wake me up

For a moment, his gaze moved idly across the crowd before it stilled, lingering longer than it should, drawn toward the sound of laughter he knew too well by then.

You stood half-turned toward someone speaking, lantern light catching along your profile. A loose strand of hair lifted with the breeze, and you brushed it back with an absent gesture he had come to recognize without ever meaning to.

It was a small thing.

And yet it settled quietly in his chest — a familiar feeling he never quite gave permission to grow.

Someone beside you said something, he could not hear what, not from that distance, but he saw the way your shoulders shifted, the way your head tilted back slightly.

And then you laughed again.

The sound carried easily through the lantern-lit air, clean and warm, and something inside him reacted before he could temper it.

His breath faltered, not enough for anyone to notice it, and a faint warmth gathered along the line of his collar, creeping higher, so he shifted his weight slightly to ground himself.

Across the garden, your laughter began to soften. The small group around you continued speaking, someone commented on the ceremony, another lifted a cup in agreement, and you responded automatically, nodding, adding a thought of your own.

But your attention slipped for a moment. The words around you began to blur at the edges, as you felt it. That subtle weight of a steady gaze.

It rested on you with a quiet certainty, and the moment you recognized it, your chest responded without a second thought.

Then it began to bloom—a fragile warmth that expanded slowly through you, softening your expression as it spread. Your gaze lifted without conscious thought.

And there he was. Watching you.

His dark eyes were steady as always, but there was something in his expression that night—the faintest tension along the line of his mouth, as if he had been caught holding a thought for a little too long. He didn’t look away, and the longer he held your gaze, the more your heart forgot its rhythm.

Warmth rose higher, rushing along your collarbones, and you drew in a careful breath to steady yourself. You could not stand there suspended like that forever, so you let your gaze break first to reclaim your footing.

The voices around you returned in fragments, the tail end of a comment about the ceremony, the lift of a cup, the soft hum of agreement. You nodded once, managing a polite reply you barely registered yourself.

“I should—excuse me for a moment.”

A few murmured acknowledgments followed, fading quickly behind you as you turned back to him—and a small smile found its way across your lips. You could have left it there—let the moment remain suspended across lantern light and evening air.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The space between you suddenly felt too much to ignore, so before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped forward.

Petals shifted beneath your feet as you crossed the garden. The music faded behind you, replaced by the quiet awareness of your own heartbeat—a steady pulse warming your chest with each step you took toward him. He watched you come closer, and his pulse shifted in response, though his expression remained carefully composed.

Up close, under the lantern light, you could see what the distance concealed. A pale petal rested in the silver near his temple. Your gaze lingered there for a moment. Then you noticed another one, caught against the dark fabric at his shoulder, stubborn and delicate all at once. Your smile widened, just a little. And before you could hesitate, you lifted your hand.

"The wind seemes determined to decorate you today, Lord Hokage."

You teased gently, and your fingers brushed lightly through the silver near his temple, catching the petal between them.

His pulse jumped at your touch before settling into a quicker rhythm. The warmth that had lingered faintly along his collar rose higher now, brushing beneath the edge of his mask. For someone so accustomed to proximity in battle, this felt entirely different.

For the briefest second, he forgot what he was meant to say. His throat tightened around a response that didn’t quite form.

"I…"

The word left him before he could decide whether it should.

"…Thank you."

It was almost too formal for the moment— the shape of what he’d meant to say slipping away before he could give it voice.

"You’re welcome," you murmured, the petal still caught between your fingers as you let your hand fall back to your side.

The absence of your touch lingered, the space where your fingers had been felt cooler now. You turned your head slightly, attention drifting back toward the celebration—toward the music, the lanterns, the voices rising and falling in easy laughter.

But the warmth in your heart didn’t leave you. It lingered insistently beneath your ribs, and you were acutely aware of how close he stood. Of the fact that you had just touched him without hesitation.

The lantern light caught along your profile again as he watched the way your lashes lowered slightly. The way that quiet warmth still colored your expression.

Then before he could let the silence stretch too long, he cleared his throat softly.

"The celebration is… lively tonight."

You glanced toward the crowd again, grateful for something to hold onto.

"It is," you agreed gently. "They seem very happy."

Your voice was steady but just a little too hushed as you responded.

Silence settled again, and the music swelled faintly in the distance. Laughter rose and fell. Lanterns swayed overhead.

