#(sakumo)

“I like this, being so close to you.” Orochimaru mumbled, husky voice coated with sleep and softness only love could bring. For the first time in months they had had some time for themselves, nothing to worry about or fight against, and so he found himself there — lying on Sakumo’s chest, skin to skin, enjoying the other’s warmth and heartbeat. A dainty finger traced nonsensical patters over the expanse of Sakumo’s chest, not a care in the world for the first time since they left Konoha. “I finally feel at home. Here with you, this, this is home.” The dark-haired male sighed happily, hoisting himself up a bit so he could place a gentle kiss to Sakumo’s lips — reverent, delighted, completely in love with Hatake Sakumo.

perhaps this is what a normal life would be like. lying pressed against the man he loves on a lazy sunday morning, light leaking in through the blinds, painting pale skin in shades of gold. watching orochimaru rest on his chest, rising and falling with every breath. warm bodies connected, hands carding through his lover’s long, silky hair. heavenly, he thinks. like he’s died and gone to heaven.

but sakumo hasn’t needed to die to achieve such peace, and perhaps that is the most wonderful thing of all. they’d managed to shed the skin of a life of senseless war and meaningless death ( and he catches himself thinking in serpentine metaphors, and he laughs. orochimaru’s influence invades even his thoughts ), in order to truly live, elsewhere, else-wise. their escape, a gift that keeps on giving. a life of normalcy, of a promised future for their young, of days full of sweet words and soft touches.

“are you warm enough, darling?” always a worrier, sakumo tugs lightly on the blanket to draw it up over orochimaru’s bare shoulders. cold-blooded as he is, he clings to sakumo’s warmth like bathing in the sun. but he won’t ever let the snake feel cold again, not while his arms and their bed lay waiting to wrap him up. not while his heart burns for him so strongly, so perpetually. there will always be a fire in their hearth. there will always be a warm, happy home for him to return to. he’ll make sure of it.

sakumo makes a quiet, contented sound, voice rough with sleep in return. “and what a beautiful home we’ve made together.” does he mean the village? or the self-contained world of their bodies and lives, intertwined? it hardly matters; it is all one in the same in sakumo’s eyes. he returns orochimaru’s kiss, lazy and sweet, smiles against his lips. when he pulls away, he doesn’t go far, rests his forehead against the side of orochimaru’s face. speaks, almost humming, so the words vibrate against his cheek. close. i want to be close to you always. my love, my home. oh, how hopelessly romantic old age has made him.

“You look cozy…” Orochimaru’s husky voice made itself heard as he walked into the room, golden eyes shining beautifully as they took in the sight of the man he loved and his - their - son, cuddling away, basking under the light of the setting sun. He walked up to them, leaning over to place a soft kiss against the crown of Sakumo’s head, one hand gently running its fingers through Kakashi’s hair. He had missed them so much. “Do you mind if I join in?” he asked, a shy smile taking over his face as he peered down at the older man.

when orochimaru is away, sakumo is unsettled. he's so used to them acting as a unit now ( and it surprises him, how a lone wolf like him still knows how to crave partnership and closeness, after all this time ) that the village, and certainly their home, feels emptier without the other. sakumo is responsible, never one to shirk his duties, and he spends more time patrolling the streets than usual, an anxious flutter in his chest, a steadfast determination that nothing will harm this most precious thing of orochimaru's while he is abroad.

kakashi can sense his dis-ease, he suspects, the way the child is clingier and more agitated. at night, he'll only sleep curled up against his father's side. sakumo is thankful, oddly, for the distraction and dotes on kakashi all he can to pass the time for them both ( he feels a little guilty that he can't hide his emotions better. the last thing he's ever wanted was to upset his son ).

when orochimaru returns, when he enters the house, sakumo knows instantly, feels the pull of familiar chakra. he smiles, but doesn't rise to greet him. kakashi had wanted to stay up and wait for orochimaru's return, but as the evening light fades, exhaustion overtakes his small body and he lays on sakumo's chest now, in that place between resting and wakefulness. he can't risk jostling the child who is finally close to sleep, after a week of fussiness and agitation. instead, he waits long moments for orochimaru to reach their room. and he's beautiful as he crosses the threshold ( and so wonderfully alive, a quiet, relieved part of him says ).

there is something so precious about being touched gently by such a frightfully powerful shinobi. before he replies, sakumo shifts slightly, cranes his neck upwards to reach orochimaru's lips. a proper greeting between lovers.

