Dec 30, 2017
Here’s some domestic Mystrade for @thefrenchweirdone as my @sherlocksecretsanta present! Wish u a very happy 2018!!!! <3<3<3 Mita
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Here’s some domestic Mystrade for @thefrenchweirdone as my @sherlocksecretsanta present! Wish u a very happy 2018!!!! <3<3<3 Mita
Advent calendar: December 24th
Art by mitarashi8 || Ficlet by ninjaninaiii || Wordcount: 2.645 || Characters: Simon, Kieren || Pairings: Siren
Kieren was greatly enjoying thinking about getting home. He’d been out doing some (definitely not last minute) Christmas shopping, at actual shops rather than on Amazon, like all of the smart people (Amy, as she reminded him repeatedly,) had done. He’d heard about the Christmas Eve rush, but he’d never really experienced it.
The bus had been stuffy, humid from the thirty-odd fellow passengers crammed together, everyone attempting to protect their wares from winter boots as best they could, everyone wrapped up in coats too thick and scarves too warm in the heated vehicle.
He’d given up his seat to an elderly lady, a woman from down the road, who had, at least, thanked him with a smile: something Kieren had forgotten had existed today, other than plastered on the faces of exasperated, exhausted sales assistants.
He realised about four hours into the shop that he should have spent longer planning his gift-list, instead of going for his usual ‘I’ll look around when I get there’ approach- what he thought would be a morning out had quickly become a late-afternoon panic as shops announced that they would be shutting doors in half an hour.
He’d received a slightly manic ‘are you safe, where are you’ text about midday from Simon, though, which made him feel slightly better about the physical and mental trauma he’d gone through today. Simon was one of the only recipients of a gift he’d been planning on buying for a couple of months, now, and pre-ordered too, from a small flower-shop just off the high street in town.
For reasons unknown to everyone (and perhaps even to himself,) when they’d moved into their house together, Simon had started to accumulate plants. It had started off with an offcut of a spider plant, a budding clone given to them by Kieren’s mum as a housewarming gift, that much was sure, but since then, every room boasted a garden’s worth of foliage.
As the collection had grown, rooms had started to be themed by their leafy occupants- the living room had large, tropical potted plants, big leaves protruding from tiny trunks. The dining room was more flowery, vases filled with flowers from the garden or, like now, poinsettia that gave the room a christmas-y red glow. The bathroom had the spider-plant and a peace-lily, the kitchen a herb garden and, on the wide bay window of their bedroom, Simon’s most prized assortment- his mini cactus.
Apparently Simon had named his first one, a relatively plain-looking cylindrical cactus with a covering of thick, needle-like spikes ‘Kieren’ in honour of its namesake’s “spiky personality”.
Kieren had offhandedly joked that the cactus had looked lonely, and within a day it had been joined by a rotund companion, the slightly paler ‘Simon’, and one with a bulbous pink head, ‘Amy’. The last time Kieren had counted, there were twenty three of the damned things, each one with a progressively stranger name based on a film they’d watched that day, or a funny sounding food. Most recently, Simon, Kieren and Amy cactuses had been joined by ‘Bulgogi’.
The terrariums Kieren had spent months planning were about the size of a basketball, old fishbowls or glass vases, repurposed so that they could be sat at various angles at the centre of the window. One was mossy, stoppered by a large cork, another sandy and intermingled with skulls, the third layered with pebbles.
Trudging through the rather sorry-looking slush, hauling his shopping, occasionally shifting bags so that the weight distributed less painfully, he did another mental run-through of people he was socially obliged to give gifts to, matching them with food products he could regift, alcohol he could rehome, and envelopes of money he could appease them with.
He’d only really thought about presents for the nearest and dearest: a cast-iron casserole pot, plethora of recipe books he knew would never see the day and a home-cinema audio set for his mum and dad, an assortment of shitty punk CDs and a leather jacket for Jem, about 75 different flavoured candles for Amy (who knew what she did with the things, she got through them fast enough,) etc., etc.
Altogether, he’d spent more than he wanted to think about.
He wanted to collapse by the time he’d got to the doorstep, bags on floor, key in hand, pushing the door open- he frowned at the smell he was greeted by.
