalized misogyny played a part.) It brought him profound satisfaction to see her become more comfortable in her own skin; it felt like success.

The days passed so pleasantly that he barely noticed them slipping by, and was surprised when he realized preparations for the summer festival had begun already. The decorations going up—paper lanterns and lights on strings—caught his eye as he lazily followed his genin through town to receive their mission for the day.

"Maa, are you all excited for the festival, then?" It was a rather big event, after all, which celebrated the founding of the village. It was loud, and louder still when the fireworks went off. The whole village would be decorated, and everyone would be walking around wearing yukatas and kimonos, eating snacks, dancing, playing games, and generally being very happy and making a lot of noise. Kakashi made a point of staying inside, or, even better, being away on a mission when it came around. He hadn't attended since Minato used to insist on him going, before he made jōnin, and—

His genin were all shaking their heads, though, looking up at him with expressions ranging from grimaces to polite smiles. "Well, no, Kaka-sensei," Sakura explained delicately. "Naruto traditionally hasn't been welcome, so we were going to hang out and play board games instead. Do you want to join us?"

"Not welcome?" His vision narrowed down to the embarrassed hunch of his girl's narrow shoulders, the way she wouldn't turn around to look at him as she kept walking towards headquarters. "That won't do."

"It's not a big deal, sensei, I don't mind—"

Like hell it wasn't. Naruto was an equal member of the village, she should be perfectly welcome at any festival or event. "Maa, well. You're all going, as team-building exercise. That's an order." It would be good for them, he thought. Let them relax and act their age.

"Does that mean you're coming, too?" Naruto asked with a pointed tone, not bothering to turn around. And well, hm. This was backfiring rather quickly.

"I have plans," he answered, going for aloof and mysterious, in the vain hope that none of his annoyingly perceptive genin would call him on the lie.

Naruto snorted, threading her fingers together on the back of her head as she walked. "No, you don't. You asked me if I wanted to help you fix that leak under the bathroom sink after you get back from hanging out with the other jōnin sensei on Saturday. I kinda thought that was weird, but I assumed you were all planning on going to the festival together."

The idea of going to a festival with Guy sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine. They'd have to compete at every damn game and contest on offer, and probably cause some property damage in the process; Kakashi knew this from experience. "Yes," he bluffed, inflectionless. "My plans are with the sink."

"If you're making us go, you really ought to set a good example, sensei."

Kakashi turned a cold stare down at Sasuke. "I don't own a yukata," he lied.

"Yes you do," Naruto corrected. "You're forgetting I do your laundry, sensei, I hang up your vests every week next to a beautiful grey and purple yukata. Now, I, on the other hand, have never even worn one. So if we're using your logic—"

"Hush, Naruto. Don't you think you'll have more fun without me?"

This assumption earned Kakashi three unimpressed looks.

"Maybe," Naruto conceded as she skipped up to open the door for her team. "But then who would buy us snacks?"

"She makes a good point," Sakura told him, mock-seriously, and then they were too busy for any further discussion, sent to guard medical-nin gathering herbs and mushrooms, the exact location of which was a secret due to their potential recreational uses. But he knew the conversation wasn't over, and knew that Naruto was more likely to get her way than not.

Frankly, Kakashi loved that. Looked forward to it, even.

…

They didn't resume the conversation until later that evening, standing side by side in the kitchen as they prepped vegetables and tofu for a stir fry. Naruto didn't bother with any segue; out of companionable silence, all she said was, "You know you're going if you make us go, don't you, 'kashi?"

"I don't want to," Kakashi responded evenly, not looking up from cleaning the leek in his hands. "I'm not big on events, or celebrations, or crowds, or people."

"Or fun," Naruto added, elbowing him. "Do you think I could get away with going in regular clothes?"

Eyeing her curiously, he reasoned, "It'll just make you stand out more. Why did you say you aren't welcome at the festival?"

She shrugged, a jerky, defensive motion that gave her away instantly as uncomfortable and unwilling to talk about it. "You know how people treat me," she deflected. Kakashi didn't answer, letting the silence stretch on; this was a newly acquired technique, which very effectively used Naruto's dislike of silence against her. Sure enough, as a minute of quiet stretched into two, she huffed, and sighed in irritation, "Fine, fine. Okay. I tried to go a few times when I was little. The first time, I made—don't laugh at me, okay?—I tried to make a yukata out of my bedsheets. I have no idea how it must have looked, but luckily, not many people saw me in it, because I got shoved into a mud puddle within a couple minutes of getting there."

