Chapter Text
Hound is emotionally feeling like a beached whale eager for the sea of calm surrounding Shisui’s hospital room. Nightshift guard duty is his sole sanctuary from T&I’s paperwork.
It’s all he can do to keep Naruto from getting into the thick of this political nightmare on Sasuke’s behalf. Shikaku solved that neatly by pointing Hound’s adorable little student at the Tsunade retrieval mission as if saying, “look! A distraction!”
Nobody’s ever succeeded at bringing her back, but even Tsunade can’t out-stubborn an Uzumaki. He’ll be fine. This has probably bought Hound five minutes of peace before the new Godaime arrives.
Haha.
Oh man, she’s going to flay him alive.
Intent on taking what peace he can find in the eye of the storm, Hound settles in. If it’s the last thing he accomplishes in this life, he is determined to spend a nice, relaxing guard shift stewing in his guilt under Shisui’s hospital window-
A dove lands on the branch next to him and coos, “Hound. Report to T&I Head Office Two.”
He stares at it, aghast.
“Slacker,” Cat signs at him from just inside Shisui’s room. Hound gestures broadly to the summon as it takes off into the night. He literally can’t control any of this.
Blackbird slips into the window’s shadow across from Cat to properly eye Hound and the summon with disgust. “Let me guess, he’s leaving us to all the work again.”
“Sure is.”
“Wow, what an asshole.”
“Get a load of this guy,” Hare signs from up a nearby tree. “Can’t even stand a little guard duty, too cool to be hanging with freaks like us.”
“Insubordinate,” Hound signs. It is devastatingly ineffective against his beloved team’s heckling.
Tiger leans over the roof edge to blow him a kiss while Blackbird turns the slang code for laughter into a terrible salute. Hare threatens mutiny through oppressive cheer.
“Step lively, taichou.” Cat’s mask tilts eerily in the faint moonlight. “Hurry back to your post.”
“Yeah, go enjoy your social hour on the clock,” Hare jeers as he slips away.
Hound flickers across the rooftops and sighs through two masks. There goes his peaceful evening. It was nice while it lasted. At this point, he should reinstate Shisui’s old rank just to pass off the paperwork documenting when he’s had to abandon his guard post. There are only so many ways to explain that T&I best resembles a kicked anthill because two of Hound’s kohai got frisky with their treason.
Itachi told the interrogators about his new homewrecking teammates.
About-
Well. Itachi repeated what Sasuke said in a separate part of T&I, which had Ibiki dragging Hound down to their depths. The experience was deeply unpleasant. It wasn't even bad because it’s T&I. No, the whole department is unnerving purely because it is run by a surprisingly vicious Yamanaka.
The same Yamanaka looks up warmly when Hound steps into his office for another update. Reports, inventory, and several different forms sprawl across the desk. Hound catches sight of a very long letter titled ‘department expenses’ before the writing blurs. Upon dispelling the illusion out of instinct, Hound is horrified to find it isn't one.
“I wasn't aware there was a Yamanaka technique for this,” he says, because there's no point in pretending innocence when they're both decent shinobi. If he couldn't categorize his surroundings enough to at least check the desk out of habit, he'd be a poor excuse of a jounin, nevermind an ANBU.
“It was created before the founding era,” Inoichi says, refocusing on another blurred-out paper. “Wipes select visual input as they're processed. You are seeing the words, but they're barely arriving at your brain and can't reach memory storage.”
“That's not a genjutsu,” Hound says, and receives no answer. Silence descends in loud explanation between them - the Yamanaka likely made this specifically for use against the Uchiha, then swept it away under the village’s foundation. Hidden, but apparently not forgotten.
Abruptly, Hound realizes that Yamanaka Inoichi is stressed.
Gods and yokai alike bless clans in odd ways that only manifest in select circumstances. The wolf statues dotting Hatake farmland have always been proof enough of this - Hatake are born to hunt. Hound knows few other blessings.
Uchiha, he now suspects, are born to burn or love.
Nohara become earth and cycle.
Inuzuka remain loyal.
Akimichi evolve.