An undeniable set of smells: roasting turkey, bacon-fried sprouts, boiling vegetables, all intermingled with the deep clove smell that accompanied all Christmas foods. He’d been out for a long time, sure, but Kieren was fairly sure it wasn’t Christmas day quite yet.
Abandoning the bags at the foot of the stairs, he made his way through to the kitchen, where Simon was, back turned, attempting to do about twenty jobs at once. Getting closer, Kieren could see that Simon was obsessively whisking his gravy, looking undeniably stressed.
“Hello?” Kieren asked, slightly worried he would upset Simon by suddenly appearing. Apparently his assumption was correct, and Simon visibly jumped, before smiling, his whisking slowing down a little.
“Good day?” Simon asked, moving to kiss Kieren hello.
“Yeah, yeah…” Kieren trailed off, looking down at the meal. “What are you doing?”
“Trial run.” Simon bit his lip as a pan started to boil over, turning one of the knobs down to medium. “Trial run,” he repeated, slightly quieter, as if he’d been saying the words over and over in his mind all day.
“For tomorrow?” It had been quite the big deal, Kieren’s parents asking Simon if he’d like to cook the meal, since it was they who’d been invited to the Walker-Monroe house this year, instead of the two young men going around to the parent’s’. Kieren was in no doubt that it was only because Steve and Sue had been informed that a particularly unsavoury uncle was in the area and looking for a house to crash at over the season, and so needed to have an excuse for being out on Christmas day, but Simon was taking this very seriously.
Too seriously, it seemed, as Simon opened the oven to reveal a full turkey being roasted.
“I want it to be perfect,” Simon said, turning the turkey around. “It should be ready soon, if you’re hungry.”
“We’re not going to have an appetite tomorrow if we eat… Simon, have you cooked for six people?”
“Amy called, asked if she can join us. Or, uh, said she was coming.”
“Yeah but….” Kieren looked at the sheer volume of food. “There’s only two of us now.”
“Going to give it to the shelter once I’ve plated ours.”
“…right.”
Kieren left Simon to his cooking while he collected his bags, taking them to his room and sorting them into piles of things that needed to be wrapped urgently, and ones that could wait until later. He got to one, and couldn’t help his smile.
Unpackaging it, he went back downstairs. “Early Christmas present.” Kieren kissed Simon’s cheek from behind, then pulled him away from the stove for a couple of seconds so he could loop the gift around Simon’s neck, then tie the strings around his waist, letting Simon carry on once he was finished.
It had been a late impulse buy, something that Kieren would never admit to having bought. A pink and baby-blue apron, slightly frilly around the edges, very 50s aesthetic, with a hand-embroidered ‘kiss the cook’ across the chest. It had been in the window of one of the cutesy ‘For Her’ pop-up shops that appeared around the season, and Kieren had to apologise to the apologetic staff who (very reasonably) assumed he was buying it for his pretty girlfriend. Now they thought they’d been homophobic, and he looked like he was into kinky apron roleplay.
He’d regretted even thinking about buying it the moment he left the store with the rather elaborately decorated card bag, the apron smothered in tissue paper and confetti, (which now littered the bedroom floor,) but the sight of Simon in it, that was definitely making the experience worth it.
Maybe he was into kinky apron roleplay.
Kieren set the table as he imagined Simon flouncing around like a regency maid, complete with feather-duster and elaborate hairband.
He wasn’t sorry to forget the image as the fire-alarm decided that they were in grave danger and let out its shrill cry. Jumping for a knife, Kieren stabbed at the button, trying to get the thing to shut up, while Simon turned off the hobs, trying to find which was the offending article. By the time the house was silent, Kieren’s ears were ringing and his heart was pounding.
He caught Simon’s eye, both wide-eyed and panting with adrenaline-induced panic, and they dissolved into laughter.
Simon wiped his face of vegetable steam, having got a face-full after leaning over the stove and took a couple of deep breaths, still battling against a grin.
“Better?” Kieren asked, seeing the stress seep from Simon by the second. Simon nodded, opening his arms for a hug Kieren readily gave him. Once the life had been squeezed out of him, Kieren was pushed away so that Simon could assess the new addition to his wardrobe.
“Kiss the cook,” Simon read, upside down, pulling the material out so he could get a better look. He then flattened it back against his chest with careful hands, and looked up. “Well?” he asked, eyebrow raising in question.
