we give what we can give (and take what little we deserve)
ch 12
pairing: alpha!kakashi x omega!reader
tags: omegaverse, arranged marriage, angst and fluff and smut, plot twist!
description: Kakashi agrees to marry an omega princess-- the adopted daughter of the daimyo. However, what he agrees to and what he gets aren't exactly the same thing...
Excerpt: “You’re hurting me,” she cried, those glistening tears making glittery tracks down her cheeks. Her pain wrenched at his heart even as he held her fast. “Let go, let go!”
“If I let go, are you going to hit me?”
“No,” she sniffled piteously, and like a fool, Kakahshi let her go.
She poked him in the eye and made a break for the door.
masterlist
ao3
When Sakura had Naruto and Sasuke safely in hand, Kakashi had returned to the hill where he'd left his mate. It had been too much to hope for that she would still be there, but Kakashi had tried to track her even so. He only got five miles from where they'd lain entwined before his body finally wearied to the point of ineffectuality.
It had been four months since then, and he had yet to find her— other than her entry in the Bingo Book. Tsunade had a sizeable bounty placed on his mate’s head, attached or not, as one of her final acts as Hokage. It irked Kakashi a bit, but he couldn’t blame her. His wife was a traitor. Besides, it was hardly Tsunade’s fault that he’d made some admittedly unintelligent decisions that day on the battlefield. The only solution, as he saw it, was to be the one to find (Y/N) and bring her back before a bounty hunter or sufficiently motivated Leaf ninja decided to do the job first.
That said, it wasn’t exactly an easy job for a guy that just got promoted to Hokage, somewhat against his will. He was kept just busy enough with paperwork to be unable to physically search for her, and just bored enough to worry and imagine the worst possible scenarios for his wife every second of every day.
Of course, Kakashi wasn't sure what he’d actually do if indeed he ever found his wife. He supposed that, by civilian law, she was his to do with as he pleased— even if she was a criminal in the eyes of Konoha, she was his to punish, correct, and keep— but to punish her was not what he wanted, and neither did he want that task handed out of his control. What he did want was his old life back, the love he'd learned, the comfort he'd grown used to, the warmth that had suffused him and then abandoned him seemingly all at once.
But that life was a lie. That love was just a chemical compound, a malleable cocktail of hormones and conditioning that had made him vulnerable, lax, and soft.
It was all a great and terrible paradox that he just couldn't undo. But he’d tried being enemies with her, and that hadn’t really worked. Perhaps, if he ever had the opportunity to see her again, he should try making amends.
Even so, not much could be done towards that end at the present moment. So instead of feeling sorry for himself all the time, Kakashi spent a lot of time with Maito Gai, who really did have something to feel sorry for himself about. Like a stray alley cat that just wouldn't be shooed away, Kakashi hovered around Gai’s apartment in between his cumbersome Hokage duties, lounging and napping and watching after his best friend and his new implement: a wheelchair.
Despite his wounded condition, though, Gai never lost his cheer; the loss of functionality in his legs was nowhere near the price he was willing to pay for Konoha’s continued safety. It simultaneously heartened and pulverized Kakashi to see his friend suffer so joyfully.
Although… Kakashi could admit that he wished his friend would suffer a little less joyfully sometimes.
“A piggyback ride? Really?”
Gai huffed and began explaining the training exercise that he wanted to try. Kakashi had, of course, been intentionally obtuse— he had no desire to carry Gai up Konoha’s largest hill and then contort himself to counter-balance Gai’s own weight so he could hand-walk the both of them down the hill again. Still, though, as savior of the shinobi world, Gai was a hard person to deny.
Just when Gai finished his second explanation of the training exercise and looked expectantly at Kakashi, a knock sounded at the door. Relieved, Kakashi answered it.
An ANBU in full tactical gear was waiting.
“Can I help you?”
The porcelain mask stared impassively back at him.
It always irked Kakashi to receive messages from ANBU. Even now that he was Hokage, he still hated it. Having once been ANBU himself, it sort of took away some of the gravitas, the near-mysticism of the messenger, especially since he was now their boss; the dramatic pauses especially irked him, as he knew they were meant to establish a power balance tipped in the ANBU’s favor. The message was subtle, but certain: you receive information when I choose to give it, and not before. Irritating— and the pauses were longer and longer the less important the missive.
Hmph. Perhaps he would change this impertinent habit of the ANBU before Naruto came into the seat. Kakashi supposed that was now in his power. Might as well.
“Speak, shinobi,” he snapped, and the ANBU went rigid with displeasure. “It’s my day off, and I don’t like being kept waiting.”
“Pardon me, Lord Sixth— it’s only that I’m not sure what message to give you.”
Kakashi cocked his head. Normally he’d send such an idiot away for wasting his time… but the ANBU sounded genuine, and a bit nervous. Concerning— ANBU were not easily rattled.
“What is it?”
“I think you had better come see for yourself.”
