Work Text:
There’s an ANBU stationed outside the Hokage’s office today. This isn’t that unusual, even in the shallows of peacetime two years after the war. What is unusual, Gai notices as he rolls up the hall in his wheelchair, is that he can see the ANBU. They tend to keep to the shadows, to squeeze into the walls like mice. This one turns their vaguely-feline mask to the sound of Gai's tires. It's not quite a gesture of acknowledgement, as though the ANBU has forgotten they're not invisible. Gai hesitates a beat before raising his hand in greeting. The ANBU nods at him this time and reaches for the door.
Except - there is no door. Kakashi's office is wide open. Gai peers his head around and there it is, lying in two pieces off its hinges. Splinters of wood scatter the floorboards. Nuts and bolts glint like coins to a dragon's den. It looks like somebody burst through it. Gai cranes his neck around to the wall on the opposite side of the hall. It looks like somebody almost burst through that, too.
He cocks an eyebrow at the ANBU. "Anything to be concerned about, my friend?" he asks joyfully.
There's a familiar laugh from inside the office. "Just get in here, Gai."
He goes in - but doesn't make it very far. Four shinobi lay in heaps across the floor. Someone has stripped them of weapons. There is glass everywhere; the far windows are shattered, and the Hokage's desk is overturned. Kakashi is standing beside it, distinctly unimpressed. One of the dead men is at his feet. The room smells faintly of ozone - and not-so faintly of blood.
Gai wheels himself in until his tires bounce against a body. It's definitely a dead body because it doesn't make a sound as his wheelchair crunches over it. One of Shikamaru's poor interns winces. Shikamaru is here too, his shadows picking up books and scrolls from the floor. The shelves on the far wall have collapsed. Gai spots the photo frames amongst the mess and immediately swivels his chair to grab them.
"It's all right," Kakashi says, stepping over the bloodied shinobi. There's blood on him, too, splattered up his arm and chest. He's probably the reason one of the dead men has his throat slashed open. He picks up the photos, looking reassuringly at Gai. Then he seems to realise that Gai can't move much further into the room. "Ah. We made a bit of a mess, didn't we?"
Two more ANBU make quick work of sealing away the bodies. Gai purses his lips at the Lightning uniform and wonders how many more break-off fractions they're going to have to deal with. It seems many shinobi like the idea of peace even less than they do war.
"Well, at least we know the barrier seals on the windows need upgrading,” Kakashi says cheerfully.
"I'll have a word with the team," Shikamaru says. "And I'll ask Shizune to organise a call with the Raikage after lunch."
Kakashi sighs. Gai feels for him. The Land of Lightning hasn't been the easiest of nations to deal with since the war. A's personality is…volatile. The people of Lightning are sharp and explosive, and Kakashi has a knack for setting off fuses. People who don't know him well would assume his ability to wreak havoc with a mere look would lessen without his sharingan. Those people have never heard Kakashi open his mouth.
"I'd rather get it over with."
"Sure," Shikamaru drones with a knowing look. One of his shadows points a scroll at Gai. "But I don't think Gai-sensei's bringing me lunch."
Gai holds up the lunchbox in his lap apologetically. He should have anticipated he would find Kakashi's team in the office! With or without the aftermath of a fight, of course. "I can certainly bring something for you next time!"
"Sure," Shikamaru replies, just as Kakashi blurts, "No you don't want that."
The ANBU in the hallway laughs.
"You have a shellfish allergy, don't you?" Gai presses on, ignoring the start of a fluster on Kakashi's face, and Shikamaru nods.
"Really," Kakashi tries. "I think -"
"I'm fond of those dog-shaped rice balls you do," Shikamaru says, and Gai blushes a little. He hadn't realised anyone but Kakashi saw inside the boxes, and sometimes he's… sentimental. He has to encourage Kakashi to eat a balanced diet somehow! "Could you do a deer?"
Gai flashes a thumbs-up. "I can try!"
"If you've both had enough fun at my expense," Kakashi tries again.
"I'll still make a lunch for you, Rival!" Gai assures, depositing the one he's made today into Kakashi's hands. The bow sags a little in Kakashi's grasp, just like his expression dropping into exasperation. Gai grins. "The only expense is mine, and I am more than happy to support the hard work of the Hokage's administrative team!"
