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To join, in matrimony, is a gift, a blessing, a miracle. To join, in matrimony, is a sacred occasion, where in the witness of the families of both sides, two become one.
To join in matrimony, in his opinion, is a big fucking pain and if Izumi shows him another cake that is the same taste and design as the last 30 ones, he's going to upend this table right where it stands.
“Izumi-san,” Kakashi hums, his politeness entirely diplomatic. “I suggest that we wrap up for the day. Take the suggestions home, tally up votes for others, reconvene later. It's getting quite late for all of us.”
It is quite possibly the most thickly layered can we leave please I want to go home that he can't help but blink in mute admiration as Izumi closes a lot of folders and returns them to reception.
“You,” he leans over to his fiance, “are a bloody godsend.”
“I can't feel my tongue anymore, Obito,” Kakashi whispers back, mask brushing against his cheek. “How do I eat dinner? How do I cook dinner?”
Obito pats his fiance, his beloved, his idiot in every aspect from legally to financially, across his pale brows, and whispers back with no less amount of sadistic glee. “Well I guess you'll just have to eat my cooking and find out, hey, Kashi-chan?”
Kakashi wastes no time in replying. “Suddenly I have functional taste buds again.”
“Oh no! Spicy tofu, I hear you ask! Who am I to tell my beloved no on his most ardent request?” He proclaims loudly and obnoxiously, because he's a brat through and through. Kakashi hisses like a cat caught under a sewerage upending over his perfectly styled coat of hair that he spent over two hours in front of the mirror grooming and occupying the bathroom, locked and out of access, so that the other person sharing his apartment can't get in to perform back biological urinating functions.
Little sweet Obito isn't taking vengeance on his fiance. He's just being a good and lovely spouse-to-be and taking care of his beloved. Well, if part of that campaign includes Kakashi's tongue being completely singed by the spiciest chillis in the signature curry of life and subsequent spicy tofu, then that is really unfortunate for him.
They agreed, rather quickly, that there must be a Shinto wedding.
That ticked off what they should wear for formal seeing ceremonial robes, or so they assumed.
Where they live is still very much homophobic and legally prevents the two of them to hold a legal civil ceremony that binds the two of them in a married couple unit. The koseki is a lukewarm compromise, but it's not as if they weren't in each other's family registries already before deciding on a wedding.
“Two grooms,” the tailor purses her lips with open disdain. “Well I suppose we'll just have two hakama.”
“Actually,” Kakashi steps forward, because he believes in making eye contact in order to establish trust and because he is on a path to ruin someone's day, “we have a few modifications that we would love to incorporate into our ceremonial robes, to celebrate the occasion.”
Obito heard this tone before. This is the exact same tone his fiance use before they swindled someone in Switzerland of all his earthly possessions and intervened a drug trade from occurring using the guy's credit card.
The tailor, if anything, grows even more agitated.
“You want to incorporate kimono elements onto your hakama,” she states.
Kakashi grins through his mask, a shit eating tilt to his lips undoubtedly.
“I'm sorry for my partner and his stupid ways, but we are also making a statement,” he intervenes, before needles are making appearances and he has to extricate sharp pointy objects from beyond Kakashi's epidermis.
“I can tell very well what you two are doing,” she sighs, flipping through the designs Minato and Rin painstakingly photoshopped. “I'm not against any of it. In fact, you can find that I particularly do not care whatever the hell you choose to wear on your wedding day. You might as well wear pyjamas or a set of scuba diving gear. I would not care. However, this is in a week and I can only compromise with accessories or,” she aggressively flips another page and stares right at Obito. “You, you can wear a kimono,” she declares, shutting the folder shut.
For a moment, Obito is too stunned to even reply.
Kakashi meanwhile jumps right into it.
“Uh, may I ask...why?”
Obito knows he's shorter. With an overall prettier face, on virtue of him showing it around everywhere while Kakashi's is perpetually masked in mystery. He's more temperamental. Takes care of all the domestic chores. It's not a surprise to see him chase Kakashi to work with lunch. Assumptions are made, and he is assumed to be the ‘woman’ of this relationship.
“Don't make that face,” the woman, someone with just a name and enviously no family connection, Mabui or Shabu Shabu, rolls her eyes. “The kimono would fit you better because you wanted to carry the ceremonial kaiken. The hakama doesn't have an obi where you can tuck a knife in. Or a purse. Or a fan and your collection of,” she curls her fingers into exaggerated air quotes, "army of deadly and murderous bobby pins.”
Kakashi laughs right at his face with no remorse or love or forgiveness or understanding. He gnashes his teeth at both humans, grumbling his dissent at his totally valid labels of his sharp and black ops regulated defensive bobby pins.