Kieren grinned but obliged, hands reaching to sift through Simon’s hair. “Was starting to feel a little unloved,” Kieren said, attempting to sound petulant as he glanced at the still steaming pots and pans.
Simon’s attention was back onto the food like a bolt as he remembered what he’d been doing, but finding that none of it had been ruined by his second’s absence, he calmed down a little. “Want to help?” he asked, picking up a whisk and offering it to Kieren.
“You sure you want an ameteur messing up all your hard work? You know my mum banned me from even talking to her about food at Christmas?”
“What did you do to deserve that?” Simon asked, pushing the whisk into Kieren’s hands to show him he really did want him there.
“I think it was the culmination of a three-year process,” Kieren admitted, doing a magnificent job of monotonously stirring the gravy. “Year one, I asked if I could help cook the meal, which… I mean, looking back, it was kind of her fault too… who leaves a twelve year old kid looking after the oven while you ‘pop out’ to give some gifts to the neighbours?”
“How long was she out?” Simon asked, amused at the thought.
“About an hour? I panicked and thought that the turkey was going to give us bird-flu, so I turned the oven up to full blast… Yeah we didn’t have turkey that year.”
As if from some maternal instinct, Simon went to check his own turkey, turning the heat down a little.
“Year two, I wanted to apologise to her from the last year, so I told my mum I was going to be vegan about three days before Christmas day, which she was, y’know, okay with, until Jem decided she wanted to be vegan too, and my mum and dad had to eat double portions of meat for a week.”
Simon snorted, absolutely able to picture a young Kieren and Jem deciding that eating animals was horrible after seeing cute little animals on TV. “And year three?”
“That was the year I gave everyone food poisoning on Christmas eve because I didn’t realise you had to cook shrimp.” Kieren didn’t look up from his gravy, mouth pouting slightly in a pre-emptive defence.
“Incredible.” Simon laughed, imaging as a fourteen-year-old Kieren set down a plate of prawn-cocktail as they settled down to watch A Christmas Carol.
“To be fair, Jem isn’t allowed to do anything but mix drinks because of the time she set fire to the Christmas tree, taking all the presents with it,” Kieren said with a half-smile of fond remembrance. “We kind of have a habit of destroying the house…Are you sure you want them ‘round?” It was asked with a laugh, but Kieren couldn’t deny that he’d been terrified of this day since it had been planned.
His parents were still awkward around Simon, still trod lightly, hardly filling him with Christmas cheer, and he didn’t want to ruin their first proper Christmas together.
Simon shook his head, still smiling. “I’m looking forwards to having the house destroyed. It’ll be like having family.” Kieren still looking unsure, Simon’s smile turned cunning. “Do I have to crack out the sad family backstory?”
“Christ, save me.” Kieren rolled his eyes, attempting horror at the thought, but was slightly curtailed by the frank relief he was exuding.
-
“Can’t sleep?” Simon whispered, hand sliding across to meet Kieren’s. His voice was slow, accent thicker. He’d probably only just woken up. Probably just been woken up.
“Mmm.” Kieren rolled closer, feeling truthful at whatever time of the morning it was. “…I’m excited.” He’d wanted to set out Simon’s present before he woke, so he’d see them in the sunrise.
“Hoping to see old Saint Nick?” Simon shifted, and Kieren could just hear the smile on his lips. “He doesn’t give presents to bad boys who don’t sleep.”
Kieren let out a short burst of amused air, content to warm himself under the covers again after his brief stint by the window. “…Do you think it’s too early for breakfast?”
Simon groaned in a very enthusiastic ‘yes it’s too early’, throwing his free arm over his face as if that would delay the inevitable.
“If we eat now, we might actually be hungry by the time lunch rolls around,” Kieren tried, wide awake now, chin resting on Simon’s shoulder as he watched the man’s shadow-covered features in the early dawn light.
“What time is it?”
Kieren propped himself up on one elbow and patted around the bed-side table for his phone, the sudden brightness of it burning his eyes. “6:57.”
Simon let out another wordless moan.
“Pancakes,” Kieren tempted, leaning closer, his breath on Simon’s skin. Simon made a disinterested noise, though didn’t seem to be fighting the idea.
“If I’m waking up pre-dawn on Christmas, we’re having full English.”
“A full English. On Christmas day.”
