A/N: This is a oneshot Kakashi/Hinata story I had drafted forever ago and never finished. It was the inspiration and precursor to The Hokage's Wife. If you enjoy this one, please give The Hokage's Wife a try!
Now that I've finally gotten this one out of my system, I'll be sure to continue on with The Hokage's Wife.
Solace
She pulled the blanket up over herself as she sat up in the bed, doing her best to cover her bare and freshly bruised breasts. Her partner lay beside her equally exposed, his silvery hair disheveled and mask long abandoned. He was more attractive than she thought he would be, and more passionate, too. Only a few hours ago she was a virgin; now she sat deflowered in his bed unsure of how this all came to be.
All along the floor, from the bedroom to the hallway, were her scattered clothes, all of which had been torn off fervently and left behind. She knew she should grab them and dress herself while there was still some dignity left within her. There were no regrets—not really. Body and soul had wanted this—wanted him—and it was only now that her mind was questioning her desires.
They were nothing to each other—hardly even comrades, the gap in skill between them insurmountable. What had made him want her in this capacity she couldn't understand but supposed that it would be unlike a man to refuse a woman so openly offering herself. Cautiously, she removed his arm from her waist, admiring the blood red Anbu tattoo on his shoulder as she did so.
'So, he was in the Anbu after all," she acknowledged.
Giving her one-time lover a last look over, she sighed and proceeded to silently dress.
'How do I look at him now?'
Kakashi was taken aback to wake up alone in his bed knowing he certainly didn't enter the bed alone. Idly, he thought of his petite companion, the way she clung to him and softly moaned his name as he explored every part of her that she would allow. It was reckless of him to have taken her, especially the way that he had, holding nothing back. When he had left his home much earlier that morning, he never expected to return with the young Hyuuga in tow, stealing her virginity and somehow wanting more.
She was an adult, nineteen years old if he recalled, and most definitely consenting, having initiated their first kiss. But she was still young and assuredly off-limits—something he had reminded himself of more and more since the conclusion of the war. He almost couldn't wrap his head around what had transpired between them, but in that moment when she kissed him and stared up at him with her blushing innocent face, he never wanted for anything as much as he wanted her. He could still feel her writhing form beneath him, arching against him with every thrust.
'Where do we go from here?'
Truly, there was no going back, not after having tasted her, but first he'd have to find her.
As she strolled through the village, now well past dark, she embraced the silence it had to offer. Her thoughts lay with the man she had left behind and every touch and kiss that still lingered on her skin. There were traces of him all over her body from the warmth where his fingers trailed to the small, painless bruises his lips left behind. He hadn't been rough with her, nor was he overly gentle, but he was patient and tender, confirming she wanted him to continue and holding her hand. Though she had nothing to compare it to, him being her first of everything, she could tell he was skilled. The way he so easily led her to bed as passions came to rise, removing her clothes with a single hand as the other roamed her figure—she knew she couldn't have been his first. It didn't bother her in the way such a fact may once have.
Once upon a time she had imagined that Naruto would come to notice her and that he would be her first kiss and love. Yet the boy, now a man, had never taken notice of her as a girl or woman and that adoration she held had started to dwindle. She could go weeks without even thinking of him, until she saw him in the street, chasing after Sakura or being pulled left and right by flirtatious girls whose names she never learned. That too hadn't seemed to bother her as it may have some time ago.
'It's all because of him.'
In the time since the war, Hinata had changed substantially. Like many of her peers, she had grown taller and wiser and faced the world with far less naivety. She had been one of the many left brokenhearted at the end of two-day conflict, having lost Neji and a number of comrades she had served on joint missions with over the years. While for some, this loss had strengthened their resolve and desire to be a shinobi, for others like Hinata, it made them wonder if there was another way of life. How could she honor her brother's sacrifice if she never stopped risking the precious life he saved?
To resign from the ranks and leave the shinobi life behind her was unacceptable within the Hyuuga clan. She had only recently earned back a semblance of respect from her father, and it was quickly lost upon her declaration of retirement. As the reluctant Hokage, Kakashi was the first she had told, only it wasn't a matter of formality in his office chambers, but in their unofficial meeting place.
Even without direction in mind, she still found herself drawn to that place. It was the one spot he'd undoubtedly find her—should he want to—and where they first met, at least in her memory
'It was always him.'
She smiled softly to herself. The tattoo upon his shoulder had confirmed those years long suspicions.