He drew in a slow breath. Because something in him had tipped slightly off balance. His shoulders lifted almost imperceptibly before he called out to you.

"Y/n…"

Your name on his lips sounded softer than ever before—less like a title and more like something meant only for you. He held your gaze now that you’d lifted yours to meet his again—not in hesitation, only to give the moment the weight it deserved.

"Dance with me?"

Your eyes widened, just enough to betray how little you had expected that. A small breath left you, caught somewhere between disbelief and quiet delight.

"You dance?"

The question slipped through your lips before you could stop yourself. A little amused—not to mock him, only surprised.

A flicker of amusement passed through his dark eyes at your reaction.

"Well," he said, shifting his weight just slightly to steady himself, "I was hoping you wouldn’t notice if I stepped on your feet."

There was the faintest trace of self-consciousness beneath the soft curve of his eyes—the kind he disguised with humor when something mattered more than he intended to show.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Then he lifted his hand. His fingers extended toward you with his palm open, an invitation offered without force.

"Humor me?"

Your gaze dropped briefly to his hand. Then back to his eyes. The warmth that had refused to leave your chest unfurled fully then spreaded through you in a quiet sweep that left no room for retreat.

"Gladly."

The corners of your mouth lifted into a warm smile as you placed your hand in his. His fingers closed around yours, not tightly, just firm enough to make the moment feel real. He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Then he stepped closer. His other hand found its place at your waist, warm through the fabric of your clothes, and the distance between you disappeared in a way that felt far more intimate than it had any right to.

You felt the solid line of him, the warmth at your side, the way he drew you in with a careful pull. And when you looked up, he was closer than you realized. Close enough that you could see the way his dark eyes softened when they came to rest fully on you. Close enough to catch the subtle scent of clean fabric and something unmistakably his beneath it—familiar in a way that made your pulse stumble all over again.

Neither of you moved for a moment. Then the music reached you in soft strings, and you were grateful that it was something slow enough to follow without thinking too hard. He guided you into the first step carefully. Then he leaned a little closer, just enough that the air between you warmed. You felt the low murmur of his voice near your ear as he asked quietly:

"Try not to laugh if I mess it up."

The words carried a hint of shyness beneath his usual composure, touched with faint amusement. And your heart skipped at the closeness before you promised softly:

"I won’t laugh at you."

For a few moments, it went surprisingly well. You could tell he was not a practiced dancer, but he found the rhythm, and you knew he was trying. The lantern light turned slowly above you as he guided you through an easy turn, almost confident now.

And then—

He misjudged the next step. His foot brushed too close against yours instead of passing cleanly by, and the shift pulled you forward a fraction more than intended. His hand tightened at your waist to steady you. But you ended up closer than either of you had planned.

Your breath caught faintly.

And then you laughed before you could stop it—the sound soft at first, then brighter, warmer as it filled the space between you.

He went very still at that, but his hand remained steady at your waist, and you felt the shift of his breath against your cheek. His dark eyes narrowed just slightly, not in irritation, but in that fond, mock accusation.

:Liar," he murmured quietly, the word softened by something he didn’t bother to hide.

"Forgive me," you whispered, though the smile still lingered at the corners of your mouth.

Something in his expression eased at your apology. And he exhaled softly, almost as a silent concession, then adjusted his hold just enough to guide you back into the rhythm.

His hand at your waist was steady, the warmth of it constant through the fabric. Your fingers rested more comfortably in his now, not tentative anymore.

The lantern light shifted across his shoulders as you moved, catching briefly in his silver hair. There was a softness in him now, the kind that appeared only when he forgot, for a moment, to keep himself carefully contained.

He was aware of your weight shifting with his. Of the fact that followed without hesitation. Of the quiet trust in the way your hand remained in his.

It felt… right.

He hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected the simple act of moving with you, step for step, breath for breath, to ease something in him that he hadn’t realized had been holding so tight.

He noticed the warmth where you met him. The way your shoulder nearly brushed his chest on the turn. The faint scent of you when you drifted closer.

He told himself it was just a dance.

But the way his pulse calmed now with you in his arms said otherwise.

As the music began to slow and the final notes stretched a little longer, lingering in the lantern-lit air before fading into soft applause from somewhere beyond you, neither of you moved for a moment. Then, slowly, he loosened his hold.

His hand left your waist first, and you stepped back at the same time he did. The night air felt strangely cool now, without his warmth beside yours.