Simon yawned as he stretched, rolling his limbs like a cat waking from a nap. “Full English.”
“If you’re sick later because you have to eat everything on your plate, you’re not blaming me.”
“When I fall asleep at four because you’ve woken me up now, you’re not blaming me,” Simon compromised, taking another moment to soak up some warmth before he started to sit up.
Out of bed, Simon shivered, pulling on a (for once, seasonally appropriate) jumper, throwing one to Kieren as he did the same. He opened the curtains, just as the first rays of the sun appeared behind the houses across the street, streaming a warm, golden glow into the dark room.
Simon let himself appreciate the view, the stillness, the not-quite white of the ice, the glimmer of dew, the crisp light warming his plants- he let out a breath and laughed.
“You woke up early.” Simon knelt so he could watch the light fall on the three new terrariums, the sun catching the condensation on one, making the second look like a waking desert, and erasing the hard lines of the third like the plants were touching the giant, waking star.
“Merry Christmas,” Kieren said, beaming as he saw the silly grin on Simon’s face.
Simon pulled Kieren in for a long hug, both still slightly dozy, both that odd mix of bed-warm and out-of-bed cold, both full of happy contentment. “Merry Christmas, Kier.”
Title: The eight gates Genre: Friendship & Romance Pairing: Gai. M & Kakashi. H Summary: Might Gai has used the gates through the thickest battles and not without hard work has he acquired such a technique, but the gates reflect more than his impressive work ethic, they reflect his life. Moments. Words: 3,782
A/N: This is for mitarashi8 since I said I would write some Kakagai (and was in need of it myself) but quite frankly I didn’t think I’d spend this much time nor was it ever supposed to be this long... Here is the cute art they did for the trade! It’s also on AO3 and FF.net
One: The Gate of Opening
All of Gai’s admiration and awe centred on the tallest, the strongest, and the kindest man: his father. Even with all the remarks and sneers behind his father’s back, he did not think less of his father – if anything, his disgust was aimed at the people behind the sneers. Gai would have loved to show those horrid locals how utterly wrong they were. Might Dai was not just some middle-aged Genin. Sure, only an hour ago Gai had been biting his lip that he would have to remain a Genin for the rest of his days and the Chunin exams would prove Gai was not as worthy as the rest of his peers…
No, what Gai wanted to prove was how much more his father was than some rank. Might Dai had a forbidden technique reserved to protect the village. If he could, Gai would drag them to the secretive hushes of the Konoha forests, where his father stood hands on hips with a grin at explaining a technique. A forbidden technique. Just from hearing the explanation of such a forbidden technique, Gai could feel himself becoming stronger. He could envision the strength it would bring.
Dai placed his hand on his son’s shoulder, channelling his expectations through him but not too much to burden those young shoulders. “I know you will be able to unlock the gates.” Gai gave a firm nod and watched his father move away from him and brought the forbidden technique to life. Watching in awe of promise, his father clench his hands and within ten minutes of watching his father scream with pain and relief. Might Dai was glowing green.
“Okay, Gai, my boy, it is your turn to focus.” Dai kept the green sweat escaping his body not daring to close the gates lest he collapsed in front of his son. “Remember the first gate is located in the brain.”
Before Gai could swallow himself in training, thoughts of the Chunin exams no longer consumed him to submission to trepidation. Instead Gai felt he would become stronger for once he honed the eight gates he would be able to face that Hatake boy with confidence that he had grown.
--
Two: The Gate of Healing
One week had passed since Gai had seen his rival. The first few days Gai had been training his new founded style of taijutsu: one that was akin to his father’s yet exceptionally different. Beating and surpassing the quota brought a high that numbed the blooded pale hands and an urge to spar against something more real than old bark. His newly appointed rival, Kakashi Hatake, could not pass an offer.
From that thought alone the young boy spent the week forcing locks to shatter and break on the entries to the Hatake household. Normally, Gai had no trouble sneaking in through an open window in the hot summer or a broken latch in the winter but double layering of locks and a coating of ninjutsu wordlessly screamed at him to leave. Stubborn as he was with his training Gai could only use brute force – unfortunately fingers were the only thing broken.
It had been Ebisu’s whispers of Konoha’s White Fang that had halted Gai’s feet from entering the Hatake grounds. Staring at the house he had so often barged in to surprise and challenge his rival, Gai could not take another step not solely from Ebisu’s sympathy but from his father’s words of respect.