"In that case," Shikamaru says, gesturing to the intern. "Hey Tama, d'you like rice balls?"
"I like my job more," Tama mumbles.
"I'm not going to fire you for liking Gai's cooking," Kakashi says. "I will if it kills you, though. Just a warning."
“It will not kill you,” Gai assures, wishing he could kick Kakashi in the shin. “Kakashi has been eating my cooking for many years! And he is fit and healthy!”
“I wouldn’t quite go that far,” Kakashi says, but he pops a roll of omelette into his mouth just to prove a point. Gai’s probably the only person to actually see the mask pull up and down, and that’s only because he’s been keeping up with Kakashi for years. “I did just almost die. Then I might’ve never gotten to eat this glorious lunch.”
“Sickening,” Shikamaru says, in the same way Gai might say ‘adorable’.
Kakashi smiles. No doubt he’s pleased to have regained the upper-hand. He doesn’t make any effort to move as Shikamaru and the ANBU clear up around him, instead slowly working his way through the lunchbox. His appreciative munching is near-inappropriate. Nobody has the guts to tell him to stop - except Gai, of course, who would really rather not bring any attention to it at all, and so keeps his mouth shut. The tips of his ears burn. He can’t say the payback isn’t well-deserved, but he refuses to rise to the bait. This only seems to amuse Kakashi, who knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly the kind of consequences he’ll be reaping later.
Gai distracts himself from those thoughts by reorganising the shelves. One of Kakashi’s precious photos has been smashed. He tugs the picture out of the frame, careful not to tear it. All the while, he’s aware of Kakashi watching him and saying nothing. It feels chillier in the room all of a sudden. The weather must be turning, throwing a sharp breeze in through the broken windows. Shikamaru is right. These continuous attacks on the Hokage in his own home is sickening. He should be safe here. He should be safe anywhere.
“You know,” Kakashi says, brushing his fingers over Gai’s shoulder. His gloves are still bloody. This close, Gai can see the scorch of a fire jutsu on his vest. “If anything was going to kill me, it would be your cooking.”
Gai shakes his head. Kakashi’s lack of self-preservation is an age-old argument that they’re never going to settle (certainly not here in the semi-public of Kakashi’s office) but he tries anyway. “You shouldn’t make light of such things.”
“I’m not. Enough people have tried to kill me at this point, don’t you think? Doesn’t look like anyone’s going to manage it. I’m starting to think I’m going to die of old age.”
That certainly sounds like making light of it to Gai, but he plays along. “You’re thirty-two.”
“I said ‘starting’.”
Gai laughs. He doesn’t want to argue. He wants to grow old, and be happy, and have Kakashi at his side. He wanted those things before the war, of course, but now they feel… attainable. Gai isn’t one to cling to pipe dreams (he is, to most people’s disbelief, a realist). He knows his limits. He knows what his body can achieve. But even the strongest shinobi are still shinobi - and they are doomed to die young, violently, and alone. He knew this before the war - he’d known it since he was young. And yet still he clung to the fable of a long and beautiful life. It was the only lie he allowed himself. And now he’s here. Thirty-four. Almost as old as his father was when Dai opened the Gate and burned.
Gai has already burned. And he’s still alive. He supposes that means he can achieve anything now.
That must be how Kakashi feels. Unkillable yet humbled.
Rewarded.
Gai brushes specks of glass from the photo. Minato and Kushina’s faces smile up at him.
“I would like to see you as an old man,” he says, looking up to Kakashi’s face. He tries to imagine it: wrinkles instead of scars, thinner skin, and a permanent hunch. Kakashi’s halfway there already with his slouch and white hair. He would still have the mask, of course, and the cold hands, the sharp teeth, and the wit. Maybe his hair would be longer, or maybe he’d buzz-cut it off. He’d still be handsome. Not much would change.
What a wonderful thought.
Kakashi squeezes his shoulder. “As long as you don’t poison me, you’ll get the chance.”
“I’ll do my best,” Gai says. “But I do have a few more ideas for recipes and -”
Kakashi kisses him. He still smells like blood, but Gai’s used to it by now.