As the last of the music faded, you became suddenly aware of yourself. Of what you had just shared. Of the lingering warmth beneath your skin.

A faint flush had risen along your cheeks, and you were grateful for the forgiving glow of the lanterns as you smoothed an imaginary crease in your sleeve, trying to look anywhere but into those dark eyes.

You hadn’t expected a simple dance to make something unspoken feel so real…

Across from you, he noticed the way your gaze dropped. The way your fingers busied themselves with nothing at all. And something quietly shifted in him. Perhaps he had misread it. Perhaps he had allowed himself to lean too far into something that was only light for you.

He straightened just slightly, the softness in his expression from moments ago folding neatly back into his usual restraint.

He would not press. He would never mistake your closeness for permission. If you needed distance, he would give it. And if this had only been a dance to you, he would accept that, too.

You felt it. Even without looking at him, you could sense the careful distance settling between you again, and something in your chest tightened at the thought.

That wasn’t what you meant. You hadn’t looked away because you didn’t want this. Only because you’d needed a moment to steady your heart. But now the silence felt fragile in a different way.

Your gaze stayed lowered, fixed somewhere near your sleeve, your fingers smoothing the fabric again without reason.

You didn’t know what to say.

Then to calm your heart a little, you drew in a small breath and spoke.

"I… think I need a drink."

The words hung softly between you.

Then, slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his. There was still a trace of warmth on your cheeks you hadn’t quite managed to conceal.

"Do you?"

You held his eyes, searching their depths with a flicker of uncertainty. He simply looked at you, and then the faint tension in him eased at your suggestion.

"A drink sounds like a good idea."

The corners of his dark eyes curved softly to that familiar crescent—it was something he did when he chose to let a moment rest instead of complicate it. It wasn’t a full smile. Not truly now. But there was enough warmth in it to make you feel a little more at ease.

He inclined his head toward the long table set beneath the trees, where bottles caught the lantern glow and porcelain cups waited in careful rows.

You fell into step together, petals shifting softly beneath your shoes as you crossed the garden once more. The music drifted behind you now, gentler at this distance with quiet conversation and the soft clink of cups.

You slowly neared the table, reaching for two without quite looking at him. The porcelain felt cool in your hands, a small contrast to the warmth that hadn’t quite faded from your chest. You offered one to him. He accepted with a quiet nod, fingers brushing yours briefly as he took it.

Neither of you spoke for a moment. The pause was not too long, but your thoughts began to crowd anyway. You became suddenly aware of the space beside you, of the fact that there were a dozen things you could say but none of them felt right.

Before the silence could grow heavier, he lifted his cup in a quiet applause.

"To the newlyweds."

You glanced toward the bride and groom, toward the way they leaned into one another, smiling with unfiltered joy, and nodded softly.

"To them,"

Porcelain met porcelain carefully after that and you both took a sip to ground yourselves. The warmth of the drink spread slowly, but it did little to ease your awareness of him beside you.

You lowered your cup first, then immediately, you wished you hadn’t. Because now there was nothing left to occupy your hands. The silence returned, and so did the memory of his hand at your waist. The way he had leaned closer and asked you not to laugh at him.

You should speak. You really should. And you cursed yourself for not being able to find your voice.

He noticed the shift in your breathing, the way your fingers tightened around the porcelain. And for a fleeting moment, the thought itself was perhaps too reckless and unguarded, he considered closing the space between you again.

Not for another dance. Just to feel your warmth beneath his hand once more, to see that softness return to your face.

His hand almost moved at the same time as your lips as you decided to speak, but then—

Gai burst between you with a booming laugh, an arm sliding around Kakashi’s shoulders as though the space had always belonged to him.

"Rival! You’re not brooding at a wedding, are you?"

Kakashi’s dark eyes twitched once.

Then he turned his head slightly toward the source of the disruption.

"…Gai."

Kakashi shot Gai a look that should, by all means, have been enough to silence him.

Gai only beamed wider, squeezing Kakashi’s shoulders with enthusiastic force.

"You’re at a wedding! You must enjoy yourself!"

Kakashi attempted to shrug the arm off with surprising patience.

"Get off, will you?"

Then you found yourself speaking before you could even reconsider.

"It’s all right," you said, a small smile returning to your lips. "He wasn’t brooding."

Gai blinked at you.

You glanced briefly at Kakashi, just long enough for him to catch the warmth lighting up your eyes again.

"He was dancing a moment ago."