Kakashi looked back at Gai. His old friend smiled with a warmth that radiated like the sun on a fresh spring day.
“Go,” he said. “I will be here when you return.”
For all his warmth, though, Gai was subdued— none of his usual emphasis-colored his speech. Kakashi sensed that this sad timbre was not for Gai’s sake, but rather for his own; he wore the Hokage mantle well, but there was no hiding how acutely he felt the burden of it from Gai. They had known each other all their lives.
“I’ll be back. Rest up— you’ll need your strength for the downhill stretch.”
At that, Gai beamed, and Kakashi left.
The ANBU took him beyond the gate of the village and into the forest. They walked a good while until Kakashi’s sensitive ears heard the sound of sniffling and Iruka-sensei’s teacher voice nearby.
“It’s for your own good,” he was saying sternly. “You can’t keep living like this. Nuts and berries and squirrel soup aren’t enough to sustain…”
Kakashi stopped listening.
He stopped listening because the vision before him blocked out all sound, all sense.
His wife had returned to the village.
Well, the outskirts of it, anyway. And it appeared that she had not returned so much as she had been trapped— chakra burst forth from hidden seals on the ground and pulsed menacingly, tightening each time she so much as twitched. The muscles in her neck flexed and strained as she tried to escape, and Kakashi noticed that a dirty bandage was wound around her neck. Her eyes were wild, hunted, darting around until they lighted on him.
For a single, terrible moment, she stared at him with the eyes of a wounded animal.
Then she looked away.
“Iruka please.” Oh, her voice was raw and desperate. “Let me go. I have tasks yet undone. Let me see to them. Please.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she threw another glance at him, then looked meekly away. No doubt she would appeal to his pity next. Kakashi was not fooled. Had she been free, had her bonds loosened even an inch, she would have burst through them and fought fiercely until she was free. It would be exactly as it had been when she’d nearly put out his eye in their living room, as it had been when he’d chased her through these very woods.
The thought of those days stirred something wild in Kakashi. Something that he thought was dead. Something that he thought he’d killed.
Iruka glanced back at Kakashi as if noticing him for the first time. Kakashi flushed, realizing he had been distracted enough to loosen his control over his scent.
“Hokage-sama.” Iruka bowed slightly at the waist. “I believe there is news you must hear.”
“Iruka,” (Y/N) breathed, voice weak and body trembling. “Don’t.”
Iruka turned to her with an expression of commingled pity and resolve.
“He has a right to know.”
Her lower lip trembled, and though her words still addressed Iruka, her eyes moved to Kakashi once more.
“Would you like me to kneel? To take and kiss your hand like a beggar? I have not so much royal pride left— I am a princess no more, if indeed I ever was. I will do it. Just please, Iruka, I—”
“Enough.”
The word surprised even Kakashi. It was as though someone and something else had spoken through him, a grieved and haggard beast beaten to the point of wretchedness. Even his ever-contrary wife, his petulant princess and intransigent mate, fell silent at once in accordance with his will. The moment should have felt like a victory. Instead, it filled him with darkness and shame.
“Tell me,” he began again, trying to gentle his voice. “What is all this about?”
Iruka turned to (Y/N).
“He should hear it from you,” said the sensei firmly, “but he is my superior officer. I will tell him if you do not.”
There it was. That spark of defiance, that iron will that had endearingly, maddeningly persisted for the full year of their tumultuous, passionate marriage— it flared to life in his mate’s eyes as she raised her head and snarled,
“Never. Pain your Hokage if you must, wound him if you dare. Never again shall I harm him.”
Her nose scrunched, and Kakashi knew she was fighting a fresh wave of tears. So pitiful, so small— and yet deadlier than a pit viper
Iruka, wearing a face he usually reserved for telling parents that a child had badly misbehaved, turned to Kakashi and said,
“She’s pregnant.”
The sensei continued, but Kakashi stopped listening again. He stared wide-eyed at his crying wife and inhaled deeply through his nose. Yes— it was true. Her scent had changed. The earth-rain-tea scent had sweetened with the scent of milk and honey.
The scent of a pup.
She wore only loose, ragged clothing— even if she had been showing, Kakashi would not have been able to tell. A shame. He would so like to have seen her round and plump and pretty.
“Damn you,” she cried softly, hatefully at Iruka. Her despair echoed in Kakashi’s chest. “Damn you all.”
Kakashi turned to Iruka.
“Release her.”
Iruka looked at him sideways, but did as he was told. As soon as the seal was broken, relief washed over (Y/N)’s face and she sank to her knees. Her arms came up around her own body, cradling herself in a self-soothing hug. She looked so fragile this way, as though all her strength had gone out from her.
Even so, Kakashi approached her warily. She was always and ever her deadliest when he did not expect her to be.
“Is this true?”
She looked up at him, nodded.
“Is it mine?”
Another nod.
“Are you lying?”