“Also,” Mabui hands him back the folder, “You're a bit fatter so the kimono will be able to hide your stomach flabs when you try it on. Have a nice day. Payments will be forwarded to you when the robes arrive.”
Kakashi laughs at him without breathing throughout the whole car ride home.
A conversation about costs -
“Obito, honey, darling, the fan of my fire, how the fuck are we meant to afford twelve ice statues and a chocolate fountain?”
“I got it covered, don't worry, Bakashi.”
“I know you think you're cute when the nicknames come out, but trust me, it is not. Did you steal someone's money for this? Hack a bank account? Sell your kidneys on the internet?”
“No, what? No. Seriously, I took some savings out of our accounts, because we do get paid, well , and we don't spend much on stupid shit like antique swords and decorative imported fans from an obscure town from Rice, so we do have some funds. Also uncle Madara gave us a shit ton of money. Rest easy.”
“Uncle Madara? Madara ?”
“Oh, you know him. Old, grumpy, has a habit of bullying village founders, also stupidly gay for people whose name start with Hashirama and end with Senju, stupid long hair, fucking loaded, he fully supports and says 'Put that on my cards' and left me with a lot of money. Now about that ice statues and chocolate fountains…”
“I can't fucking believe your literal clan leader said No man is marrying any man from my clan and your distant as fuck great uncle whatever many times removed just gave you - a shit load of money holy shit that's a lot - to prepare for your ostentatious gay wedding.”
“Fugaku is a bag of dicks and you should not pay any mind to him. I want like, a lot of chocolate dog statutes. So I can Instagram them.”
“If you're getting 12 then we can get the zodiac animals. All in like, 2 rows.”
“You have brains after all, stupid husband.”
“You watch out today, Uchiha.”
“Not for long, fellow Hatake ~"
Their conversation regarding which family names they are taking upon the registration of the koseki goes exactly like this -
“I hate the Uchiha clan,” Obito says, without preamble, when they are pulling back a dog and adjusting a brat between their respective two shoulders and functional three hands.
“I...gathered?” Kakashi answers back, with genuine difficulty as Naruto knees him in the knee. “Take the blonde menace, Obito, I can't .”
“And as such, I'll be marrying into your clan,” Obito swiftly pulls Naruto into a piggy back cuddle onto his back and Kakashi skids to a stop on the pavement.
“Just like that? Won't your clan riot? Won't your clan persecute you?”
“They already do that on the regular anyways, it's not a big deal. Besides, Sakumo loves me. You're marrying me, so you obviously has some form of tolerance towards my ways of living, and so it makes sense for me, the oppressed one eye man, to marry into your clan.”
“But Obito, my clan could be shitty too. I already have half a Sharingan and I can fight a good eighty percent of your clan on a bad day. Wouldn't it be better if I marry into yours instead?”
“Don't be stupid, Bakashi. Your clan is just you and your dad. Mine hates me. I don't want them to hate you as well. Let the adult do the paperwork.”
“ I do all the paperwork at home, you pretentious brat.”
“Kakashi,” he takes a deep and and shit eating breath in, “let the adult do all the work.”
“But I want to be your trophy husband, a glorified Uchiha spouse, so that I can pull the I'm Mr Uchiha Kakashi when I introduce myself,” Kakashi mumbles, scuffing his shoes into the ground in front of him.
“Is it because of the Sharingan?” He asks, with more gentleness and sympathy than mockery, although an element of judgement is there. It's always there whenever he's being a shit, and usually that is when he's talking with Kakashi.
“Yes, and also because it sounds much better than Hatake Obito.”
Obito says the name under his breath.
“Gee, brat, I don't know, Hatake Obito sounds alright to my ear.”
Kakashi makes a distinctive sound that is You're right, but I'm going to disagree because I don't want to prove your point and he laughs, entwines their hands, which is only a smooth motion because of the sheer number of times they failed to get it right, and pulls Kakashi to the direction of Kushina's house.
At the san san kudo, it is not a surprise to see Mikoto standing in as Obito's mother. Similarly, seeing Kushina as Kakashi's surrogate mother is not a surprise.
What is surprising is that Minato stands at Mikoto's left, beaming brilliantly at Kakashi and he distinctly remembers this conversation happening but woe betide him as he promptly forgot it as soon as phone calls happen.
