Chapter Text
While it was generally great to have Kurama’s healing factor in most scenarios, turns out it didn’t do jack shit when it came to metabolizing alcohol. So for Naruto,the thing about drinking with a lightweight tolerance is that the world gets pleasantly blurry around the edges pretty quickly.
"Maybe slow down," Kakashi suggests mildly, watching Naruto down his fourth sake like it's water.The owner of the izakaya had graciously accommodated the Rokudaime's request for privacy; now they have the whole back room to themselves, warmly lit, blissfully quiet. It's past closing hours—the only people around are the workers cleaning up. Naruto can faintly hear dishes being washed and quiet conversation from the kitchen.
"I'm fine," Naruto insists, gesturing broadly enough that he nearly knocks over his empty glass. "I'm celebrating my newfound freedom. Freedom from... from..."
"Something that made you miserable?" Kakashi diplomatically offers.
"The relationship didn't make me miserable! Hinata's great. She's perfect. I should've been happy." Naruto slumps over the bar, forehead pressed to the cool wood. "Why wasn't I happy, sensei?"
Kakashi is quiet for a moment, nursing his own drink—his second to Naruto's four, because Kakashi actually has self-control and also probably a functioning liver. "Sometimes we want to want things," he says finally. "That doesn't mean we actually want them."
"That's confusing."
"You're drunk."
"Not drunk enough." Naruto tries to signal for another, and Kakashi gently intercepts, pushing water toward him instead.
"Maybe that's enough for tonight."
"But I don't wanna think anymore," Naruto complains, accepting the water with a pout. "Thinking is terrible. Thinking is how I realized I'm a bad person who couldn't love someone who loved me."
"You're not a bad person. You're just..." Kakashi trails off. Clears his throat. "You can't force feelings that aren't there."
"She cried, sensei. She cried and said she knew I didn't love her the right way, and I didn't even know what that meant. What's the right way? How am I supposed to know?" Naruto takes a long drink of water, wishing it would hit like the alcohol. "I tried. I really tried."
"I know you did."
There's something in Kakashi's voice—something soft and sad—that makes Naruto look up. His former teacher is watching him with that unreadable expression he gets sometimes, the one that makes Naruto feel like there's a whole conversation happening that he's not privy to.
"You ever been in love, sensei?" Naruto asks.
Kakashi's visible eye crinkles. "That's a dangerous question when you're drunk."
"Is that a yes?"
"It's a 'let's get you home before you ask things you'll regret in the morning.'"
"I won't regret it. I wanna know. You never talk about that stuff." Naruto leans closer, squinting. "Are you secretly pining for someone? Is that why you're always alone?"
"I'm alone because I'm the Hokage and married to the job," Kakashi says lightly. "Now come on. Up you go."
He helps Naruto off the barstool—which is good because Naruto's legs are definitely not cooperating the way they should—and slings an arm around his waist to steady him.
"M'sorry," Naruto mumbles as they make their way outside. "Didn't mean to be pathetic tonight."
"You're not pathetic. You're processing."
"Processing sucks."
"Generally, yes."
The night air is cool, and Naruto leans into Kakashi's warmth without thinking about it. He smells like sake and that cedar scent that's distinctly him, and Naruto has a sudden dizzy thought that this is nice. Being close like this. Kakashi's arm solid around him, keeping him upright.
"Thanks for staying with me," Naruto says. "You didn't have to."
"Of course I did." Kakashi's voice is quiet. "Where else would I be?"
"Being Hokage. Important Hokage stuff."
"You're important too."
Something in Naruto's chest goes warm and bright. He tips his head to look at Kakashi, which is a mistake because they're close enough that he can see the way Kakashi's looking at him—fond and concerned and something else, something Naruto doesn't have words for in his current state.
“Feels good,” he admits, “to be important to you.” It’s half drunken stupidity, all sincerity.
The half moon is bright but Naruto can’t quite catch Kakashi’s expression in the flickering shadows. “You always are,” the older man says carefully after a long moment.
They make it to Naruto's apartment, and Kakashi helps him inside, gets him water and makes him drink it, the whole responsible-adult routine. Naruto flops onto his bed fully clothed.
"Gonna regret this tomorrow," he announces to the ceiling.
"Probably," Kakashi agrees. "But that's tomorrow's problem."
Naruto feels the blanket being pulled over him, Kakashi's hand briefly touching his shoulder.