She looked up at him warily, and he added, “I realize that I have somewhat of a personal stake in this, so let me be clear— I won’t be angry if it isn’t mine. I swear to you that you will face no repercussions for whatever answer you give.”
“I’m not lying. It is true that I am…” her hand lifted to her belly, as if she could not make herself say the word, “and it is yours.”
Then, the hardest question. The question that would break him no matter her response.
“One last thing. Did you…”
Say it, he thought viciously to himself. Ask, or you will wonder for the rest of your life.
“Was it on purpose? Did you… arrange for this as a bargaining chip to use against me?”
Slowly, his wife stood. She drew herself up to her full height, her ragged features composing themselves as her posture straightened. Then, with the imperious air of a pissed-off princess, she said,
“Go fuck yourself, Hatake Kakashi, Hokage of the Hidden Leaf. How dare you? I don’t want your help or your pity.”
He sighed.
“I understand that you’re angry, but for the sake of the village—“
“You and your whole village can die screaming for all I care,” she seethed. “If you want your nuts and berries and squirrels back, you can dig them out of my shit in these God-forsaken woods. Otherwise I don’t owe you a single fucking thing.”
She spat at him. Her mouth was so dry, though, that the pitiful wad of saliva landed in the dirt between his feet rather than on his face, as she had doubtless intended.
So foul, so vulgar and disrespectful— and yet Kakashi ached for her. Iruka, scandalized, stood gaping like a fish. To save the man from swallowing a fly, Kakashi said,
“Iruka-sensei, return to the village. Here, take this— for bread and broth. Bring it to the Hatake compound along with some fresh fruit.”
Wordlessly, Iruka took the money Kakashi proffered and made a hasty exit. In ANBU hand-signals, Kakashi dismissed the ANBU guards who lingered always around him. A few shadows rippled with their inhabitants’ displeasure— shinobi love gossip— but followed his commands.
That done, he walked over to his wife and gathered her in his arms. She fought him at first, but she was weak from hunger and exposure. Her blows were little more than the batting of a fly’s wings against his chest. He caught her raging fists and held her tightly to himself, cradling her head.
“I wasn’t trying to accuse you of anything,” he murmured next to her ear, nose burning with unshed tears. “I just wanted the truth.”
“I know.” Her voice was soft and wet with tears. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For coming back.”
When he was sure he was composed enough to look his wife in the eye, he drew back to study her. Her face looked gaunt and thin even through the puffiness of her tears. It was clear that she had been living roughly. There was none of her usual pampered glow about her; the woman before him was like tough leather.
“I looked for you,” he confessed, “after we were together. I had thought…”
He stopped himself.
“But you were gone.”
She shrugged uncomfortably.
“You had done me a great kindness, Kakashi. You protected me, took care of me in my hour of need. I didn’t mean to come off as ungrateful, but… you had made it quite clear before that it was your wish to never lay eyes on me again. I felt that it was only right that I should grant that wish.”
She paused a moment, then added,
“Besides— I had business to attend to.”
Kakashi arched a brow at her.
“Business?”
She lifted her face slowly. Her eyes were hard, glinting with the dangerous sharpness of a predator behind her bitter tears.
“Rat hunting.”
Kakashi stared at her, disbelieving.
“Are you shocked, husband? That I am a traitor to my own kind? Surely it can’t be that much of a surprise.”
Her words were laced with contempt for her own duplicity— but he understood. Whatever loyalty she might have owed them was mitigated by the harm they had done her. She had given them her life, and they had used her like a tool, an object at their disposal to either support or abandon at their whim. It was an unforgivable profanation of life.
“They hurt you. It’s only natural that you should want to hurt them back.”
His wife shook her head.
“No, Kakashi. When my parents were murdered, they took me in, raised me, gave me a new father and a new purpose in that father’s court. No— they were good to me, and I betrayed them.”
Kakashi cocked his head.
“Then why?”
“No choice. I was captured. As soon as I knelt before my former commander, they tried to take my head.” She rubbed at the back of her neck subconsciously. “I escaped, obviously, but a katana got me good across the back of the neck. The cut should have healed by now, but it kept reopening as I fought in the war.”
Had she been so wounded when he’d found her heat-stricken in the middle of the battlefield? He couldn’t rightly remember. He did, however, remember her saying something about pups.
Their pups.
Together.
Speaking of which…
“This is a lot to process. We should talk.” He scratched the back of his head. “Not just about this but— about a lot of things.”
An understatement, to be sure— but Kakashi had never been a man of very many words. Or even very good words. Unfortunately, the words came off worse than they had sounded in his head, because when his wife replied, it was with a cool indifference that set his teeth on edge.
“I don’t see why. I don’t need anything from you, and I can’t imagine that there is anything your cast-off omega spy can offer you.”
It was a testament to her skill as a liar how smoothly she brushed aside the matter of the Hatake heir— his child. That would indeed be something she could offer Kakashi. A son or daughter of a skilled spy and a ninja prodigy would be valuable indeed to someone who cared about that sort of thing. As it stood, though, Kakashi was much more concerned with what he could offer her.