Kakashi tried not to make his upset visible to her. She'd take it as pity, and she hated pity. "Some kids?" he guessed, but she shook her head.

"Nah. An adult man."

"What a coward," he spat instantly, unable to keep the anger from tightening his voice. "Bet he felt really big, pushing a little girl into a puddle."

"Eh, not the worst thing random people on the street have done to me," she said, dismissive. "Not by a long shot. Anyway, the next year, I went in my everyday clothes, but none of the venders would talk to me, even though I had saved up some money. The year after that, a woman with a baby told me that out of all of Konoha's holidays, this was the one it was most inappropriate for me to attend. I didn't know what she meant, then, but I guess she was making the argument that since I had destroyed the village, I shouldn't celebrate it." She stepped away from the cutting board to pull out a wok, and he stepped into her place, beginning to slice the leek.

"You didn't do anything," he reminded her gently.

Naruto snorted, glancing up at him from where she was pouring cooking oil into the wok. "It doesn't matter. Anyway, that's why I don't want to go."

"If I go with you, no one will treat you that way." They wouldn't dare. The knife was rather loud each time it hit the cutting board, but taking his aggression out on the leek was helping him keep it out of his tone.

Pleased, she hummed, and shot him a smile. "So it's decided, then, you're joining us for the team building exercise."

"And you're wearing a kimono," he countered. He wasn't particularly upset about being backed into going, having already accepted that Naruto's strong sense of fairness wouldn't allow him to skip it. But making it sound like a concession meant he could bargain, and he wanted to dress her up cute in traditional clothing. Sue him.

Snorting, she asked, "What, like a proper fancy one? I'm not made for silk. Get me a plain old yukata."

She said it with such confidence that Kakashi paused to process what she meant. Not made for silk? "You mean you think you'll tear it?"

"Well, probably that, too, but I meant that I'm just not right for it. Silk isn't made for people like me."

Where the hell was this coming from? Was Naruto genuinely trying to say she wasn't good enough to wear something fine? "I disagree strongly. You would look lovely in silk."

Not bothering to look up from whisking together her sauce, Naruto lifted one shoulder and dropped it, seemingly utterly disinterested in the conversation. "You think I look lovely in everything." Well, hm, yes, that was accurate. "All I'm saying is that gilding something cheap doesn't change what it's made out of."

The knife clattered to the countertop as Kakashi abandoned his forgotten task altogether to focus on his girl. "Cheap?" he heard himself echo in disbelief, each word coming out a tad higher than the last as he demanded, "Did you just call yourself cheap?"

Finally picking up on his tone, her big blue eyes flickered towards him and then away as she cringed into herself. "You don't have to take my low self esteem as a personal insult, Kakashi." But he did, and he told her as much, prompting her to sigh and continue to verbally back herself into a corner. "I know what I am, okay? I work harder than anybody—except maybe Lee—and I'm going to be a great ninja. I'm going to be Hokage. The village will accept me. But that's not going to ever change what I'm made out of."

"That isn't acceptable." He was facing her now, arms crossed, staring at the side of her face, but she wasn't making eye contact, instead focused on testing the heat of the oil in the wok. "You aren't allowed to think that about yourself."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, blue eyes flashing with amusement, and teased, "Is that an order, sir?"

Kakashi knew that wasn't how she meant it. Naruto was referencing their professional relationship, completely innocently. But it was still distracting, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he gathered his thoughts back up. "I won't permit it, Naruto. Take it back."

Naruto laughed out loud at him, moving to add the vegetables to the hot oil. They sputtered and hissed, and she didn't answer him until the task was completed without burning herself. "What, the great Kakashi of the Sharingan believes in take backs? Wouldn't have guessed it."

"Naruto."

"C'mon, 'kashi. You can't make me think what you want me to, it doesn't work like that."

"Naruto."

"Just get me a yukata from the thrift store, I don't need anything spe—"

"Naruto."

Her shoulders slumped, but she didn't look up from stirring their dinner. "Fine, fine, you big baby. What exactly do you want me to say?" she sighed. They'd had similar conversations a few times, she knew the drill, and didn't seem to enjoy groping for what he wanted to hear.

"That you're made of good things, and you deserve good things." It was true, inexorably and objectively. Naruto was precious, came from precious people, and deserved everything she wanted. Kakashi wanted badly to prove it to her, to spoil her rotten.

She was silent long enough that he moved closer, pressing up against her side, and as she always did, she hummed contentedly as she rested some of her weight against him. She never looked up or paused in her movements as she echoed obediently, "I am made of good things, and I deserve good things... Which is why you're going to buy me all the festival treats I've always wanted to try."

