Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters, terms, and affiliates of Naruto are not mine, but belong to their respective owners, Masashi Kishimoto, TV Tokyo, VIZ &c.

Written at work, so all mistakes are my own. I don't recommend writing fic at work, especially if your back is to the majority of the room. Must mean that I live dangerously.

Reminder

You sometimes forget who he is.

You do get to see the flashes of the scarily talented jounin with jutsu no one has ever seen, but this is only on the days you catch a glimpse of him training with Genma, Raido, and others of his calibre. For the most part, though, you get the sloth-like posture, hand-in-pocket version of Hatake Kakashi. You often leave before he wanders to the training fields, nose in his book, because unlike some people, you have places to be.

But now... right now, he is not taking his time closing the distance between you. Instead, he is walking with a tilt to his head and a set to his shoulders that suggests he is on the hunt for something. You are vaguely aware of Genma close behind him and pull in a deep breath as the older jounin looks you over from boots to dishevelled pink hair. Eyes still on you, he whispers quietly in Kakashi's ear before veering left and disappearing between two tents, and just like that, your focus is back on your rapidly approaching captain.

You have no idea what he could want because the battle to defend against the rogue ninja is done and his men have all been seen to. You are tired, swaying even, from chakra drain, but something in the way he is tugging at his arm guards brings renewed energy shooting through your body.

And an ache low in your stomach.

He grabs you by the hip, turning and pushing at the same time, and growls inside to the top of your head. You can do nothing but stumble ahead of him and move the heavy canvas flap of your tent to the side. The front half of the enclosed space is a makeshift triage area while the back half is your own private quarters. It is to this area that he directs you.

He gives you little time to reactprotestthink before picking you up at the waist as your legs automatically move to clench at his sides. There is a moment of disorientation before your back hits the flimsily padded mattress of your cot and what remaining light is blocked out by his shoulders. His weight settles between your legs and—

Your spine curves with recognition.

Moments like this, in the dark with the smell of battle still in your hair, are happening more often now. But still he waits, heavy and hot and hard against your thigh, for you to say yes, because while you both know he can take it if he wants, you also both want no regrets in the morning.

His breathing is more distinct now, and you know that sometime after entering the tent he has pulled down his mask. A finger down the straight line of his nose confirms this. He follows your finger back until his nose bumps with yours, and the motion causes pressure in your chest so sudden that you have to (must) kiss him to relieve it. He is on you then, sweet and thorough, but is gone just as quickly. And you—

You are reeling.

And mildly annoyed that he pulled back, but you appreciate the thought and intend to forego any more delays. You skim your hands across his shoulders and up his neck until his ears have slotted into the space between your index and middle fingers, thumbs propped against his chin.

"Yes, yes," you say and give a firm tug.

There is no resistance this time, and you are reminded that Kakashi can definitely not be lazy when it counts.