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Afternoon sunshine filtered through the thick, green canopy, casting multiple shadows along the ground below. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been outside, enjoying the fresh air, taking in the chirping of birds. The man to his right had been the one to free him, to lead him on an excursion to the training grounds, to that familiar lake. He remembered being tossed into it and dragging himself out, his clothing soaked, his hair plastered to his forehead. That had been years ago, what felt like centuries ago. He'd broken his right arm then, for the third time, and his elbow still clicked. He should have been aware of his surroundings, that's what Kakashi had said. He wasn't “cut out” for being a shinobi. Kakashi had hit him so hard that he saw stars, but he had jumped right back into their spar, dusting himself off somewhere along the way. That's what they'd had then. They'd had spars and insults, the only things binding them together. That and Rin. Yes, they'd had Rin. He still recalled the beautiful smile she'd worn, a smile just for him, and he recalled how she'd died. They didn't talk about how she died, but they would, some day, in the dark, tucked into their bed, with soft tones and with heavy hearts. But he didn't want to think about her anymore, not on such a nice day, not with the way the shadows played on his lover's face. They had more than spars and insults. They had something, something so very tangible. Like that special smile that had been just for him, Kakashi was just for him, everything that he needed, everything that he wanted.
“Don't hurt yourself.”
“Shut up, Bakashi!”
“That's mature.”
He scowled and reached out to punch Kakashi's upper arm. The copy nin easily dodged and Obito, cheeks flushed, pretended that he hadn't just missed his mark. He wondered how they'd simply fallen together, how Kakashi had saved him -- no, how they'd saved each other. After all, they'd both needed saving. Kakashi fell in step beside him and pulled out a worn copy of that trashy novel, porn with the barest hint of a plot, and Obito scoffed. He tried to snag the book, but Kakashi caught his hand and laced their fingers together. They walked that way until they met the lake, and then they stood there, Obito staring out at the calm waters and Kakashi reading his book. They'd both needed an escape, however temporary.
“Do,” Obito began, eyes narrowing in on a flock of starlings, “do you think about retirement?”
“Maa, are you saying I'm old?”
Kakashi turned his head, eyes trading in the page of words for Obito's profile. He looked bored, but Obito knew better. There were so many emotions buried just beneath the surface of Kakashi's outer appearance. They'd never talked about retirement before. They were both in their thirties -- they had time -- but the council had brought up the obvious. Shinobi usually died. Obito only knew of a handful of shinobi in retirement, and they'd been forced into retirement. Some part of him wanted Kakashi to retire. He didn't like the way worry gnawed at him whenever a mission deadline came and went. Kakashi was a magnet for trouble. The man's missions changed rank, more often than not, and that left Obito feeling responsible, since he was the one assigning the ex-ANBU missions.
“Mn, it's not that,” Obito finally said.
“Ahh, so then what is it?” Kakashi closed his book with a definite snap and then he joined Obito in staring out at placid waters. “I don't feel like retiring. Maybe in a few years.”
“Alright.”
“That's all it took, huh, Hokage-sama?”
“I’m trying to be serious right now!” Obito huffed and then continued, “I trust you. You'll know when you're done, I guess.”
Kakashi tucked the book back into his vest and released Obito's hand. He knocked his shoulder against Obito's and then crossed his arms over his chest. A breeze rustled the white robes Obito wore, and then dozens of little starlings burst forth from the trees and took off into the autumn sky. How was it autumn and still so damn hot?
“I'll be fine. I always am,” Kakashi said, his voice lower, just words between the two of them.
“I'm allowed to worry about you, both as your Hokage and as your boyfriend.”
“You're already getting grey hair, Obito. You worry too much.”
Kakashi smiled, the expression hidden by his mask, but conveyed through the softening of his eyes. Obito shook, a snarky reply on his tongue, but he swallowed the words and settled for turning his head away. Once more, Obito wondered how he'd been made the Hokage and not the strong man standing to his right. Kakashi had more than earned the position. Kakashi deserved the hat, not him. As if knowing Obito's thoughts, Kakashi reached up, lowered his mask, and pressed a kiss to the knuckles on Obito's right hand. Kakashi hated public displays of affection, so that meant a lot to Obito. Obito moved in front of Kakashi, placed his hands on the man's cheeks and brushed his thumbs over the soft skin. Kakashi arched a brow, but he allowed Obito a moment. The two of them shared a kiss, though Obito's lips were slightly chapped and he tasted like salt from the ramen they'd had for lunch.
“I love you, you bastard.”
Kakashi looked a little uncomfortable. He always was, when it came to verbal expressions of his love. They loved in kisses and caresses. They loved in shared breakfasts and hard sake. Obito didn't need to always hear the words to know he was loved, so he never pushed Kakashi. He'd learned early on that they could both be stubborn, that it never ended well. He loved Kakashi. He loved the man in ways that words couldn't describe. He brushed his thumbs over Kakashi’s cheeks one last time, and then leaned in once more. Even though they’d been together for four years, he savored every moment he spent with the man. Between missions, between responsibilities, they built a peaceful world, one just for the two of them. His hands moved to Kakashi’s chest, then down further, fingers trailing over the green vest.
“Not in public, Obito.”
“I try one time, and you never let me live it down!” Obito scowled, but the expression dissolved. Kakashi had laughed, and he loved it when Kakashi laughed. Embarrassed, Obito moved Kakashi’s mask back into place and took a step back. Arms encircled him, tugging him back, pressing their chests together. Kakashi reached up and removed the hat atop Obito’s head, and Obito snatched it back, only to toss it aside. Again, he heard the laughter he loved, and the mask was lowered once more. Obito kissed along Kakashi’s exposed jaw, lips lingering too long, hot breath fanned out against warm skin.
“I love you, Obito.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you, Obito.”
He wasn’t Obito, not anymore. No, he stopped being Obito a long time ago. But he couldn’t bring himself to correct Kakashi, because there was no point in correcting someone who wasn’t really there. He tipped his head back and looked up at the blue sky overhead. The warmth of Kakashi’s embrace had faded, and all he had left was blue sky. Beside him, Deidara talked about their upcoming mission, something about a village just over the hills. In between words, the chatty blond sucked on flavored ice chips, his lips stained bright red. Tobi’s flavored ice had long ago melted, the remaining blue liquid leaking out of the bottom of the white paper cup. He didn’t know how long they’d been there, seated outside a little roadside cart, their black and red cloaks fluttering around their legs, but it had been long enough for Tobi to daydream, long enough for him to fall in love all over again.
“You said ‘Kakashi’ again, hm.”
“Senpai is taking so long to eat! Let me help!”
He reached over and slapped the cup from Deidara’s hands, then watched as the boy tried to catch the ice with his bare hands. Tobi doubled over with laughter, even through the bittersweet burn of regret. There was no room for love, not anymore. He’d carved that part of himself out a long time ago. It had gone wherever Obito had gone, and perhaps they were together then. And if Tobi whispered Kakashi’s name -- well, no one could really take that away from him.