“Kakashi!” Gai bellowed his small lungs to the house, both hoping his rival was not lost inside the house that was too large for one boy but also that he was there to hear him. Gai slapped his arms to his sides letting the sound resound for a second before bowing to the house. Nothing was said from the young boy replacing loud words with the deep bow. Time had lengthened as Gai faced the floor filling his sight with the gravel but his ears for the house. Just before he shifted to stand up straight his muscles pricked sensing movement inside the house. It took one second of hope for hastiness to sweep over him, dashing to the front door and locating the techniques his father had taught him.
Dai, his own father, had reprimanded him into using the eight gates in times of protection and need. Of course he had respected Kakashi’s space with thanks to Ebisu – space he kept despite the initial chance of clinging to the boy in a one-sided rivalry.
Compared to the fool-hearted thoughtless dash to the locks, the plan that followed would be a calm one. Coming face to face with Kakashi would be met in silence at first from shock and awe at Gai’s demolition of Jonin traps but it would dissipate when Gai would stand in front of the boy holding a book (whether he had been reading it was Kakashi’s knowledge) as if he had not trapped himself in his own home. Then Gai would pay his respects.
But that was the last thing Kakashi had wanted.
Yet, he needed.
--
Three: The Gate of Life
“Gai, I’m fine.” Kakashi forcing his voice to sound light. “Get out.”
Puberty favoured Gai’s religiousness to training enriching a stature that could easily block the entrance way – in just a few years muscle would add to build. Standing bold in front of his friend he did not deter under the eye Kakashi had been glaring at since Gai had obstructed his rival’s path. “Not until you go to bed.” Gai puffed his chest, expanding his size to what he could hope for in the future.
Kakashi mixed a sigh with a groan at his uninvited guest. "I rested at the hospital," Kakashi said trying to push reason onto the adamant look before him, yet the black eyes boring into him did not (would not) concede to the calls of being fine. The past spoke louder than the tired words of Kakashi. Once before Gai had moved from the door and had told his rival to be careful, bidding him a safe night only to find him lying on the red tiles of the bathroom, unchecked and a stitched wound pulled in irritation. Once had been enough.
"You just came back from a tough mission and I would not be surprised if you were to be called out again. You need to rest, rival." Gai said, taking a step forward. Unable to coax a response from his masked rival Gai grew a smile on his lips and added in a half-hearted whine that it would be unfair to challenge a tired Kakashi. From the mention of another challenge thrusted as another contract unsigned for (then again when had he signed for a Might Gai to be at his every turn), Kakashi slumped his shoulders. Maybe, the challenges had fitted into their lives a few years back when the two fought in the chunin exams just as the developing children they were but with their adolescence peaking the challenges felt misplaced. Then again, Gai’s persistence stuck a warmth bubbling in Kakashi’s stomach.
Hormones…
“I’m not leaving.” Gai said, bringing Kakashi’s attention forth. Proving his persistence to aid Kakashi to health, Gai walked past his rival and turned to face him once he centred himself in Kakashi’s apartment. His face pulled in a smug sure that Kakashi was powerless. The relentless smile certainly pushed Kakashi into submission for the reason Gai’s presence was tiring.
At the first sight of the eye roll, Gai headed straight for the single clearing the books and clothes, littering the sheets, to occupy the chair on the other side of the room. In the quick clean-up Kakashi dragged himself to his room and dumped himself on the bed. If Gai’s smiles had not drained him then the springs in his mattress sunk with his weight.
Gai laughed as Kakashi kicked his sandals off and flopped on the sheets. “You gotta’ go under the sheets to sleep, Kakashi.” Gai said tugging at the sheets and forcing Kakashi to roll to the wall before blanketing lethargic limbs. Limbs that if Kakashi had not thrown his dirtied grey vest in the drawers could not be identified as tools for the ANBU squad.