“I’ve done some reflection since the war ended,” he began slowly, testing the waters between them. “I believe I may have been overhasty in my reaction to your revelation those months ago.”
(Y/N) flashed her teeth at him— an interesting response to the olive branch that he had offered her. Once she spoke, though, dread filled Kakashi as he realized how similar an olive branch could seem to a snake.
“This child is mine, Hatake Kakashi,” she snarled. “You will not take it from me. Over my dead body, perhaps, but not while I live and breathe.”
“That’s the farthest thing from my intentions. No, don’t make that face— look at me, princess. I want to talk, that’s all. Do you really think I want to take our child from you?”
Kakashi waited for her to scrutinize him, and then her guard lowered, her shoulders drooping with exhaustion.
“No. But a girl has to be careful, you know.”
“I know.”
He extended a hand to her. She looked at it for a moment, then let her eyes meet his as she clasped his hand in her own.
It was so rapturously good to touch his mate, to hold her roughened hand in his own, that Kakashi forgot himself for a moment and shuddered with the pleasure of having her trust. (Y/N), as able as ever to read his mood, squeezed his hand and pressed closer to his side.
“Come, husband. Let’s go before it gets any hotter out here. I’m tired of sweating in these sweltering woods.”
It took days to get the full story. All of it, from the beginning, about how his wife was recruited to RAAT, how she was trained, how she infiltrated her adopted father’s home and reported his movements to her superiors, her activity during the war, up until the day she wandered back into Konoha’s forests, weary and travel-worn. There was a lot of ground to cover, but she answered Kakashi’s questions patiently and with great attention to detail. By the end of it, Kakashi felt somewhat better about having been deceived so easily by her charm; truth had been interwoven so tightly with lie that it seemed as if she had never really lied at all except by omission.
In return, (Y/N) only had one question of her own to ask. It was late afternoon, in that hazy golden hour just before sunset, that she posed the query to him, their dinner spread out on the table between them.
“During the war, did you… were you…” she stopped, then began again. “Did you dream inside the Infinite Tsukuyomi?”
He shook his head.
“I was in another dimension getting my ass handed to me.”
It didn’t seem fair that everyone else got to experience their perfect life while he was fighting for his stupid fucked-up one, but he tactfully did not mention that to (Y/N), who looked rather glum at his answer.
“I see.”
“Did you? Dream, I mean?”
She looked down, unwilling to meet his eyes.
“Yes. I did dream.”
No one in the village ever spoke of their dreams if they could help it. In most of them, they had lived unspeakable, unattainable lives. Marriages had broken under the weight of those dreams; friendships collapsed as jealousy and resentment festered between friends over events that had never even happened. Therefore, it was only natural that no one ever asked another person the question that Kakashi had on the tip of his tongue without bracing themselves for utter disaster.
“What did you dream?”
She was silent for a while, pushing food around on her plate. Then, through her silent tears, she replied,
“I dreamed that it was real. That I never left Konoha. That I never left you.”
Then it was Kakashi’s turn to be silent. He needed a moment to gather his courage.
“And upon waking, did you…”
She looked at him through watery eyes, and he faltered. It wasn’t good enough to leave it there, though. He must try again.
“Would you want that dream to be reality?”
After all, he thought selfishly, would such a dream be so far-fetched? They had been happy together, once. Why could they not be so again? Besides, he was Hokage now— he could pardon anyone he wished. Hell, if Sasuke was walking free, could his poor, inwardly wounded wife not also find mercy in Konoha? She had not caused half so much trouble as that uptight Uchiha asshole.
Across from him, his wife began to cry freely. Her hand trembled in his, and Kakashi could feel the quivering of her soul as though it were his own.
“Don’t tease me with what I can’t have, Kakashi.” Her voice was thin and hoarse with misery. “I never thought you to be cruel.”
“I’m not teasing. I’m also not suggesting that it would be easy. But possible?” He squeezed her hand. “Certainly. We could try, at least. I’ve faced worse odds.”
(Y/N) looked at him doubtfully.
“You’re sure you want to trust me? After all I’ve done?”
Kakashi gave thought to that question. What had she done other than have mind-blowing sex with him in-between improving the village and investing time, energy, and even risking her life to preserve the village? The logs she’d kept of village secrets had never been sent. And then, when her loyalty had been tested with an order to arrange Naruto’s death, she had come clean to Kakashi, had been willing to risk his wrath and even to die rather than carry out that task. In hindsight, it was obvious what his answer would be.
“Yes. I think perhaps I should have trusted you more from the beginning. It might have avoided some heartache for the both of us.”
Still not convinced, his wife withdrew her hand and placed it on the swelling of her belly that was visible beneath the shinobi shirt that she had pilfered from his closet.
“And a child? I don’t remember you being keen on having pups before. Are you sure you want to take on the responsibility?”