Had she been anyone else, Kakashi would have needed to summon his ninken to find her. But this was Hinata and over the last two years he had come to know her well. There were only two places she would go—the Shinobi Memorial Stone, or Neji's grave—and having just spent the night with a man fourteen years her senior, she certainly wouldn't visit Neji.
In the aftermath of the war, Kakashi had found that Hinata had visited Neji every morning like a ritual, one he was all too familiar with. He dared not approach her at first, allowing her to grieve the loss of the boy she considered a brother—a boy who would never truly become a man because time had stopped for him. But as days turned to weeks and weeks became months, he finally understood the worry that his remaining friends had felt for him when he faced the numerous losses of those he considered family.
It was the look on her face that had haunted him—the emptiness in her once kind eyes. Many would say that the white eyes of the Hyuuga clan held no emotion, but Kakashi knew differently. He could still vividly recall her as a genin, nervously reaching out to his student with her homemade ointment. To acknowledge Naruto at a time when the village still overtly despised him—there was something inherently warm about her and her eyes had always shown it. Perhaps that was the reason he intervened in her fight at the chunin exams. The Hinata he had seen kneeled beside Neji's grave was a stark comparison to the girl he protected that day.
He could still recollect exactly what he said to her the first time he approached her in front of Neji's grave.
"You know, this probably isn't what Neji had in mind when he protected you and Naruto. Don't you think he would want you to live your life to the fullest, and not mourn for him every day?" he had told her as he stood over her that day in the cemetery.
Hinata had glanced up at him, her expression hollow and quipped back at him in a manner and tone colder than he ever thought she could. "You're one to talk, Lord Hokage."
She had been right of course. He had only noticed her presence because he, too, had still been coming to the cemetery every day and stopping at the memorial stone after. Some habits never died. He had made it his mission from that day on to see her smile again, not wanting her to travel the same road he had some years before.
Every day he had visited the memorial and the graves of Rin and his parents, and every day he stopped by Neji's grave to stand beside Hinata. They hadn't spoken much, but about a month into his endeavor, she had asked him something that stuck with him since.
"D-do you think there could be… is there another way of life? One where…where being a shinobi…where it's a choice f-for…for people like me?" she questioned back then.
He had understood that for someone in her position, born into a powerful shinobi clan and as the heir apparent, being a shinobi was a given. There wasn't a choice in the matter in the same way his pink-haired student had simply decided she wanted to be a shinobi and wanted to practice medical ninjutsu. He didn't know what path Hinata would have taken if given the choice, but it was unlikely she would have chosen this road over all the rest.
"If this peace is maintained, then in the coming generations, we shinobi may find ourselves obsolete." It sounded like a comfort when he had said it, but even then, Hinata wasn't as naive as she once was.
"But war…it's inevitable, isn't it?"
He wouldn't lie to her—couldn't lie to her. "Probably."
It was after that conversation that he had found Hinata waiting for him by the memorial stone in the mornings that followed. It had perplexed him at first. Wasn't he the one keeping her company?
"I'm…returning the favor. I'm sure…I'm sure they want you to live life to the fullest, too," she had told him.
In the year and a half that had passed since then, they had been together every morning, meeting beside the memorial stone before paying their mutual respects to his family and comrades and her dearest cousin.
Kakashi smiled to himself at the memories. They had come a long way since then, if their recent activities were any indication.
Standing before the memorial stone, Hinata tried to pinpoint when things between them had taken such a turn. She remembered the first time she had come to this memorial—her father having taken her as some sort of life lesson, a preparation for death and loss in the life of the shinobi. At only five years old, she was still very much a child in need of a mother and father and much less so a sensei and clan head. Her father knew no other way of interacting with her.
"Take a good look at this stone," he had said in a demanding manner. "Etched on this stone are the names of all the shinobi who never returned from the battlefield. Their noble sacrifices for the sake of this village will never be forgotten. Remember this as you continue your training: death and loss are inevitable in our way of life. The names of your comrades and clansmen may very well be carved here one day—yours too, if you continue to hesitate as you do."
It was over fourteen years ago, but she knew his speech word for word, even now. More than his speech alone had remained with her. That day in the rain as they stood before the stone, there had been another with them on the opposite side—a young man, if not a boy, with silver hair and a cat-like mast over his face, a sign of his status as member of the Anbu. Though he had said nothing and she couldn't see his face, his body language was clear enough for even a child like herself to decipher—he was mourning.