"please. we've missed you." his voice is quiet, and he gestures to kakashi against his chest, barely awake but not quite settled. sakumo drops his voice further, hopes the rumble of it doesn't cause the boy to stir. "he wanted to stay up and see you, but you know how he gets." this isn't the first time orochimaru has been away, and it isn't the first time kakashi has become restless in his absence ( like father like son ). "he's tired himself out, i think. but he'll be so happy to see you in the morning."

old habits, as they say, and sakumo is not a young man. he's been a light sleeper for as long as he can remember, as most good shinobi are, trained to stir at the slightest sound, the subtlest movement. its a sudden lack of warmth that wakes him tonight, and it alerts him that something has shifted, something is missing. amidst his grogginess, in the confusion of the hours before dawn, he thinks they are still on the run. that they are stateless and wanted. and that the empty space next to him, with its rapidly fading warmth, can only mean that his son has been ripped out of his sleeping arms.

sakumo doesn't mean to be so violent with his movements as he jolts upright, but he is preparing for a fight or a frantic search. orochimaru's voice catches him, though, melodic and soft in the quiet night. and he remembers where he is - in their shared bed, in the home they've made, in the village they've built - and that kakashi is down the hall, in his own room. sleeping soundly. sakumo remembers that, at least for the moment, they are all three safe.

what's set him off is orochimaru's shifting weight in bed and he chastises himself for the instincts he can't forget ( oh how an old soldier like him makes for a poor companion ) and for disturbing the other's sleep in the process. but orochimaru's expression is something unspeakably tender, and sakumo is met with sweetness, with eyes like moonlight, with gentle patience. an expression that silences any apology on his lips. sakumo hums something appreciative instead, voice still rough with sleep, and settles back into their bed. back into orochimaru's warmth.

I was thinking abt aus where sakumo lives bc I don’t want to fuck w or disrespect this pivotal moment in kakashi’s story, right? Like this is the first loss he has and it pushes him towards his rule-following self. BUT I think it could be just as effective if sakumo is disgraced and basically forced into retirement and seclusion. like he stops leaving the hatake home and is deeply depressed bc of the scrutiny of the village.

he is SHUNED by the village, basically dishonourably discharged. and it’s like - all his work, all his loyalty never mattered to the village bc of one choice (that he believes was the right choice). And kakashi is left to grow up with this spectre of what happens, even to the strongest and best of them, if they don’t follow the rules. how they’re shamed and shunned into seclusion and silence. how quickly a community turns on one of its own. how quickly a life is destroyed.

BUT I have this feeling. there are Big changes in the leaf that happen during and before canon. like, big upheavals. minato becomes hokage so there’s a change in leadership, and then there’s the ninetails attack. so I have an inclination that sakumo does smth the village deems worthy again and is able to re-emerge but there’s this . weird collective amnesia abt how they treated him. like “OH, THE WHITE FANG, HE’S A HERO!!” but no one ?? will mention the years of isolation and being shunned.

the fickle public just decides to forget that they hate sakumo bc he saves a bunch of lives during the ninetails attack or smth. And bc minato is his son’s sensei so they have like, social status again. and when minato dies there’s also this like, I feel, temporary reverence for anyone who was tangentially related to him (except Naruto lmao). so sakumo gets elevated back into the status of a hero. he gets out on missions again, he gets to captain teams, ppl respect him. He’s the white fang once again! and he’s sitting here w all this Discomfort and Distain. he remembers what the village seems to forget. but he can’t leave, can’t turn it away bc he needs the income to raise his son. and the sudden change of their social status will be good for kakashi, right?