“It’s not a matter of what I want. You’re pregnant with my child— I have a responsibility to you both.” Seeing his wife’s displeasure, he rushed to add, “Besides, my biggest reservation about children has always been my father’s track record of fatherhood and the fear that I would fail them the way that I always felt he failed me. In other words, my objection was to myself, not the idea of a pup in general.”
“And do you still feel that way? That you object to yourself as a father?”
Kakashi shrugged.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. But I know one thing for certain: you will make an excellent mother. If you think that you can forgive me when I fail, I will do my best to keep up and be the parent our child needs. At the very least, you will want for nothing, and we have a village of people who will love our little one. They will succeed where we fail, surely.”
They did with me.
She thought for a moment, and suddenly Kakashi felt nervous. It occurred to him for the first time that it was possible that she might not want him involved in raising her child.
“Kakashi, tell me the truth here. Have you ever really, truly failed at anything?”
The answers to her question rose like bile in his throat. For a moment, he hesitated— but she had bared all for him. It was time Kakashi returned the favor.
“I failed to save Obito. I failed to protect Rin. And Minato-sensei…” he swallowed past the lump in his throat. “They’re all dead. My most recent and glaring failure is that I couldn’t prevent Sasuke from pursuing his revenge.”
He thought for a moment more, then added,
“And of course, I haven’t been a very good husband either.”
Across from him, his wife’s smile was small, but fond.
“None of those were your failures, Kakashi. They were the failures of the shinobi way of life. Even if you deny that, you were still only able to name five failures. Five failures in decades of living, and all of them were out of your direct control.” Her smile turned bitter, and she shook her head. “I fail much more than you, darling. Minute by minute, hour by hour, I could count my failings and never get a good tally. I was a failure of a daughter when I couldn’t save my parents, a failure of a daughter to the daimyo, a piss-poor spy, and an even worse wife. What makes you think I wouldn’t fail at being a mother, too? My track record is worse than yours by miles and miles of red ledgers.”
“None of those were your failures,” he parroted back at her, voice gentle. “They were the failures of our world. And I’ve got red in my ledger too.”
They sat together in silence for a moment after that.
“There is one other matter.”
“And that is?”
“You are the Hokage now. That comes with the burden of publicity. You have to admit that it would hurt your image for you to have a spy for a wife, or a child by a traitoress.”
“And it would be so much better for me to abandon you?”
“No one would blame you if you put us away, Kakashi. Most would see it as prudent. With you, near you, I’m just a liability.”
Kakashi was growing tired of this. He waited a moment to ensure that his words had the intended effect, then looked his wife in the eyes and delivered his innermost thoughts.
“I understand your concern, but if you persist in inventing reasons for me not to love and keep you, I’m going to start thinking you want me to cast you off.”
“It might be better for you in the long run.” She shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t want you to be bitter and feel that I’ve trapped you.”
He smirked.
“Oh, you’ve trapped me, alright— but I’m a willing victim of your charms.”
The possessive, playful alpha in him wanted to bare his teeth and spread his pheromones, inviting play, even mating— but he tempered that desire and settled for a brush of his thumb across the scent gland at his wife’s wrist.
She shuddered.
Just as Kakashi was debating the merits of sucking one of her fingers into his mouth, a knock sounded at the door. He tried not to feel disappointed when he let go of his wife’s hand to answer it.
His hand turned the handle. The door opened, letting in the hazy golden sunlight. Kakashi released the handle.
It was Sasuke.
“Yo, sensei.” The boy— now nearly a man— cut his eyes to the side. It was the only indication of his hesitancy. “Can we talk?”
Of course the one time Kakashi would rather not talk, Sasuke wanted to have a heart-to-heart.
“Sure.” Kakashi opened the door and let his wayward student into his home. “Come on in. We’ve got food if you’d like some.”
Sasuke bowed curtly to (Y/N) as Kakashi introduced her by her royal title— because no matter who she had been before or since, his wife was and would remain a daughter of the daimyo, a royal omega and noble princess. The energy between them was strange, but he chalked that up to the high-running emotions of the evening.
“I’d like it if we spoke in private,” said Sasuke. His eyes cut to (Y/N), distrustful. Kakashi understood.
“Come with me, then. I have an office on this floor.”
Okay, Kakashi wasn’t imagining it— the energy in the room was strange. As soon as Sasuke turned his back, he murmured a quick kai and made the hand sign.
The world fell away, and reality crashed into him with the weight of an anvil.
He couldn’t have been in the genjutsu for longer than a couple seconds. If he had been, there would be a dead body in his kitchen. As it was, the table was toppled over and Sasuke’s face was only inches from his snarling wife’s. Her snarl was not one of rage, though.
It was one of terror.
Sasuke’s remaining arm was halfway through her pregnant belly. (Y/N)’s left hand was embedded in his chest midway through her forearm. Her ninjutsu was as uncanny as ever, and Kakashi didn’t have to wait for long before he realized exactly what was happening.