"'Night, sensei," Naruto mumbles, already drifting.
"Goodnight, Naruto."
He's asleep before he hears the door close.
Naruto knows something is wrong the moment he wakes up.
Not wrong like "oh god my head is killing me" wrong, though that's definitely also happening. Wrong like the air tastes different, like gravity pulled just slightly sideways, like he went to sleep in his own skin and woke up wearing it wrong.
Also, someone is kissing his neck.
"Mmm, you're awake," a sleep-rough voice murmurs against his throat. He feels something hard pressing against his backside as a hand slips around his waist, meandering towards his hardening—
Naruto's brain whites out completely because that's Kakashi's voice, Kakashi's breath hot on his skin, Kakashi's hand sliding down his bare stomach—
Oh god did we hook up—
Naruto jackknifes upright so fast he nearly headbutts his former teacher in the face.
"What the—Kakashi-sensei, what are you—we—" The words tangle in his mouth as he takes in the scene: unfamiliar bedroom, morning light slanting through curtains he's never seen before, and Kakashi propped on one elbow beside him looking simultaneously amused and concerned, silver hair mussed from sleep, face completely bare, wearing nothing but loose sleep pants.
Kakashi's face. His whole face, scars and all, like it's normal. Like Naruto sees it every day.
Wait.
This isn't Naruto's apartment. This isn't his bed. These aren't his sheets.
"Are you alright?" Kakashi asks, reaching out to touch his shoulder, and his hand is so casual, so familiar with Naruto's body that it sends a jolt of something through him. "Bad dream?"
"I—what—where—" Naruto looks down at himself. He's shirtless. There’s a trail of hickeys on his chest that he definitely didn't have when he went to sleep, fresh enough that they must be from last night, from—
But that doesn't make sense. Kakashi had left. Kakashi had tucked him in and left and Naruto had been alone and now he's—
He's not in his apartment.
He's not even sure he's in Konoha.
"Naruto." Kakashi's voice sharpens with actual concern now. He sits up fully, and the sheets pool around his waist, and Naruto can see marks disappearing below the waistband. "Hey. Look at me. What's wrong?"
Everything. Everything is wrong.
"Where am I?" Naruto manages.
Kakashi's expression shifts from concerned to alarmed. "You're home. Our apartment. Naruto, did something happen?"
Our apartment.
Oh.
Oh no.
This isn't "we drunkenly hooked up" wrong. This is something so much worse—or weirder—or something.
“Can I…” Naruto doesn’t even know what to say. His voice rasps as he tries again. “Could you…get me some water? And some aspirin?”
Kakashi regards him for a long moment, his eyes searching, his expression unreadable. Naruto gets the tingling sensation like the older man wants to do more, to say something, and is very carefully restraining himself. Finally he nods. "Of course." He leaves Naruto there on the bed, sunlight streaming down across his bare back.
The door closes with a soft click.
"What...the...fuck?" Naruto mouths quietly.
He sits there for a moment, heart hammering, trying to make sense of anything. Then, slowly, he forces himself to look around.
The bedroom is small but lived-in. There's a bookshelf crammed with novels and mission reports in messy piles. Kakashi's ANBU vest draped over a chair—not the Hokage's robes. A closet with the door half-open revealing clothes that are clearly both his and Kakashi's, all jumbled together like they've been sharing the space for a while.
And on the nightstand, catching the morning light: a photo in a simple frame.
Naruto reaches for it with trembling hands.
It's him and Kakashi. They’re both wearing simple summer yukata. Judging by the ocean view behind them and the food stands, they’re at a civilian festival somewhere far from Konoha. Kakashi's arm is slung casually around Naruto's shoulders, and Naruto—this universe's Naruto—is grinning at the camera with his whole face, bright and unguarded. Kakashi's mask is down. He's smiling too, that rare real smile that Naruto's only seen a handful of times, the one that makes him look years younger.
They look happy. They look like they belong together.
"Oh fuck," Naruto hisses. This is real.
Not a drunken mistake. Not a genjutsu or a weird dream. Somehow, impossibly, he's in a world where he and Kakashi are—where they're—
The door opens. Kakashi comes back in with a glass of water, and Naruto can see the careful control in every movement, the way he's holding himself together.
Their eyes meet.
"So," Naruto says slowly, still clutching the photo frame. "I'm Naruto."