Inoichi proves a horrifying suspicion true in that moment. Yamanaka are blessed by their ancestral deity to go positively bonkers-wild with internal torture techniques when pushed past their limits.
“Your student gave us a new, rather worrying report,” Inoichi says. There is no way for a Yamanaka to miss Hound’s abrupt wariness. This means Inoichi must be both aware and ignoring it when he looks up again from blurred paperwork with the same now-unnervingly warm expression. “Itachi corroborated it.”
Hound takes the file Inoichi gestures at.
Blurred characters swim into precise text.
Obito.
Hound is less aware of paper crinkling under his gloves than of his own roaring heartbeat. He scans the words with Obito's own eye, trusting he'll want the exact details later. For the moment he has nothing but a hysterical thought that he still owes Obito an explanation about why he's alive but Rin isn't.
The moment Obito’s name pops up in Itachi's report does not help.
At all.
He's handing the file back to Inoichi when chakra pulses through his ANBU tattoo, coordinates lining up with the hospital.
Hound is out the window before he registers moving. He's not the fastest shinobi in Konoha -
He has to be fast enough for this.
He must.
Rooftop shingles crunch to dust as Hound launches himself forward. Ozone rises in a crackling rush as he slams headfirst into his own limits, elemental chakra covering for torn muscle fibers.
He flickers past the hospital wall and finds a void amongst ambient chakra approaching Shisui’s window. With what he knows now-
Hound doesn't think.
For an instant, he is far too small again, bolting out of a collapsing cave, Obito just behind him. His teammate slips out of reach-
Hound slams into Obito, desperation carving through his chakra reserves as his gifted eye spins and morphs. He catches fabric, a shoulder-
They land tangled amidst desolate concrete blocks.
Hound tightens his grip when an elbow smashes into his mask. It clatters against a nearby block but from the sound, stays in one piece.
“YOU,” Obito snarls, attempting to shove himself away.
Kakashi, who still has a pavlovian response to Obito’s annoyance, clings harder before he registers what he's doing. When Obito tries to plunge a kunai into his side, Kakashi kicks him in the nose and tries to punch him in the ribs. Yanking on his chakra for a nonverbal kai finds no illusions.
It's at this point that their wrestling tips them right over the edge of the concrete block.
Obito uses the second of freefall to attempt another stabbing, to which Kakashi retaliates with a knee to the ribs. They both crash into the lower block in a heap of cursing.
“You're alive,” Kakashi wheezes, not quite sure if he should be insulted or overjoyed by how this has turned out. Obito gains the literal upper hand and attempts to stab him for the third time, so Kakashi decides this must be some kind of weird genjutsu. Or a nightmare. Since disrupting his chakra hasn't broken him out of the dream or illusion, Kakashi goes for his last-ditch test.
He tugs down his mask and intercepts the stabbing by lunging up to bite Obito's forearm. His teeth tear through skin to rest lovingly on bone.
Blood wells up.
They both freeze.
Even genjutsu masters don't really get the feeling of biting people right. Most assume Hatake teeth are average and blunt, or that their bloodline hunting abilities are for animal prey. Biting into human muscle is not supposed to make anyone hungry, nor is the sensory input of wolf teeth predictable when Kakashi wears a mask that hides their size and shape. Even lucky guesses fail to account for human molars. Attempting to trick the nerve endings in his mouth through genjutsu reliably provides a static feeling akin to his gums falling asleep, as Kakashi's nervous system is just different enough to misinterpret delicate chakra interference.
“What- you have a face?!” Obito yelps.
Kakashi comes to the realization that he is lying half-pinned by his no-longer-dead teammate in some liminal space hell, teeth sunk into Obito's arm, and very aware of his dead idiot teammate's pulse. Blood continues to drip into his mouth. His mask is off.
They stare at each other. Because Kakashi is occasionally also an idiot, he stays frozen on the ground and doesn't release the arm. They make eye contact.
Obito blushes.
…WHAT.
Slowly, wary that something will crumble if he moves too fast, Kakashi lifts a shaking hand and wraps it around Obito's bloodied arm just above his elbow. Minute tremors that have nothing to do with a bite wound rattle between them.