“What’s all this?” he asked through a mask of calm.
Sasuke jerked his head towards him.
“I am doing my duty to the village. Ridding it of vermin.”
(Y/N) let out a guttural growl and Sasuke made a twist of his arm that made her go sickly with pain and fear.
“That’s not who she is anymore.”
“No?” his student’s old maniacal grin spread hatefully across his face. “Then she’s told you how she came to me when I was bent on Konoha’s destruction, offering all I had ever wanted in terms of total annihilation of this village.”
For a moment, Kakashi doubted. Then his wife spoke through gritted teeth.
“With the intention to rip you apart the moment you trusted me,” she hissed. “I can still do it, Uchiha dog. Test me, and I’ll spill your blood here and now.”
It was true. All she had to do was rip his heart from his chest, just as she had done to the last person to barge into her kitchen with killing intent.
Sasuke’s eyes narrowed.
“Try it, and you die.”
“True— but you’ll be dead too. It would bring me immense satisfaction to see your string of bad decisions come to an end.”
Yes, Kakashi supposed she would be dead, if Sasuke ripped her pup— that tiny, defenseless babe whose body was not selectively permeable like the body which housed it— from her womb. She would bleed to death internally. It was a dice roll as to whether she would last long enough for Tsunade to save her, but the odds were not in her favor. The thought of it made Kakashi’s heart pound with rage, but he swallowed it, tamped it down so that he could do his best to deescalate the situation. He must make Sasuke see reason.
“Sasuke, she is my wife. My mate. She was raised a spy, yes— but she has proved herself.”
Sasuke scoffed.
“She’s proved nothing to me but that she is a liar. No oath of loyalty is enough to prove otherwise.”
Uh-oh. Kakashi knew that look on his wife’s face. Before he could stop her, she opened her mouth and unleashed that white-hot whip of a tongue.
“And what would you know of loyalty, of pack, traitor-orphan? I had no choice in what happened to me— and when I did, I chose him.” She jabs a finger in Kakashi’s direction. “What did you choose, boy-pup, when the chips were down? Those who loved you, or your own petty vengeance? If you think it right to kill me for a traitor, then go ahead and kill yourself right after. By your estimation, a blade to your belly is the least you deserve.”
So much for deescalation.
Kakashi expected Sasuke to refute it, to make some excuse of why he’s different— but that never came.
“So be it,” he said with deadly calm. “But before I go, my mates will be protected from the threat you pose.”
It was then that Kakashi noticed fresh wounds on Sasuke’s neck— one on each side. Naruto and Sakura, then? Before Kakashi could process it, Sasuke turned to look at him.
“Sensei, if it’s your child’s life that you aim to spare, there are other ways to incubate it than in the belly of a traitor. Say the word, and I will make the incisions that will spare it. Otherwise, whore and whelp die.”
His wife looked at him with fright. Sharingan or no, he would never forget that fraught expression.
“You’re not killing anyone today, Sasuke.”
His student bared his teeth in defiance. Kakashi continued, ignoring the young alpha’s aggression.
“If my wife had wanted to destroy this village, she would have done so long ago. Instead, she has saved it again and again. If you do this, you will die— if not by her hand, which is almost guaranteed, then by mine. Let her go.”
Sasuke hesitated for a second— but not because of Kakashi. A split second after Kakashi finished speaking, his front door flew inward under a chakra-enhanced blow. Sakura stepped in over the wreckage, panicked.
“Sasuke! Stop! What the hell is wrong with you?”
A flash of pain appeared in Sasuke’s two-toned eyes, and for a single second, he faltered. It was enough. (Y/N), armed with a fork from the table, stuck her hand through her own stomach and stabbed the fork through Sasuke’s hand. The younger alpha yanked his hand away with a yelp— pure instinct, no shinobi finesse— and then (Y/N) solidified her body once more, her other arm still in his chest. Her eyes were dark with hate, and killing intent radiated off of her in waves.
“Shall I kill him, husband?” she asked, the muscles in her arm flexing. Sasuke made an inhuman sound, and Kakashi realized that she was squeezing his heart in her hands, freezing him in place with pain and lack of oxygen. “I want to.”
She squeezed harder, and Sakura cried out. Still, Kakashi hesitated. He had watched Sasuke kill a goddess earlier in the month, albeit with help; that kind of thing gives a man a realistic set of expectations about his chances against a potential enemy.
“Sensei, please,” Sakura cried. “He’s in pain. (Y/N) is safe, no harm done— let’s end this!”
In that moment, Kakashi didn’t care. This foolish boy— this idiot alpha pup, barely off Orochimaru’s teat— had nearly stolen everything he loved from him. Did he deserve to live?
“Let me,” pressed his wife, her bared teeth curling into a canine grin. “I’ll end it here. He tried to kill my pup. He tried, Kakashi. Let me kill him.”