She hadn't thought of that boy for years after that, not until her mother had passed away when she was just eight years old. There had been no great battle or worthy mission, her mother wasn't even a shinobi any longer. Though kinder and more determined than most, her body was never the strongest and she succumbed to an illness Hinata knew little about.
It was a largely political match, but by chance, love had bloomed between her parents. It had been the first and only time she had seen her father shed even a single tear. Yet it wasn't that image that clung to her memory—it was the boy from the Anbu, there at the cemetery several rows away.
'How many people is he mourning?' she had wondered, though the question was never answered.
Over the years as she would visit her mother, she would see the boy, too, and how he grew taller and broader and moved from grave to grave and back to the memorial. She had never eavesdropped, but knew he spoke to those beyond the world of the living. It was him that made her confident enough to speak aloud to her own mother and not just hold silent prayers confined to her mind.
'I never thanked him for that,' she only now realized. 'But then again, I never knew it was him, not for certain anyway.'
Her visits to her mother had grown less frequent over the years as she entered the academy and her training intensified. During this time, her title as heiress to the clan had been stripped for her lack of skill and willingness to kill. She would join the ranks of the general shinobi population, something the main branch of the Hyuuga simply didn't do. It should have stung more than it had, but she felt an overwhelming relief to no longer be under her father's constant watch. Truth be told, it was another action that had hurt her—his words to her after her first failed mission.
"Never forget that memorial stone. Your name will soon be carved there."
It had been a cold and cruel to say, but looking back, she supposed there was some truth to it, had she continued down the same path.
She had gone to see her mother's grave for the first time in months after that, and decided to see the stone, too, and she, as often was the case, wasn't alone. However, in place of the boy she'd once seen stood a matured man with the same silver hair and a mask that covered the lower half of his face.
'Has he left the anbu?' she had pondered, mulling over whether or not this was the same person. Though he had looked different and older, the body language was very much the same. '
When she saw the tattoo etched into Kakashi's shoulder as she slipped out of the bed, it solidified everything. He was the boy in the Anbu she had seen over the years. It was doubtful he knew the profound impact he had on her, or how she once wondered if he would noticed the addition of her name on the stone, though there was no way he could have know her name.
She hadn't even learned his name until she had seen him again, standing with Team 7 at the chunin exams. "Kakashi-sensei," Naruto had called him. Seven years it had taken for her to learn his name, and nearly fourteen to know for certain it was always him. The memories were bittersweet.
He had saved her from Neji's final strike that day, grabbing his right arm and preventing his palm from crashing into her chest. 'I never thanked him for that either,' she mused. Yet, in a sense, she had returned the favor.
Whenever Team 7 would search for their chronically late sensei, taking to the streets to ask if anyone had seen Kakashi, Hinata would always lie and say she had no idea where the man could be.
Smiling, she recalled one such occasion when Naruto had asked her to use her byakugan to find his lost sensei. Complying with his request, she had activated her blood line limit and scanned the area. Kakashi has been right where he always was. But she had deactivated her byakugan, looked Naruto straight in the eyes, and said, "I don't see him anywhere."
She couldn't think of any other time she had ever spoken to the blonde without stuttering before. When he had finally left, disappointed his sensei was no where to be found, Kiba had asked her why she had lied. Though not certain of his precise location, both Kiba and Akamaru could smell him in the vicinity and made that quite apparent to her.
"B-because even Kakashi-sensei has his secrets."
How was she to know then all the secrets they would come to share? She wondered if this, too, would become a secret she'd bear alone.
As Kakashi reached closer to the memorial stone, he started to wonder just when he went from saving Hinata to feeling saved by her. Was it during their talks of war and loss? Was it when she first laughed in presence, filling the space with joy, or with the first meal she ever made him? He thought of each of those moments, all so small at the time.
The very first time she had cooked him caught him by surprise. It hadn't been anything fancy, a small bento with rice and chicken tempura—his least favorite food, not that she would have known. She had made it as a thank you for his companionship during her intense period of mourning and he had felt terrible after declining it. Any gentleman would have taken it with gratitude. The mortified look on her face over presenting him with his least favorite food was priceless.
"Ah...I-I didn't know...T-tomorrow I'll make something different!" she had awkwardly stumbled, flustered by the blunder. And true to her word, the next day she came with a variety of foods, none of them deep fried. When he asked her why so much, she simply said, "Y-you only told me what you didn't like...so I made more...umm just in case."
He had never eaten so much for lunch in his life, determined to make it up to her. The memory never failed to bring a smile to his face.