Kakashi's expression does something complicated—relief and grief tangled together. "But you're not my Naruto."
The words hang in the air between them.
"No," Naruto confirms quietly. "I don't think I am."
A flush of embarrassment quickly overcomes Kakashi’s face. “Sorry, for uh…coming onto you then.” He looks away. “You can get dressed in his clothes if you’d like, for the time being.”
Blue eyes widen. “Oh! I, uh—no, it’s okay. You didn’t know.” A silence begins to stretch between them, but Naruto won’t let it go any further. “Thanks for this.” He scrambles to get up and take the water and pills from Kakashi’s hands, downing them both without hesitation. His gulps are large and painful, but they’re almost a reprieve from the thoughts swirling in his head.
“I’ll grab my things and wait for you in the living room then,” Kakashi says, swiping a set of clothes on the chair. Before Naruto has a chance to protest, he’s gone.
Naruto stands alone in the bedroom for a moment, clutching the water glass like a lifeline. Then he forces himself to move.
The closet is a mess of tangled clothes—orange and black jumbled together with no clear division between whose is whose. He finds a pair of pants that look like they'll fit and pulls them on, then grabs a black shirt that's probably Kakashi's but might be his. Everything smells clean, lived-in. Like cedar and something warmer underneath.
He catches sight of himself in the mirror mounted on the closet door and freezes.
It's him. Definitely him. But his hair is longer, hanging past his ears in a way he hasn't worn it since he was a teenager. And his face—there's something different about it. The baby fat completely gone from his cheeks, sharper angles, subtle lines around his eyes.
He looks older.
"What the hell," Naruto breathes, leaning closer to the mirror. He touches his face like that'll somehow make it make sense.
The bathroom is even weirder. Tiny, barely big enough for one person, but cozy. And there on the sink: two toothbrushes in a single cup. One orange, one with a dog painted on the handle. They lean against each other.
Naruto stares at them for a long time.
He splashes water on his face. Tries to breathe. This is fine. This is—well, it's not fine, but he can handle it. He's handled worse.
Probably.
When he finally makes his way to the living room, Kakashi is already there. He's dressed now—dark pants and a long-sleeved shirt, mask back in place like armor. He's kneeling by the low table, setting out two cups of tea with careful, precise movements.
The morning light catches on his hair.
Naruto’s stomach does something complicated.
It's just—he's never really looked at Kakashi like this before. Not as his former teacher or his friend or even as the Hokage. Just as a person. A man. And with the mask up and his hair still mussed from sleep and his movements so deliberate and careful, there's something almost...
Naruto shakes his head. Of course he'd find him attractive. The guy was just trying to seduce him like twenty minutes ago. Anyone would be a little affected by that. It doesn't mean anything.
"I made tea," Kakashi says without looking up. "Yours is on the right."
Naruto sits, grateful for something to do with his hands. He picks up the cup. It's warm against his palms.
He takes a sip.
It's perfect. Not too hot, with just the faintest hint of honey sweetening it. Exactly how he'd want tea if he drank tea, which he doesn't—except apparently here he does, and Kakashi made it without asking, without hesitating, like it's muscle memory.
Naruto looks down at his cup and doesn't say anything.
Kakashi is watching him. Naruto can feel it even without looking up.
"Is it wrong?" Kakashi asks quietly.
"No. It's—it's good." Naruto takes another sip just to have something to do. "I don't really drink tea. In my world, I mean."
"Oh." A pause. "Coffee?"
"Usually just water. Or ramen broth."
Something that might be a smile tugs at Kakashi's mask. "That sounds about right."
They sit there, drinking tea, the silence stretching out between them. It's not quite comfortable but it's not unbearable either. Outside the window, Naruto can see Konoha—or a version of it. The buildings are different. Taller. There are lights strung between shops that look electric, not the oil lamps he's used to. And when he cranes his neck, he can just make out the Hokage Monument in the distance.
Only five faces.
"So," Naruto says finally, because the quiet is starting to press against his skull. "How old am I? Your Naruto, I mean."
Kakashi sets his cup down. "Twenty-six."
"Oh."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
Kakashi goes very still. His visible eye widens just slightly, and then he's looking away, jaw tight beneath the mask. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just—" Kakashi picks up his cup again, sets it down, picks it up. His hands need something to do. "That's younger than I thought."