"Of course," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head on complete instinct. He froze against her, panicking, but she didn't seem to find it at all disturbing or unusual, merely poking at the veggies and tofu with her wooden spoon to test if they were done. It continuously surprised him, what Naruto would let him do to and around her without any comment. It made him feel awful every time he crossed another boundary he shouldn't have, even as it thrilled him. Mentally adding kisses on the top of the head to the list of ways he had permission to touch her, he added as casually as he could, "Sure. You said you've never worn a kimono or a yukata?"

"Not unless you count my bedsheets," Naruto confirmed as she added her sauce to the wok. "Plate some rice, will you?"

Obeying her, Kakashi briefly let himself stress about how he'd get her into it. Hopefully she knew how to put on a hadajuban and susoyoke, or he'd need to get Kurenai involved. Ahh, actually, he'll probably need to get her involved anyway. He never saw women wear their hair down in traditional dress; it was always pinned up above their collars. Man of many talents he may be, but an elaborate bun was outside his repertoire for the time being.

They set the table in a comfortable conversational lull, Kakashi setting the steaming stir fry in front of each of their chairs while his girl fetched glasses of water and chopsticks. The first bite, consisting of leek, tofu, and pepper, was absolutely lovely, though this came as no surprise; virtually everything Naruto had made for him was wonderful. There had been a few mishaps, of course, especially when she experimented with new techniques, ingredients, or recipes, but he'd happily eat burnt eggs or over-salted salmon any time if he could do it with her. "Really good," he complimented the moment he swallowed. "Thank you for dinner, Naruto."

"You don't have to say thank you every time," she responded with her mouth full, politely shielded from his view by the hand that held her chopsticks. She swallowed, her next bite poised and at the ready, and teased, "It's not like I thank you every time you vacuum."

"Maa, yes, and I feel deeply unappreciated," he rumbled, making a show of slumping morosely over his plate. "I've been considering a divorce."

Naruto erupted into giggling, and he loved how she looked when she was like that. She seemed to sparkle, almost luminous in her vitality and beauty. "Fine, but I'm taking half your shit and keeping the apartment," she bargained, taking another big bite.

Clutching dramatically at his chest, he lamented, "Asuma was right, women are heartless and only after my money."

"Should go after someone your own age next time, then," Naruto returned, with a smile and something just unreadable enough in her eyes that Kakashi wondered for the hundredth time if she knew, spiraling into the same thoughts that had been spinning in his head for weeks. Surely it would be in her diary, if she knew? Unless she also knew he was reading it… "What did you do after training today?"

"Just fixed the sink, since apparently I'm not going to have time to do it on Saturday."

"So you'd already given in before I got home," she observed astutely, and a he felt a hint of heat rise in his cheeks as she pointed her chopsticks at him. "You're weak, sensei."

Kakashi dropped his eyes to his plate, because when it came to her, she was absolutely right. "Maa, well, maybe I'm just choosing my battles. What did you and your teammates get up to this afternoon?"

To his surprise, Naruto groaned, shoulders slumping, and she briefly set her chopsticks on her plate to dig through her pockets, withdrawing two small tubes and a strange pencil with a cap on it. "Mostly just hung out, but then Sakura told me that if I don't learn how to use this stuff before the festival, she was going to pin me down and do a full face of makeup on me. Mascara and eyeliner aren't another one of your hidden skills, are they? I could really use some help."

They weren't, but Kakashi could fix that. "I'll show you tomorrow," he promised, carefully deflecting around the fact that he didn't know how to do it quite yet. He knew exactly how to acquire that knowledge, he just needed to get out of the apartment without her. "I've been asked to consult on an upcoming mission," he half lied; it was true, but he'd taken care of it the day before. "So I'll be gone for an hour or so after dinner. Will you be alright?"

"You know, after seven years of living by myself, I'm just not sure if I'm ready to be home alone for an hour," Naruto mused. "I might crack under the stress."

"You—" he enunciated, pointing with a chopstick just as she had a few minutes before, "—are a brat."

…

Even though it had been nearly a year since the last time they'd had contact, Ume reacted with no surprise whatsoever when Kakashi melted out from the shadows to stand beside her on her usual corner. They'd known each other quite a long time, since he was sixteen or so and she in her early thirties. She had to have crossed forty by then, but she was still just as beautiful, aristocratically featured with an elegant confidence he'd always found attractive. Best of all, she was professional, meticulously discrete, and asked no questions.