To gently rise and softly fall into a world where Obito lives would be an honor Kakashi cannot convince himself of deserving. He can barely breathe.
This isn't real.
This can't be-
“Let go,” Obito rasps. He looks afraid. It's not right, for all that it's nostalgic. If Kakashi opens his mouth, will Obito run?
Kakashi can't talk like this, isn't sure what he’d say if he could, but he reaches up with his free hand to grab Obito by the shirt collar. Red-lit eyes track him warily. They flick back, meeting Kakashi's mismatched stare that's half gift, half inheritance, and fully as shocked as Obito's.
“Let go, this doesn't have to mean anything. You can go ahead and forget I was ever here,” Obito says, like his blood isn't pooling in Kakashi's mouth like a blessing and a shaking hand isn't nearly dropping the kunai. “I'm not going to have a happy ending, Bakashi. Do the right thing for once, and walk away-”
Kakashi yanks at Obito’s shirt collar down before he can finish a sentence neither of them want to hear. Obito hisses at the sudden pull, chin smacking clumsily into his bloody arm.
It takes real effort for Kakashi to unclench his jaw, hand sliding down to wrap around bite marks that will inevitably get infected. Obito is still shivering with his own emotional upheaval.
This is not supposed to bring comfort to Kakashi. Lying in a liminal empty space tangled with his childhood teammate, whose ghost he's been chasing for years now is nearly crying on top of him – this is not a position that should bring satisfaction of any kind.
But then, Kakashi's always considered himself a bit too far gone for any kind of normalcy. Obito is alive. That's all he needs.
“Stubborn bastard,” Obito snarls against his own torn-up arm. The word drips into Kakashi's chest alongside saliva and blood. They make a better home of the spaces between his ribs than honeyed sentiment ever could, languid acceptance setting into solid foundations for something frighteningly real.
“I'm not losing you twice,” Kakashi manages to choke out. He should probably say more. Raidou thinks communication is key to healthy living. Unfortunately, if Kakashi voices the roiling turbulence in his chest, he’s pretty sure he'll turn into a turnip or some other shriveled vegetable.
Obito makes an enraged noise in the back of his throat.
Kakashi is equally enraged to find it attractive while a kunai is still that close to his throat. Come on, shinobi. You're better than this.
As if reading his mind, Obito drops the kunai and braces his now-free hand on the floor like he's about to get up. Kakashi reacts on instinct.
He locks a leg over the back of Obito's knee and flips them to get his target pinned. For a split second, Kakashi stares down and sees only crushed rock, deathly pale sacrifice and a promise he failed to keep. The warmth in his chest starts to drain out like a bowl tipped over.
…It is possible he didn't fully consider that action. Every day, Kakashi is reminded just how badly Psych would want to pickle his brain if they knew even half of what trauma does to him daily.
He immediately rolls them back over, unable to deal with seeing Obito anywhere close to pinned, ever again. They land tangled further, Obito lying half across him and their arms locked together as if both are afraid the other will run. It's true enough.
Kakashi isn't a strong man, for all that he's considered powerful.
He can't make Obito stay. Honestly, he can't even stomach any method of trapping him.
He also-
“I can't lose you,” Kakashi reiterates. Sage, he's a wreck. Obito shifts, uncomfortable. Kakashi’s fingers curl into his arm when Obito starts to sit up and move away, testing. His teammate freezes.
This, too, is familiar. The unspoken poking, the call-and-response wherein they grudgingly push each other to unspoken but very real limits. Kakashi never insulted Obito's difficulty with clan techniques, and Obito never spoke scathingly about Sakumo. They may verbally poke and prod, but only within the other's limits.
Not now, Kakashi says in the curl of his fingers and tension in his shoulders. He wants Obito to stay, needs to say it before exploring other waters or losing this reunion to any sort of reality.
It won't be a fun conversation for either of them.
Hopefully they can avoid it entirely.
“Idiot. You should be telling me to get lost.” Obito’s facial scars crease when his lips pull down, nose wrinkling in an expression Kakashi can't interpret. “I'm not some perfect little memory worth mourning. If you had any sense, you’d be running. I'm a monster, Bakashi. I'll probably end up killing you.”
