Hi Ary! For the touch-starved starters prompt, if you feel like doing it: "I never want to let go." Thanks! 🌺
always always always feel like doing touch starved prompts, even if the answer comes late 😅 Also I sort of snatched this one for a @badthingshappenbingo fill, too! Set after this story (filled previously for the rage against the reflection prompt)
Warnings: brief non-con implication, injury recovery
Genma doesn’t know when Kakashi’s going to wake up. It’s been nearly a day since he tore up his hands in his frustration, and he’s barely even moved from where he collapsed on the bed afterward. Dawn and dusk have come and gone, flickering across his face where it lay silent on the pillow, and now moonlight cuts across a bare cheek that twitches as Kakashi dreams.
There’s no small part of him that wonders if he should wake him, but that might mean forcing him out of one hell and right into another.
At least here in reality he can do his best to help keep the demons at bay, he reasons with himself.
Kakashi’s cries of rage have settled in the back of his mind, a steady hum of hatred and hurt as Genma curls protectively around his back. It’s no small thing he can do this, he knows. Kakashi isn’t a person who trusts. It’s not a matter of ease--it’s a matter of making sure, time and time again, that he knows Genma won’t hurt him like others have.
Those stories make Genma’s chest hurt when Kakashi lets them slip. He tells of people who care of nothing but how useful he is, of people who refuse to acknowledge who he is, and of people who want only to rub it in his face.
All I want is peace, he’d told Genma once. I don’t want this job, this body, this life I’ve been forced into. I want the world, Genma. Can you give me that?
Genma doesn’t know, but he’s tried every day since to be the man who gives Kakashi everything.
His hand fists in the blanket as he presses his forehead into Kakashi’s nape with a low sigh. The night around them is heavy, oppressive, and he lets out a small noise of discontent before skimming his lips over the all-too-prominent ridge of Kakashi’s spine. It’s been too long since he’s held him like this--quiet, no intent in his touch, only the offer of comfort. Kakashi’s missions frequently take him away for a long time, but that doesn’t mean Genma ever adjusts to an empty home.
Not when he knows how Kakashi’s presence fills it with light, life.
Dog hair, too, but Kakashi is worth every mess to Genma.
Sleep is a fleeting companion. It comes in small fits and bursts and when Genma gives up for the last time, golden light begins to blind him as it pools on the bed to illuminate the purple blooming out from under Kakashi’s bandages.
Kakashi’s whisper of you’re staring is the quietest thing he’s ever heard.
“You’re hurt.” Genma is too, bruises of his own spreading across his face from where Kakashi nearly broke his nose, but right now, those matter less than the wounds on Kakashi’s hands. “We should change your bandages.”
Kakashi tucks his hands into his chest, wrists pale and frail as anything as he turns further into the mattress. “You didn’t sleep,” he says, deflecting. “You never do when I come home. You should.” When Genma settles a hand on his shoulder and squeezes softly, he cringes. “Please don’t come too close. Not when I’m awake.”
“I’m sorry,” Genma says, immediately pulling back. The half-foot between them might as well be a gaping chasm, though, so he rolls off the mattress and moves to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of his partner. “Can I see them, at least? I want to make sure you didn’t split the scabs at all.”
Kakashi’s eyes widen and his face begins to curl into a combative snarl as he meets Genma’s gaze, but Genma’s careful placidity must convince him because after a time, he slowly extends his right hand. Genma picked the most glass out of this one and he worries, but the bandages are unstained and still properly wrapped as he turns them over in his hands.
“The other one?” he asks when he’s finished, and to his relief, Kakashi offers it without fighting. “Thank you.”
He considers offering to heal the wounds, but figures it won’t be well received. When Kakashi comes home in this state it’s usually all Genma can do to keep him from drifting away completely, and he knows the pain helps keep Kakashi focused as he works through all the things that happened. It was a process, getting to understand when to say things and when to stay silent, but Genma feels as though they’ve made progress over the last two years.
Still, he asks for one thing.
“Can I hold your hand, Kakashi?”
Kakashi’s fingers twitch, and seconds slip into eternity before he finally nods.
“Thank you,” Genma whispers again. He wants his senbon to chew on, something to worry about in his lips, because he wants nothing more than to bring Kakashi’s knuckles to his mouth and tell him how much he loves him.
He worries that will be too much.
Kakashi’s skin is cool against his, very nearly translucent when he holds the hand into the early morning light. The bruises are a stark contrast, and Genma shuts his eyes against a sudden wave of protectiveness that washes over him.
Kakashi should never hurt like this, ever.
Genma’s eyes remain closed as he hums in answer.
“What are you thinking about?”
He does bring the hand to his lips now, breath ghosting over bandage and skin before he kisses Kakashi’s knuckles ever so softly. “You,” he says truthfully. “And how I’m going to give you the world, and how I never want to let go of this.” He shakes the hand and to his surprise, Kakashi’s cheeks pink before the tiniest noise sneaks out. “What, love?”
“Close your eyes again,” Kakashi says, and Genma does. Kakashi’s hair tickles his face as the other man leans in, then rests his lips against Genma’s. Everything is still, and somehow, in this second, everything is right. The kiss deepens briefly before Kakashi pulls away, Genma aching to chase the sensation.
“You’re everything to me, you know that?” Kakashi whispers. “I don’t say that enough.”
“I should.” Kakashi tugs Genma’s hand to rest over his heart, which thuds erratically below Genma’s fingers. “You should know, in case something ever...goes wrong.” His nails dig into the delicate back of Genma’s hand as he squeezes tighter. “You need to know.”
“All right,” Genma soothes. “Now I know. I know.” He leans forward to rest his head on the edge of the mattress and smiles when Kakashi rests a cheek on his hair. “I can stay, then?”
“Well,” Kakashi says softly, “you need to let me go if you leave, and you don’t want that, so...yeah. Stay. Let me remind myself of what’s really home--you.”