Watching white hair droop to the pillow blending with the fabric left Gai to think of the next stage in allowing Kakashi to rest, to sleep. Stories. Tales of morals flooded Gai of the memories of the rituals of bedtime he had with his father. Whilst most nights he had laid awake with visions of heroes, he still had nights where his young self slipped easily into dreams of his father’s words. The idea was too great to pass upon and Gai had voiced his thoughts on telling a great story before he had chosen which tale to tell. Of course, Kakashi frowned stating his age as though it would deter Gai. He followed with a voiced amalgam of lame appreciation and full dismissal of Gai's tales but his protests fell on ears unwilling to listen to anything other than the tales of the gates used in the previous mission. Kakashi sighed for the final time that night and left his ears open for Gai to ease him into sleep.
--
Four: The Gate of Pain
In the training grounds where the trees were abused by the flurry of kicks and the assault of punches Gai was undergoing his regular training, surpassing the day’s quota within two hours whilst increasing the workload to heavy breathing. Sweat dripped enough for his hair to stick to his forehead and the green spandex he was fond of rubbed around his crotch and underarms – not that the discomfort deterred him from his training. It was the same as usual.
Moving from the religious focus on his core muscles, Gai moved to settling his technique. He kept his focus on the counts of his fists contacting the bark of a worn tree, swinging power from his hips perfecting the basic punches held as the foundation of his moves. Granted that Gai had a high focus on his moves he still kept conscious of the world around him – if Gai had lost awareness he promised himself to hand his jacket back to the Hokage – and with enough awareness of the man strolling pass.
“Rival!” Gai called, following his roundhouse kick to turn and face the Jonin. “Have you come to join me in my most vigorous training?” He flashed a wide grin regaining his breath.
Before Gai could dash to his friend Kakashi held his hand up, “Sorry, Gai, I have to help an old lady with her shopping.”
“How courteous of you!” Gai shouted, shooting his thumb up in his signature pose.
Kakashi nodded, ducking his head to walk off. Gai watched Kakashi’s feet, out of habit from his training, following the way Kakashi dragged his feet. The ground dusted his sandals but the light walk from stealth training left no prints behind. It concerned Gai – his face creasing with thoughts already abandoning training. Years training with and fighting Kakashi’s sharigan had grown him accustomed to the Jonin’s moves and techniques, reflecting the unguarded thoughts of his friend. Unlike the face one’s gait was harder to mask.
“Kakashi!” Gai called jogging up to his friend.
Kakashi waved a hand mistaking his friend’s call as his bidding a farewell, until he felt the strong hand on his shoulder. Under the pull that forced him to meeting Gai’s creased face, Kakashi asked “What is it, Gai?”
Gai looked at the unbalanced stance. “You look tired, rival.”
Kakashi hummed. He looked to the worn trees taking in the rough marks before flicking his eye back to Gai whose face still glittered in the sweat of work. Black hair stuck to the hard lines of Gai’s face revelling in the ethic the Jonin treasured. “I guess it was just watching you train.”
Gai forced a laugh placing both his hands on his shoulders and squeezed. Kakashi stiffened under his hands loosening only when Gai ran his hands to rub the tops of his biceps. He offered his smile, though not as wide as the grin he used before but just as strong in his heart, asking Kakashi if he needed to unwind. In response, Kakashi’s shoulders slumped further, his feet seemingly sinking into the ground under the weight of himself. He questioned Gai’s neglect to his training but the inquiring was laughed off in Gai’s hearty laugh.
“I have the perfect remedy!” Gai beamed, hooking his arm round his friend. Touching Kakashi’s upper half whilst staring down at his feet in the hopes they no longer faced towards the edges of Konoha. Their placement had shuffled ever so slightly contemplating the schedule for the day for the silent Jonin. Gai held onto the sharp shoulders of his friend, concern not withering. If Kakashi wanted – needed – to see the memorial stone Gai hoped he would not mind his company.
He leaned in by Kakashi’s ear as if he would whisper but his volume did not change as he spoke into Kakashi’s ear, “Don’t fear words, Kakashi.”
“Maybe if you didn’t speak so loud.” Kakashi tilted his head away from the hot breath though he did not move enough for their closeness to distance.
Gai laughed and let his slimmer friend lead the way, watching their feet and feeling the rise and fall of shoulders.
--
Five: The Gate of Limit
Promises were the treasures Gai ensured he followed and kept. Restrictions never came especially not with age and time; if it was four years ago when he promised Kakashi he would join him and his ninken in a lap around the village – since he rarely walked and trained with the ninken alone. Yet, it was not simply the mundane promises he made but those dear to his large heart consuming him in the overwhelming importance of a smile.