It had become routine after that. They'd see each other in the mornings, even if only in passing, and she'd leave him with a bento to take for the afternoon. Everyone who had seen him arrive at the office with his bento in hand had drawn the same conclusions—he had a secret girlfriend. Only Shikamaru, his most trusted advisor, had realized that those bento boxes were prepared by Hinata, having one of his own every now and again when he stayed with Kurenai.
"Of course yours would have more meat," the young Nara had scoffed. "You know, Hinata wakes up at the crack of dawn to make these. So much noise in the kitchen, I'm up before my alarm every time. It's a real drag."
Kakashi had been confused by the statement and raised his brow at his young advisor.
It was only then that Shikamaru had told him how Hinata had been expelled from the Hyuuga Estate upon her recent registration. He couldn't believe that Hinata never told him she was staying with Kurenai—there was a lot she likely didn't tell him. Shikamaru never said why he had divulged it to him, but he now speculated that even then, Shikamaru was more aware of their growing relationship than they were.
He had gone to Kurenai's apartment after that. His crimson-eyed former comrade had smirked at him as she opened the door. "I was wondering when you'd show up," she had teased. There was no need to ask if Hinata was there, Kurenai was already calling her over.
It was starting then that the two began their nightly walks where they confided in one another, beginning with the tale of her father requesting she leave the compound. Kakashi wasn't a father, but he had one, once upon a time, and he couldn't picture his father, a man who compromised a mission to save his comrades, ever doing the same. Though he hadn't told Hinata exactly that, he did share his own struggles with understanding his father among other parts of his life.
The nightly walks grew earlier over time, with Kakashi starting to accompany her on her food shopping and other errands. The pair had become a common sight within the village market, and if anyone thought anything of it, they never said.
After her resignation, Hinata had taken up work at the hospital, using her byakugan combined with medical ninjutsu to assist in surgery and the use of prosthetics. Her eyes could see the nerves and tenketsu, allowing her to connect the amputee to their prosthetic in ways that others couldn't. It was still experimental, but from what she had told him, she was happy to be working in this field, repairing the damages done from the war and prior conflicts. He couldn't remember exactly when, but at some point, he had started meet her at the end of her shifts as he left the Hokage office.
Last night had been one of those nights. Shortly into their walk, not more than three blocks from the hospital, the already steel colored sky had started to rain down upon them. The rain came heavily, an unexpected flash flood. Though Hinata had an umbrella with her, it wasn't enough to stand up to the aggressive winds that came with the rain.
"My house is closer," he had suggested and the two had made a run for his home.
He had led her by the hand, knowing she didn't know the way. Most people didn't. Unlike the previous kage, Kakashi had yet to take up residence in the Hokage Tower. The renovations had only just finished, constantly being delayed while they focused on more important infrastructure and residential areas for the growing population. Hinata and Kurenai hadn't been the only ones to leave the general forces.
When they had arrived at his home, he said what he always had, "I'm home." He hadn't been expecting an answer—no one else lived there—but Hinata's soft voice responded, echoing a bit through the empty house, "Welcome home, Kakashi."
He was still shocked that she had said it so fluidly, and even more shocked by the way it had made him feel. It had felt so natural and warm. How many years had it been since someone had welcomed him home?
"S-shall I cook something then?" she had offered. He could still see her face from then, her hair dripping wet and face still a little flushed from the sprint, or possibly just shyness over being in a man's home.
He couldn't remember his exact response to her, but recalled how easily she had moved through his kitchen, preparing his favorite, miso-glazed eggplant.
'When did I tell her that was my favorite?' he wondered as he neared the memorial. It was probably mentioned offhand and she had simply remembered it when she saw the ingredients.
He chuckled to himself as he remembered what happened next, when he had taken off his mask to eat and she had frozen in place, a rosy filling her cheeks.
"Y-your face..." she had started as he laughed.
"Handsome isn't it?" It had been said in jest, but her face had flushed even deeper.
"Y-yes, it is," she had answered. Somehow that had made his own face feel warm as they shared diner for the first time.
Kakashi smiled at the thought that it wasn't the only "first" they had shared. The smile lingered beneath his mask as he approached the memorial some few meters away.
As she eyed the memorial, she continued to mull over what would happen between the two of them now that they had crossed that boundary. She wondered what it was she felt toward him, whether it was love or lust or something in between. Love wasn't something she had a great deal of experience with, at least not with a happy ending.
