#shikafuga

Headcanon that during the war, Fugaku was most well known among the Clan Heads as a Heating Pad/Massager for their injuries and so they kept on bothering him with that 🤣🤣. He compromised that he’ll allow it as long as they bring him coffee, the chance for a nap, or food. 

Shikaku’s required to bring all three to even be listened to. 

—

“Do I get my massage now?”

Uchiha Fugaku looked over to see piles of takeout in one hand and two cups of coffee stacked in the other hand. Shikaku stood holding them cockily, practically preening as Fugaku’s eyes raked over his frame. The other medics rolled their eyes and cleared themselves out for the two lovebirds, one reiterating Inoichi’s half-joke about Shikaku being secretly born to a clan of peacocks under her breath. Fugaku snorted but didn’t dispute it—he’d have to ask that particular rumor the next he saw the former Nara Patriarch. 

Fugaku sighed and put away his charts. “Come here, you ass.” He grabbed one of the pagers and scribbled something on the corner of their whiteboards. “Page me if you need anything!” The medics gave back varying levels of replies, one even replying in a language Shikaku didn’t recognize. Fugaku blushed and defended himself back. “Come on before they start suggesting baby names.”

“Baby names?” Shikaku squawked. Fugaku ignored him.

—

The Medic Break Room was a familiar route for both of them. It led them right into their usual routine—Fugaku stripping as soon as he let go of the door to go take a shower and Shikaku making use of the coffee table to spread their mini-feast. 

“Chouza managed to sneak in some actual food.” He answered and offered the coffee before Fugaku could raise his eyebrow. “Which leads me to the usual pleasantries—the guys say hello, Mikoto’s still being a hellion on the battlefield, and I just got word from home that Itachi’s safe and accounted for by Mikoto’s parents.” He grabbed the other coffee and took a sip. Fugaku barked a laugh at his immediate regret, forgetting he made both coffees for Fugaku’s taste. “I’m seriously considering sending you to Inoichi’s wing with your taste of coffee—coffee and tea? In the same drink??” His boyfriend’s eyes danced with teasing mirth from where he was currently occupying his mouth with food. He gave a half-committal shrug and grabbed his plate to plop into Shikaku’s waiting side.

It was never about the massages. 

“Get some sleep, Fu. I’ll wake you up if anyone pages you.” He softly urges after the food’s been eaten and the rest placed to the side for whoever wants any. He opens his arms to beckon the older into them, wriggling his body to seem more comfortable. Fugaku stares down at him, eyebags even more apparent in the room’s lighting, probably debating on if he’s taken enough of a break for now and should get back to the floor. “You did tell me to fuck off if I’ve got anything less than food, your abomination which I’m somehow still calling coffee, and a nap. So here’s your nap, Fugaku.” Let me hold my boyfriend, Fu. We don’t get to see much of each other—let us make full use of the time we have, he tries to convey with his eyes. Fugaku finally softened at that, letting the coat he was grabbing fall and his body to finally surrender himself to Shikaku’s hold. The couch was, as usual, too small and uncomfortable to fit two grown men, but as even more usual, Shikaku couldn’t find it in himself to switch spots. Not when Fugaku near-instantly fell asleep as soon as he got comfortable and you’d have to pry out all of Shikaku’s teeth to get him to wake him. 

Tsunade checked on them hours later. “Simp,” the medic huff but made no move to take her healer back.

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