It took every ounce of Kakashi’s will to place his hand on his wife’s shoulder and tell her to let Sasuke breathe. She looked up at him with a scowl, but withdrew her hand. Sasuke gasped, then retched as breath returned to him, and Sakura scolded him, telling him how stupid he was and how good (Y/N) had been for the village. Sasuke didn’t seem to be processing much, as he was still in shock from losing for once— happens to the best of us— but he let himself be led away by Sakura, who apologized over and over. The only reply she received was (Y/N)’s stony expression and Kakashi’s cold silence. The moment the two of them were gone, Kakashi threw himself at his mate, unable to stay away from her for one second longer.
He ran his hands over her face, her arms, her body— every inch of her that he could see, checking for injuries with his eyes, his hands, and his chakra. He scented her, rubbing his cheek against her cheeks, her neck, her wrists. It was primal need that drove him, and when he was finally satisfied that she was unhurt, he just held her against him, trembling with unspent fear and rage.
“Kakashi.” Her breath brushed his ear, and he shuddered. “Let me go.”
He shook his head, and she doubled down.
“I must go, Kakashi. Let go of me.”
He tightened his grip on her, and then there was nothing in his arms but air. She had used her ninjutsu and was now standing a foot back from him.
He sighed. There was really only one question he could ask.
“Why?”
(Y/N) shook her head.
“You can thank Sasuke— and you should, really. He has reminded us of what I am— what I will always be— to this village. I won’t live with pointed fingers in my face, Kakashi.”
Kakashi sighed again.
“He’s misguided, my love.”
“He’s vindictive. There’s a difference. And there are others like him that will remember me for what I am.”
“Perhaps there are,” he conceded, “but they’d be wrong. And they won’t act on it, not like Sasuke. You have to admit that the kid has problems— but he didn’t have a very good start to make things easy for him, either.”
(Y/N) scoffed.
“Neither did you. Neither did Naruto. I don’t feel sorry for him.” Her eyes softened. “Not even for your sake, my love.”
Kakashi shook his head.
“It was good we didn’t meet earlier in life.”
That took (Y/N) aback. At his wife’s raised brow, Kakashi replied,
“I was embarrassingly like him back in the day, you know. Angsty, egotistical… vindictive. The only thing I was missing was Uchiha narcissism, but I more than made up for it in petty Hatake pride— vanity, really. I don’t think you would have liked me much.”
“I don’t know.” A smile creeped over her lips. “A handsome face makes up for a lot.”
He grinned.
“Oh, I made sure to keep it covered.”
“A dark, piercing set of eyes, then.” She stepped closer. “A lean, strong body…”
She loudly sniffed his scent and winked.
“And alpha wherewithal. I think we’d have gotten on fine.”
A pause, then she added,
“Well, maybe not. My wherewithal was wherewithout when I was younger. Without my training, I was never eye-catching, I’m afraid. You’d have never given me so much as a second glance.”
Kakashi couldn’t imagine such a thing.
“You forget, princess— I am a shinobi. Trained to see underneath the underneath. I see more than you think.” He let a hand drift to his mating bite on her neck, then let it slide down over her left breast, where he could feel her heart beating. “I saw you for what you were the first time I laid eyes on you.”
She chuckled quizzically.
“On our wedding day? I thought you were three sheets to the wind, the way your eyes were red and you seemed… out of it for a while.”
It occurred to Kakashi then that he had never told her about that fateful day in that tiny meeting room with the daimyo— how it was him whom she had wanted so badly to please.
“No,” he said with a laugh. “You’re not the only keeper of secrets. We met ten years ago— I was still in ANBU then. Do you remember it?”
Her brows furrowed in concentration. She thought long and hard for several seconds, and then disbelief washed over her face.
“You’re the ANBU that caught me in my father’s meeting chambers?”
Kakashi grinned and mock-bowed.
“Hound-san, at your service.”
She shook her head, incredulous.
“No. No way.”
He laughed.
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“Be serious. That was you? The guy who snatched me from my little hiding place? And roughhoused me, then went into rut?”
Kakashi nodded, still laughing, and she shoved him.
“You got me in so much trouble!”
“As I recall, you got you in so much trouble. What were you even doing in there?”
“Spying, duh! Well, practicing anyway— until you yanked me down!”
“It was your own fault,” he reminded her with a chuckle. “I could hear you. And smell you.”
“Oh, I bet you could, you pervert! I bet you could tell my scent apart from all the others because you spent all your time sniffing around pretty omega princesses.”
“I was in rut! And I most certainly didn’t— you were the only omega princess I’d ever met at the time.”
“I see,” she giggled. “Well, did I make an impression?”
He pulled her to him by the waist. “I’d certainly say so.”
They laughed together for a minute, then he asked,
“So— you said you got into trouble on my account?”