She had loved her mother, and she had died. When she and Neji had reached a point of mutual familial love, he had died, too. Then there was Naruto and it was hard to say if that was truly love or not. It was Shino who had calmly told her one day that she should think about why she loved Naruto, implying that perhaps what she felt toward him was based not off genuine experience but a glorified perception of who he was. Shino had been right. Everything she loved about him was superficial—when had they ever really interacted?
Kakashi was different. They never said they were lovers or even friends for that matter, but they were nearly always together. She knew his favorite foods and the way his eyes would crinkle and close as he'd smile beneath his mask. He had told her stories of his childhood, the loss of his father and how he was certain he had met him in the brief time he spent on the border between life and death. It had given her hope that she'd certainly meet Neji again one day to thank him. Though it was their shared losses that had brought them together in the first place, it was a sense of belonging that kept her beside him.
Moving her hair away from her face as the wind rustled through it, she remembered the way Kakashi had done the same only hours prior. It was just after they finished dinner and she had begun washing the dishes. The still maskless Kakashi had insisted on helping her, refusing to let her do the chore alone. The mundane task had somehow become intimate, as their hands continued to brush against one another as she'd pass him the clean plate or utensil to dry. Her hair had continued to slip from behind her ears and she leaned over the sink. When she had brushed it back for the final time, soap suds from her hand had made their way into her hair.
"Ah, Hinata, you have some foam," Kakashi had informed her as he proceeded to run his hand against her face and into to her hair to wipe out the suds.
She didn't know why she had done it even now, but she had closed all distance between them and placed her lips over his. It had been bold of her, yet entirely thoughtless and without motive—it had just happened. Pulling away hurriedly, she had awkwardly tried to apologizs.
"S-sorry...I-I"
But she never had the chance to finish her sentence because Kakashi had crashed his mouth back against hers. Never did occur to her that he would kiss her back. Her lips had barely grazed his being as chaste a kiss as could be, but his had been firm and deep and wanting, with his tongue gliding along her mouth. It had been a surprise, but she hadn't hesitated to meet his pacing. It wasn't long before their kisses had escalated to more, his hands traveling underneath the hem of her shirt and her own hands finding their way into his hair. It was a mystery how she had ended up pinned against his bedroom door with her shirt upon the ground as she stood clad in her bra, his hands reaching to unclip it as she gasped. That was all it had taken for him to pull away.
"Hinata, I may have taken this too far, so just tell me-"
She hadn't let him finish either, returning his gesture from before as she leaned back into him and allowed her bra to slip down. It was all the confirmation he needed and just like that, she had given him all she had to offer, a dull pain still felt between her legs.
She could feel his presence behind her now, snapping her out of her thoughts; she always knew when he was there.
"I don't have any regrets, you know," she affirmed calmly, her back still to him.
"Then why take off in the middle of the night?" he asked.
Kakashi felt a sense of relief wash over him as Hinata stated that she held no regrets. Part of him worried he may have scared her or even worse, hurt her. The two had gone from never so much as holding hands to a passionate display in bed in a single night. Waking up alone left him with a feeling of desperation he couldn't describe. If she had no regrets, he couldn't understand why she'd leave before dawn.
He watched as she finally turned to face him, her nose a little pink from the chill of the night air. She really was quite beautiful.
"I-I...I just didn't know what to say...o-or do. Or even where we'd go from here."
Her fears were no different than his own. He sighed, reaching for her hand and holding it tight within his own.
"Stay with me." The words came out more commanding than he intended. He pulled her close to him, holding her head beneath his chin. "My house big enough for two. Just stay. Stay with me. The rest we can figure out." Even after her excursion, her hair still smelled floral.
He felt her hand grip the fabric of his shirt. "W-will you be...okay with me?"
Holding her tighter, he easily answered her question. "There's no one else I want." It was the truth and that was all there was to it. It didn't matter precisely when or exactly how, but he had fallen in love with her and would not allow no one else to have her. He'd tell her, someday soon he told himself, but for now, he just needed her home, in his arms, back in his bed, where she belonged.
"Let's go home, Hinata."
They walked back to the house hand-in-hand, neither addressing what they were, only where they would go. Tomorrow they would tell Kurenai that Hinata would be moving in with Kakashi. Somehow, neither of them believed that she would be very surprised. It seemed those around them had already known what they'd been too afraid to admit to each other, that they were in love, having found solace in each other's presence.
It seemed only natural then, to everyone who had come to know them, that the Hokage had take the former Hyuuga heiress as his wife.