Gai’s eyes opened wide and he gasped dramatically to emphasize his disbelief.

"Kakashi? Dancing?!"

He whirled toward you, his eyes sparkling with unrestrained delight, as his boisterous energy increased tenfold.

"My dear, you must tell me… was he dreadful? Did he step on your toes? Did he…?"

Kakashi moved before he could finish and reached over to clamp a hand firmly over Gai’s mouth, shooting him a glare that would have ended most conversations.

"…Don’t answer that."

His voice was flat but the tips of his ears burned red beneath the edge of his mask.

You cleared your throat lightly, though the smile that was tugging at your lips was impossible to hide by now.

"Not really,"

Gai leaned forward eagerly despite the hand still clamped over his mouth.

"He only stumbled once."

Your gaze shifted briefly to Kakashi before you continued.

"But it was… rather adorable, coming from the Sixth Hokage."

Gai let out a muffled shriek of delight beneath Kakashi’s hand, squirming like an overgrown child barely containing himself.

Kakashi, meanwhile, went very still at hearing the endearment slip so easily from your lips. His dark eyes widened just a fraction before narrowing into a half-hearted glare aimed directly at you.

Adorable?

Him?

No one had ever—

"…Traitor," he muttered under his breath, but there was no real bite to it. If anything, his grip on Gai loosened slightly, distracted by the way your smile lit up your eyes so shamelessly this time.

Gai sensed his weakness immediately and with impressive agility, ducked out of Kakashi’s hold to seize your hands instead.

"You, my dear, are a SAINT for enduring him!" he declared with his usual enthusiasm. "Let us dance properly—no stomping, no sulking, just YOUTHFUL PASSION—"

Kakashi moved faster at that. His hand shot out and caught Gai’s wrist mid-gesture.

"No."

It was a warning.

But beneath the edge of it, there was the faintest thread of disbelief and something dangerously close to a plea.

Gai blinked twice.

Then wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ahhh. I see how it is ~ !”

And Kakashi very seriously considered tossing him into the koi pond right then.

Gai lingered only a moment longer, grinning like he had uncovered something of great importance. Then, with one last emphatic nod, he clapped Kakashi once on the shoulder and stepped back.

"I will not stand in the way of such youthful romance!"

Kakashi’s gaze shifted to him.

Just for a moment.

There was the faintest pause—something in the set of his shoulders tightened, just slightly, at the phrasing.

Of course he would say that.

Gai beamed, entirely unbothered. And just as suddenly as he had inserted himself into the moment, he turned, already moving, already calling out to someone else across the garden.

Noise followed him, then faded. The space he left behind settled into something softer.

Kakashi exhaled. It was slow and controlled. And for a moment, he didn’t move. Then his attention returned to you.

Fully, this time.

There was no trace of the earlier distraction left in his expression. Only that same quiet focus, more present now, as if something in him had finally aligned.

He held your gaze for a moment.

Time seemed to stall briefly before he asked,

"Can we go somewhere quieter?"

His voice was even, carefully measured—like he chose the words before he let them reach you.

A faint warmth rose to your cheeks again, softening your features as you drew in a small breath. Then you nodded, understanding took hold in your heart of what this was, of what he was asking without saying it outright.

"…Alright."

Your voice was a little quieter than before—fitting into the stillness between you.

He didn’t reach for you—just turned and began to walk, but his pace left enough room for you to fall into step beside him.

The garden opened around you as you moved, lantern light thinning the farther you went. The music faded even more behind you, voices blending into something distant as the celebration slipped further away. Petals shifted underfoot as you moved. And at some point, the path narrowed—trees drawing closer, shadows deepening just enough to soften the world beyond. He said nothing at first, as he came to a stop. The sounds of the celebration felt more distant from here.

Then he turned toward you and his gaze found yours once again. There was something different in the dark depth of it now.

It held steady, just a fraction more open than before, as if whatever he was about to say had already been thought through carefully.

He drew in a breath, then let it out slowly, easing into what he was about to say.

"…I don’t have much experience with this kind of thing..."

The words that left his masked lips were measured, placed deliberately rather than offered all at once.

“But leaving it unspoken doesn’t feel right.”

A faint warmth lingered beneath your ribs, tightening slightly as you held his gaze.

"…Somewhere along the way…"

He spoke more slowly now, as if finding the shape of what he truly wanted to say.

"…you became important to me."