“Oh yes,” she grinned. “Big trouble. My father was furious that I had offered myself to you. That’s preposterous behavior, he told me. Said I was no common whore— although he let his other daughters and quite a few of his wives say as much to my face and behind my pack. Whatever, he was furious, and it was months before his wrath faded and my punishment ended.”
Kakashi cocked his head.
“Months? What did they do to you?”
She shrugged.
“They doubled my suppressant for a few months, of course. To curb my appetites.” Her smile faded a bit. “I hardly remember those days— I was half a zombie. My handler could have stepped in, but I think she agreed with them. A hot-blooded spy is rarely a successful one, after all. And make no mistake, my blood runs hotter than most.”
Aaaaand his rage was back. She gave him a meaningful look, but Kakashi was no longer in a mood for laughing.
“I’m sorry. They should never have done that to you.”
His wife shrugged awkwardly.
“I agree— but they had to do something. I really wasn’t doing well at the time. Erratic behavior, a rebellious mouth… I was a handful.”
Kakashi shook his head.
“Naruto was a handful too. If someone had suggested the same treatment for him, even the most hateful person in the village would have balked.” He paused, then added, “I was hot-blooded too, you know. I would have taken you there in front of your father and my Hokage if I could have.”
“So I have discovered,” she smiled, voice devious. “Fortunate, too— because your hot blood runs the same temperature as mine.”
She tilted her head— an invitation. Kakashi accepted. He pulled down his mask and kissed her. She kissed him back. It was a slow, languid thing, as full of their pain as it was of their pleasure, and just as Kakashi moved to pull her closer, she pulled back.
“I don’t want to leave,” she breathed against his lips.
“Then don’t.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Stay here with me.”
“I can’t. They’ll hate me.”
“Never. The village loves you.”
“Not all of them.”
“Enough do. And besides— you made me love you. What’s the difference if you can make them love you too?”
“I will always be a stranger here, Kakashi.”
“You were never a stranger to Konoha, not from the moment you took my name. Even if you had been, you earned your place here. I was foolish not to have seen it before.”
“I’m frightened.”
Ah, there was the truth.
“Then you have to choose. Faith— in me, in the village— or fear. Which will it be?”
Kakashi knew in his heart that he would have to let her choose. Even if the alpha in him screamed to keep her, to chain her to the hearth if she wouldn’t stay there willingly, he knew he had to let her have the final say. Without that, it would all fall apart. Love without commitment was unmolded clay— full of potential, but useless.
As she considered the decision, he looked long and hard at her. There was such strength in her— such measured gravity. It was a pity she had not been born to a village. She would have been a force to be reckoned with. Perhaps a kage in her own right. She certainly had the mettle.
“If I choose the village,” choose you, she did not say, but Kakashi heard it anyway, “will you be suspicious of me again? Always looking over your shoulder?”
Kakashi shrugged.
“I can’t promise to change who I am. Suspicion has kept me alive.” A callous hand lifted to cradle her beautiful face. “But I trust you with my home, with my child, and with my life. Is that enough?”
She nodded, but still looked undecided.
“And if one day you resent our arranged marriage? If you realize that we were perhaps hasty in mating, or someone better comes along— what will you do then?”
Kakashi frowned.
“Is that really what you think of me, my wife?”
He tried to imagine it. Leaving her— leaving their pup— to chase after something else, something less. It was impossible. It made him nauseous to try.
“No, Kakashi.” Her voice was heavy, her eyes sad. “But I can’t see beneath your underneath. I have to know what I’m getting myself into.”
“Then know this.” He kissed her brow tenderly, murmuring the words against her flesh. “That day won’t come. If it does, I’m dead or captured, and someone is using my body against you— in which case I give you full license to attack me and get out while you can.”
She moved to put her arms around him. Kakashi held her, wishing he had the sharingan one last time to capture this moment— her warmth, the press of her swollen belly against his torso— forever.
“I’ll stay, Kakashi.”
A single, solitary tear slid down his cheek. It was as though a mountain had been lifted from his shoulders.
“I love you.”
It was all he could manage to say, but it was enough.
They held each other for a while there. When her feet got tired, they moved to the living room, where she crawled into his lap and pressed bodily against him. They talked like that, thinking through their plans for the future— what they needed to do to protect their home and village from the remaining RAATs, which room to put the nursery in, and what wood to use for the cradle— until at last they fell silent, enjoying the warmth and safety of each other’s bodies.
“Did we ever finish that book?” she asked, readjusting so that she could see Kakashi’s face. “Love’s Shadow?”
“I don’t think so. We didn’t even start it, I don’t think.” Kakashi tried to look unbothered, as if that book’s presence on his nightstand hadn’t tortured him for months on end. “It’s in our room waiting, if you’d like to start tonight.”
She yawned.
“Tomorrow.” She nestled back into his arms. “I’m tired, Kakashi.”
Tomorrow. The thought filled Kakashi with warmth. She would be here tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. She would be here with him for every tomorrow for the foreseeable future— and somehow, that made up for all the yesterdays that they were apart.