"Been a while," she greeted him in a familiar smoky voice. She shot him a canny look, and for a fleeting moment, Kakashi was certain she knew what had been keeping him away. "Been wondering when I'd see my oldest and best client again."

Despite himself, despite his commitment to his girl, arousal prickled in his veins, long conditioning causing him to associate her voice with sex. She was the one who'd taught him how to be a good lover, after all. She'd taught him how to make love, how to fuck, how to give pleasure, and she'd received a good chunk of his paycheck each month for longer than he'd like to admit. Their contact had tapered off after a while, but he still tended to visit a few times a year up until he took on his team. "You look as lovely as always," he returned evenly, and she smirked at him, lips shining red in the lamplight. "I have an unusual request."

"You know what I need to give you a price," she answered evenly.

He did know. They'd negotiated countless deviant acts over the years. "You'll need to bring a discrete friend along," he began, and she interrupted him.

"Male or female?"

"Doesn't matter, but a girl might be easier," he continued smoothly. "No sexual contact, no nudity, no bodily fluids, no pain. I won't be touching either of you or myself."

She turned to him fully, then, looking him up and down. Kakashi wondered what she saw, if she was thinking about the skinny, awkward teenager she'd deflowered more than a decade before. Whatever it was, she didn't reveal it on her elegantly made up face. "That is an unusual request," she acknowledged without even a hint of judgment. "What is it you're after, baby?"

Kakashi only hesitated for a second. Ultimately, though, he trusted Ume more than most of the men and women he'd served on missions with, and he told her what he wanted honestly. "I'd like to watch you put mascara and eyeliner on someone," he admitted, averting his eye over her shoulder. "Using my sharingan. I'll pay your regular hourly rate."

She knew how his eye worked; they'd discussed it, and she'd come up with the idea of using it during sexual encounters. He could consistently make her come in under two minutes, having repeatedly copied her technique and improved his own until it was perfected. There was still no judgment in her perceptive brown eyes, but she knew him, and he knew her, and he could tell she knew what this was about. "This is nonsexual?" she confirmed, sounding like she knew the answer. When he nodded, she hummed, and slid her arm into his, guiding him into the alley. "Come up to my apartment, then. I have a girl staying with me, she'll be a good model."

"She's discrete?"

"I wouldn't involve her if she wasn't, baby. You know that."

It wasn't his first time in Ume's apartment; she'd taken him up a few times over the years, when he'd come back from rough missions impatient and twitchy, with shaking hands. It wasn't particularly big, or nice, but it was tasteful and cozy, and always smelled like cinnamon; she often kept some simmering in a pot of water on the stove. "Kiki!" she called, and it was only a moment before a waifish slip of a girl appeared around the corner. She was in pajamas with her hair pulled back, and her eyes flickered over Kakashi without any trace of apprehension. "This young man is an old friend of mine. He'd like to pay us to show him how to put on makeup. Will you let me demonstrate on you?"

"Thirty percent?" she negotiated to Ume.

Kakashi cleared his throat. "I'm happy to pay her the same amount I'm paying you," he offered, and that was that. He was lead into Ume's well-lit bedroom, where Kiki was promptly seated at the ornate if worn vanity, and the woman he'd come to see opened the top drawer to reveal a veritable collection of tubes, brushes, and other unfamiliar utensils.

"Am I correct in assuming you'd like me to demonstrate a style appropriate to a teenaged girl?" Ume asked, earning a brief glance from Kiki and a stoic nod from Kakashi. So she did know. It wasn't surprising that she'd figured it out, she knew him exceedingly well. "If you're paying for an hour, do you want us to show you how to do some things for her hair, too? Kiki doesn't have quite as much, but the technique will transfer."

"Sure," he agreed, pushing his hitai-ate up onto his head, though for the moment, he kept his eye shut. Ume's smile took on the teasing tilt he knew well, and he braced himself to hear her thoughts on his choices.

"Never thought you'd settle down, baby," she drawled as she tucked Kiki's bangs away from her eyes. "She must be special."

Kakashi stuffed his hands into his pockets, but answered her despite his instinct to deflect or possibly flee. "She is."

"You won't be coming by anymore, will you?" Her tone wasn't exactly sad; maybe nostalgic. They hadn't ever been proper lovers, after all. He'd always paid her for her time with him.

Kakashi shook his head, watching her extract various objects from the drawer. "Not if things go well," he murmured. "But you will always have an ally in me if you need it."

"Just take good care of that sweet little girl," Ume insisted gently. "I've always worried she'd end up out on the corner."

"I will," he swore. "I'll take excellent care of her."