Naruto doesn't know what to say to that.
The silence settles again, heavier this time.
Kakashi seems to shake himself, sitting up a little straighter. "What were you doing right before this all happened?" he asks, his voice shifting into something more practical. Helpful.
"Well, I was with you," Naruto says. "We got drinks. I was upset about Hinata."
"Hinata?" Kakashi's head tilts slightly.
"Uh yeah, she had just broken up with me. Like two weeks ago." Naruto scratches the back of his head, and for some reason he feels embarrassed admitting this. Like he's confessing to cheating or something, which is insane because this Kakashi isn't his boyfriend, and in his world Kakashi isn't his anything except his Hokage and his…friend.
Something about the word ‘friend’ doesn’t land as well as it should, but he decides to ignore the prickling at the back of his head.
"Oh." Kakashi's voice is carefully neutral. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Naruto hesitates. He knows he should feel like an idiot for accepting relationship advice from yet another Kakashi—especially this Kakashi, who apparently dates him in this weird alternate universe. But there's something in the way he's asking, genuine and open, that makes it hard to say no.
"I guess," Naruto starts, staring down into his tea. "She said I didn't love her the right way. That she could tell. And I don't—I don't know what she meant by that." He looks up, meeting Kakashi's eye. "I tried. I really tried to be a good boyfriend. I cared about her. But she said it wasn't enough, or it wasn't the right kind of thing, or—I don't know."
Naruto can see the way Kakashi's shoulders have gone tense, the way his fingers are gripping his tea cup just a little too tightly.
"We don't have to talk about it," Naruto offers. "It must be weird. Hearing about your—about his ex-girlfriend."
Kakashi shakes his head. "It's weird, but not that weird." He takes a breath. "It's good you guys ended things before needing to break off an engagement and cancel on the wedding venue."
The words land heavy in the room.
"Wait," Naruto says slowly. "You mean—your Naruto was engaged? To Hinata?"
"For about three months." Kakashi's voice is carefully even. "Called it off six months before the wedding."
"Oh." Naruto doesn't know what to say to that. "That must have been..."
"Messy." Kakashi sets his cup down. "Yeah. It was messy. Still is, in some ways."
"What do you mean?"
Kakashi is quiet for a moment, and Naruto can see him choosing his words carefully. "Hinata's family is well-respected. The Hyūga clan has a lot of influence in the village. When Naruto broke the engagement—" He stops, jaw working beneath the mask. "People talk. They said he was unreliable. That he didn't think things through. That he couldn't be trusted with important decisions."
"But that's not—" Naruto starts, immediately defensive of himself, of this other version of himself.
"I know." Kakashi's eye meets his. "But it didn't matter. Tsunade-sama was considering stepping down around that time. Naruto was the obvious choice to succeed her. But after everything..." He trails off. "She's still Hokage. Naruto, he…he keeps his head down."
There's something raw in Kakashi's voice. Guilt.
"You think it's your fault," Naruto says quietly as recognition dawns.
Kakashi doesn't deny it. "He gave up a lot. For me. For us."
Naruto opens his mouth to respond—to say what, he doesn't know. That it's not Kakashi's fault? That love is supposed to be worth the sacrifice? That this other version of him probably doesn't regret it? How would he even know?
But the words won't come because suddenly the room is tilting.
Not like earlier, not like the hangover or the disorientation of waking up wrong. This is different. The edges of his vision are blurring, and there's a pull in his chest like someone's hooked a line through his sternum and started reeling him in.
"Naruto?" Kakashi's voice sounds far away even though he's right there across the table. "What's wrong?"
"I don't—" Naruto tries to stand and his legs won't cooperate. The cup slips from his hands. He doesn't hear it shatter. Everything is muffled, distant, like he's underwater. "Something's happening—"
Kakashi moves fast, reaching across the table, but his hand passes through empty air because Naruto is already fading. He can see the panic in Kakashi's eye, can see him shouting something, but the sound won't reach him.
The last thing Naruto sees before the world goes white is Kakashi's outstretched hand, grasping at nothing.
Then he's falling.
Or rising.
Or both.
The sensation is impossible to describe—like being pulled apart and put back together simultaneously, like every atom of his being is screaming in a different direction. It doesn't hurt exactly, but it's wrong, fundamentally wrong in a way that makes his body reject it on instinct.
And then, just as suddenly as it started—
It stops.