His heart burned and thumped, sitting on one of the benches hidden in the shadows of the night near the hospital, for his student at the promises of a too close future. His heartfelt wishes for Lee weighed down broad shoulders enough that it would take a puffed chest of inhaling to mask the thoughts plastering his body. The few deep breaths allowed him to distract thoughts of the daunting future for his student with thanks to the man crouched in front of him, gloved hands on green knees.
“Gai,” Kakashi’s spoke flatly, a tone Gai thought was deserving. The look from the one black eye spoke words of concern though Gai was unsure if it was for himself or for his student. “You didn’t expect him to sit in the hospital, waiting for his leg to heal, when you storm out of the hospital after the medics have only looked over you once.”
Gai creeping his hands from his thighs to touch the tips of Kakashi’s fingers as he spoke, “I don’t expect him to sit still.” Eye contact with his friend wavered to the side before looking back intently in that one eye. “He will get better.”
Kakashi replied in silence – left Gai to listen to his masked breathing. The silence unnerved Kakashi in the presence of Gai whose mouth ran in bellows and commitment to noise. Voice loud enough for himself to solidify the promises furrowing into a deep brow. He pressed his on Gai’s knees with no intention to leave his unusually quiet friend.
“I wasn’t wrong to teach him the gates.” Gai said, his voice low, and clenched his hands brushing his fingers away from Kakashi’s.
Kakashi stood up, dug his hands in his pockets and stared down at Gai. “Of course not, you encouraged him.”
Gai shot to stand on his feet. Sandals touching sandals. Glowering brow setting on the one scolding eye staring. Silence fell edged differently than before, seeping deeper, thicker, into their throats. The dark sky shadowed the clenched jaw but not the growls of thought towards Kakashi, his friend, his partner.
--
Six: The Gate of View
An open palm facing Gai’s waiting (but not patient) frown halted the Jonin before any assault could be made to break the necks of the readied guards below. The bulky men almost beckoned a challenge of strength. Not only did their stance and stature outwardly promised Gai a worthy match but the briefing from Tsunade had ensured their strength was of equal value to the dirty trades inside the building. It would be a simple two Jonin mission of breaking and entering.
Four minutes passed before Kakashi shifted onto his left foot and flicked his hand to the right without looking back to make sure his signal had been received. In the next seconds that passed Gai had jumped from the branches landing softly, despite his weight, behind the guards and bearing a grin and a grunt as he swung at the first guard. Too easy. In just another three minutes of blocks and flurries of kicks the two guards were no longer breathing underneath Gai’s strong grip. Above him he focused on the chakra signatures.
Numbers had grown.
Gai left the unmoving guards, not looking at the vanquished but straight ahead as though he could see the flashes of white hair and not because he could sense the familiar chakra. Jumping through the branches needed the dexterity of keeping light weight on wood but the heftiness to push against them to reach the flashed fight between the trees. Kakashi was amongst them. Outnumbered.
Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.
The gates unlocked blessing his speed to catch sight of his partner with the heterochromatic eyes following and countering the onslaught of attacks. Gai followed Kakashi’s feet, watched them for tactics before stepping into the flurry as his worthy partner.
Gai could not recall when he had stopped relying on instinct to attack the shadows in his peripherals. Animalistic instincts were replaced in his trust to the panting man pressed up against his hot back. Behind him he had given his blind spots to Kakashi and in return Gai took his, using their distinct differences in style to combat those blind spots. Unlike machines they slipped – though rarely. On occasion Gai would be too fast but only too fast that Kakashi had not been prepared to match speed; likewise Kakashi would disappear before Gai had blinked but covered the distance in the second after.
--
Seven: The Gate of Wonder
The gates quenched a thirst but stayed parched for the final gate. More often than not it was tempting, too tempting, to bypass the seventh gate and unlock the final gate in a flurry of green. After all, Gai needed very little focus to slides the keys from the first gate to the seventh in a matter of seconds. During the days when he had to adjust his techniques to accompany the growth spurts, Gai had ensured that his most precious and strongest technique checked the boxes. His teenage years had been spent ensuring his reach to the seventh gate took ease. Training paid off as the Sublime Green Beast was a name that forded enemies to spit whilst the civilians thanked the ranks (although there was still the thin layer of apprehension).