“…Much more than I expected.”

Your heart gave a sudden thrum as the meaning of his words sank in. And your hands tightened slightly at your sides, fingers curling into fists to anchor yourself.

But you didn’t look away. Not when he was saying something he didn’t say easily.

He watched you for a moment.

The way you held his gaze—unwavering—was answer enough to let him continue.

"…I don’t expect you to feel the same."

A small pause.

“…I know I’m not exactly the easiest person to deal with.”

The briefest hesitation.

"…But I wanted you to know."

The words hung between you, heavier than you had expected, and You didn’t answer right away. You just couldn’t.

Your thoughts scattered, trying to catch up with what he had just said. Then you looked at him—at the way he held himself, still collected, but not untouched by the weight of what he felt.

You took a deep breath. It anchored you just enough to respond.

"…You’re not the only one who isn’t exactly easy…"

Your gaze drifted down, the moment sat heavy in your chest— in a way you didn’t quite want to let go of.

"…and I don’t know if I could be what you need."

For a moment, it looked like he might reach for you—but the motion faltered before it could fully form. His dark eyes rested on you, taking in your expression—calm, grounded as if giving you something to hold onto.

"…That’s not how I see it," he said at last, the words spoken softly but certain.

“…I’m not looking for easy.”

A beat passed between you.

"…I’m looking for you."

You went still, just for a beat, but your heart kept beating too fast—like it wouldn’t slow. Not with him standing there like that, saying all those things so assuredly.

"…Are you sure?"

His dark eyes studied yours—just long enough to catch what was underneath that question.

Then—

"I’ve never been more sure."

He said it simply.

"Things feel quieter... with you around."

His eyes softened just slightly, and you couldn't look away. Your mind went completely blank, like everything you thought you understood had been overturned in an instant. Heat rose to your cheeks as you stood there, swept up in it all and in what you felt.

"…I don’t—"

A small, breathless pause.

"That’s not…"

You shook your head, then let out a sigh, looking away briefly to gather yourself. Only then did you dare to meet his gaze again, a little more certain, a little more honest this time.

"…I think I was always looking for you, too..."

For a second, he didn’t say anything. Then something shifted in his expression, and, slowly, he stepped closer. Not all at once, not to impose—just enough that the space between you began to feel… different.

His gaze lingered on you, searching—not for permission exactly, but for any sign that you might draw back.

Then, slowly, he lifted a hand. There was a hint of hesitation before his fingers finally brushed against your cheek.

You smiled—it was soft, a little uncertain again, but real. And he answered it with one of his own. Then, slowly, he leaned in— not fully yet, just closing part of the gap between you.

Your hand lifted, almost without thinking, fingers brushing lightly against the edge of his mask. He paused—not to pull away, just stilling as his gaze held yours.

You did the same. And then, he nodded. Your fingers curled a little more firmly into the fabric as you pulled it down. Slowly, carefully—as if anything less would feel wrong in this moment.

Your eyes traced the lines of his face, now bare for you, and a quiet warmth spread in your chest, almost enough to ache. His hand remained at your cheek, gaze warm and steady as it lingered on you. Then, gradually, he closed the rest of the distance.

His lips met yours gently—soft enough that it almost felt like a question at first.

He stayed there, unhurried, a little too careful even… But when you leaned into it, just slightly, something in his chest settled. The hesitation faded completly, like whatever had held him back until then finally gave way. And there was nothing uncertain about it anymore. Not in the way he held you, not in the way the kiss deepened—still careful, but no longer tentative. Like he had allowed himself this—like he had waited for it, for you, far longer than he had ever meant to admit.

It was only later, when the thought ever began to form, that you hadn’t expected this at all.

Not here, not beneath the quiet canopy of trees, as the night settled softly around you both.

And yet—you stayed there, close to him, his lips still against yours, easing something deeper than words, every lingering hesitation, every guarded edge, until all that was left was a quiet sense of finally belonging.

Because somewhere beneath the rush of it all, you understood it with a clarity that didn’t need words.

That this—him—was not something you would ever take lightly.

that he would do the same, too.

That you would hold him carefully, cherish even the smallest moments. And there wasn’t a single doubt in your heart—

that he would do the same, too.

---

Author's note: It took me 10 years of my lifespan to remove all the repetitions...💀

Anyway, i hope you enjoyed it. 🥰

Him: Im getting kisses, i think i like this 🥰

-

Also:

A few weeks later