Aren't they both monsters?
Kakashi struggles to think past the ache between them, manifesting in every possible way. He ends up lifting a hand, sliding fingers into Obito's hair and letting a thumb rest on the soft shadow under his eye. “I'm pretty good at surviving people.”
Wow.
That's probably the worst thing he could've said to a teammate he did, very much, survive.
“Why are you like this,” Obito says. It's only a little called for.
“Oh, you know-” Kakashi says cheekily, and perhaps it's a good thing that Obito’s injured arm decides to interrupt by giving out.
He collapses onto Kakashi's chest armor with a quiet, “oof” before appearing to quietly give up.
For a moment that’s both a small eternity and not long enough, they both lie reeling in the pathetic absurdity of it all.
Obito's uninjured arm is pressed across Kakashi’s side, right over a bruise from when they initially fell head over heels into this dimension. The relief of an unnaturally cold palm so close to vital organs is unreasonably intimate. It makes Kakashi's teeth ache. His ears have definitely gone red, never-mind what his face is doing for Obito to look at him like that.
“I'm not some perfect little kid worth hating?” Kakashi offers out of scrambled thoughts.
Obito, the weirdo, curses. Then he seems to take this as the perfect time to kiss Kakashi.
They lose a bit of time to it; the teeth and blood caught between them.
Kakashi inhales through bloodstained teeth when they separate, unable to fully stop his sharp breath from sounding painfully loud. He's gratified to note a similar response in how Obito's jaw clenches before lowering his head to rest against Kakashi's shoulder.
“What are you lot doing to me?” Obito rasps into ANBU armor.
Kakashi can only hum, feeling it rumble deep in his chest alongside the wolfsong in his veins.
When Obito told him to get fucked all those years ago, the insult was likely not intended as a self fulfilling prophecy. Joking about that option can wait. Kakashi bites his tongue and discovers it's a bit of a mistake to taste his blood mingling with Obito's. Euphoria is a good way to think about the flavor of life spilled together.
No wonder the Hatake ancestors occasionally devolved into poetry when describing their abilities. His chakra is nearly purifying itself. Self-cleansing white chakra feels like exposed bone left to dry in harsh sunlight, because Hatake are of storm, crop, and the shared kill all wolves know to celebrate. Kakashi's chakra was eggshell white by the time he was three, bleached by the time Rin died, and blinding as a lightning strike before Minato and Kushina’s son first looked at him like a stranger. He does not know how to love in a way free from ruin. This, too, is a kind of heritage.
Uchiha are equally messed up about love, albeit from what seems like the opposite side of this equation.
They're both fucked up. At least they can be fucked up together.
A little while later finds Kakashi dumped out of Kamui onto the hospital rooftop. He is dazed, halfway to chakra exhaustion, and completely unsure of what he should be feeling beyond mildly loopy from the blood in his mouth. Red drips through his cloth mask onto the roof.
He swallows.
“Identity confirm?” Tiger asks in ANBU sign from the roof access doorway.
Kakashi signs his code back absently, and swipes fingers across the fabric on his cheek. It comes away bloody. Nice. He sniffs at it, committing the scent further to memory – Obito had a wind technique up to prevent scent-based trackers who can dispel the usual genjutsu-based methods of hiding their identity. It technically never failed. Blood just won't hide much from a Hatake. Once ingested, it's impossible to lose track of the source sense-memory.
“Command shift. Cat, you’re up,” pulses in code through the squad’s tattoos. Tiger leans back in the door as he adds in sign, “I’m calling it as team medic. Hound, take the rest of the night off.”
Ugh.
“I will sedate you,” Tiger threatens aloud when Kakashi blinks slowly at him.
“Injury report?” Hare adds from the trees.
Why-
Oh, right. He probably looks like he's bleeding. The taste of metal in his mouth reminds him that he kind of still is.
“I bit him,” Kakashi announces cheerfully.
Then he hops off the rooftop to find Anko. She knows how relationships work, right?