Years it had taken for Gai to acquire and perfect the gates but it took moments to make the enemy quiver at his strength. Some fights left him with smile and the simplest of trips back to Konoha whilst some, like the one he had the fortune of striking, left him drained – enough so he felt his back melting into the rocky ground beneath him. His back pressed against the floor in the post-gate exhaustion.
The uncomfortable ground contrasted the soft sights spread to bless Gai’s eyesight with. If his sensory functions took the ground too harshly the clouds above made a blanket to sooth him in his exhaustion.
Intruding his vision of the skies above him, the sweating face of Kakashi broke the post-battle serenity but the new image that filled his black eyes was not less beautiful. The smell that wafted was the unpleasantness of blood and dirt but the all too familiar warmth of Kakashi filled stronger. Sweat stagnated between them with thanks to the proximity closed by Kakashi leaning over him.
Filled for taking in his partner’s scratched face Gai followed the dirt and blood smudging the pale face, unseen by many, and traced the jawline with his eyes. The seventh gate would not allow for his finger to brush the untanned pale skin. No longer was the technique forbidden but the contact of skin to skin was forbidden lest he ruined the beauty of the moment. Wanted Kakashi to stoop his head closer… closer…
And he did.
The beauty ruined with a burning kiss: a kiss broken before it had either had initiated any pressure. “KAKASHI!” Gai screamed, scrunching his face where eyebrows almost drowned eyelids. Cursing Kakashi loudly and hating the contact he wanted.
“I told you not to rush in.” Kakashi said before taking his hand off his partner, blessing Gai comfort. "Now stop staring. It's not the first time."
Gai coughed the rough fight from his throat.
--
Eight: The Gate of Death
Whom could be more fitting than Might Gai to take down the man threatening under the moon? No shinobi alive. Strength was an admirable trait and when such a trait enriched the enemy Gai fumed in determination – more so as he clutched his arm, cautiously watching the one man before the world.
Of course, the seven gates had only landed one attack on the seemingly immortal body; it was why Kakashi dismissed the idea of taijutsu, eager to find another solution. Gai already had the solution and it was taijutsu. The solution rattled at his inner core ready to drive himself into damage and the colour red.
Unlike the many plans he bellowed before Kakashi in his wide grin and confidence, Gai stood back-turned ready to assure his student and his partner that taijutsu was the solution. The only solution they had. Reassuring his student came first, the youth of determination could not be lost on Lee. Gai waited for a nod from the boy but came to be satisfied with a shallow sob and clenched fists ready to aid if needed. Behind Gai’s back the hardest eyes were set upon him but he made no contact with them, just a look in the direction of his partner. His large back was for Kakashi’s to watch, to guard, to protect but for the finale Gai would be guarding Kakashi’s.
“Gai…” Kakashi said, not calling out to his partner just letting his voice reach.
I was tagged by lovely mitarashi8 to spell my name with songs:
Kashmir - Led Zeppelin
A Kind of Magic - Queen
The Last Goodbye - Billy Boyd
I’m tagging, totally optional of course: hooptedoodley, notluvulongtime, eventhorizon451
mitarashi8 replied to your post: Rupert Graves perusing the setlock cat...
Can’t it be the colour from Sacrifice that is fading to blondish-red?
No, we already know he's back to full Silver Fox fineness thanks to these recent Gravespotting pics... :)
Pointless Eugene Hutz sketch because I need to get him out of my sistem.
acompesdivision replied to your photo “I could commit to a super-short haircut if I could get it short on the...”
I think your hair looks nice XD
D'aww thanks!
mitarashi8 replied to your photo “I could commit to a super-short haircut if I could get it short on the...”
I have a bowl cut with all the hair until a cm from the top of my ears shaved to 4mm and I looooove it. it's less drastic than going for a short cut all around but it's very practical! I can even, almost, tie it up! <3 short hair
I need piccies! :D I doubt you have a square face like me. :P
mitarashi8 replied to your photo: “ICYMI - Author Sharon Bolton paid a visit to the set of the film...”:
OMGOMGOMGOMG do you happen to know how long he's going to be in Dublin?
Not for certain. He's been there about four weeks already and according to Backstage, filming in Dublin was due to finish last week so not too much longer.
I'm sure Susie is looking forward to having him home... ;)