Obito, brilliantly dressed in pristine white, grins a lopsided smirk at him from under the elaborate hairdo. Seriously. It has all of Obito's army of pointy pins and needles, to which he isn't even a tad apologetic as Naori stabbed needles into his hair, and Kakashi has half a mind to adjust his own veil so it stays obscured across his face and that no matter how many unfortunate accidents break out over their heads, there is no way people can find out what he looks like.
Minato winks at him as he takes a sip of the wine. Somebody did something to it, because it's sickening and sweet, something a ceremony that symbolises the holy trinity of married life hatred, passion and ignorance, shouldn't be.
He slants an eye across to Sakumo. Knowing his father, he probably insisted on love, happiness and wisdom, because he's good and pure and believes in the world like that.
What an old sentimental fool. Minato probably insisted on that too.
They rise, fetching the bouquets he and Obito painfully arranged to a standard Ino and Sakura deemed worthy of the reverent Mikoto and Kushina, and solemnly hand the women the bouquets first.
Sakumo breaks into actual and legitimate tears when Obito shyly hands him his bouquet, lilacs and lilies swaying as the man crushes them in his grip.
“He's going to lose it at the ceremony,” he mutters, though there is a degree of fondness in his tone. “And all the photos will be everywhere across the five nations.”
“Be nice to your father, Kakashi,” Kushina nudges him, hard.
“I haven’t even started on your husband yet, Kushina-san,” he sighs, “look at him.”
They do not look at him. Sakumo might have been sniffling, but Minato is fully sobbing, tears everywhere. Obito had been administering the Sympathy Back Rubs onto his former sensei for a solid ten minutes now, and with every passing second, Minato cries even harder.
“He just has a lot of feelings,” Sasuke with a fancy camera, most likely a present he whined and complained his way to obtain, directly from Madara’s debit card, says, with no degree of sympathy. The words, from anyone else, would have been a nerdy little reference to Mean Girls, but with Sasuke, he meant it to hurt. The look on his face is just plain nasty .
For a moment there, Kakashi is glad he didn’t marry into the Uchiha clan. Having to bear with Sasuke in a classroom is bad enough. Having to bear with him as an in-law will just be the tenth level of hell. Sign him out, please.
Obito is finally released from Minato Consolation Services, and stands close to him, not because there are cameras everywhere, but if they stand close enough nobody will try to tear them apart to ‘catch up’ or complete any inane chores that somehow, on their wedding day, they are expected to fulfil.
“Well, that’s over and done with,” Obito grins at him, all brilliantly bright-eyed with pollen on his upper lip.
Kakashi leans down, veil dropping from the top of his head, and cascading in a curtain of white lace around their faces. When he leans back and adjusts his veil, the constellation of pollen is gone and Obito had gone even more brilliantly pink, just as bright as the carnations Kakashi sent him that morning.
“I don’t like you,” his fiance pouts, even though their hands are still brushing close together.
“Hmm, I bet that’s the exact reason why you’re marrying me,” he grins back, knocking their ring fingers together, identical silver bands clinking. “And I’m sure I can get over it.”
Obito’s face goes up a shade to blood red, and Kakashi had never been more delighted.
The reception is all sorts of chaos and fun, as a party with alcohol, Kushina, Anko and Gai might ensue.
Minato becomes emotional after Kakashi delivered his short but meaningful thank you speech for being his dumb genius older brother and for always being my pillar of support even though I laughed at you when you said you got engaged.
It had its own Kakashi-esque flavours of friendly bullying and abuse. It’s so good that even Naruto and Gai end up bursting out in fountains of tears.
The resulting flying tissue slaps to their faces, courtesy of Sakura and Tenten, is all too good for him to put down the camera.
There are currently three in motion - his, to zoom in unnecessarily on people’s reactions and to make a meme gifset later on - Sasuke’s, the professional Canon whatever edition he has, pointing with a disdainful sweep of the events, a terrible record of everything, really, because that’s just who he is - and Sakumo, who had just been recording and providing Kakashi personal fancam for about twenty minutes now, ever since his son stepped into the reception hall in an elaborate kimono of swirling grey and deep maroon.
That fancam will go viral very quickly and very disastrously.
He's here for it.
They're greeting guests, entertaining a litany of questions from Naruto and Shisui, in which one is being genuinely caring and one is just being a plain little shit, in that respective order. They're fending off the little menaces and he turns when that little rustle is heard, the distinctive shuffle of industrial window climbing boot soles atop roofs before -
An explosion of glass rain down onto a lot of elaborate hairdos and enraged screaming erupts, mostly because their get up is now all ruined catch that glass raining bastard!
Obito knows disaster would follow him, even on his wedding day.
Especially if Disaster wears the faces of Deidara and Hidan, then yeah, it will bug him until he takes up that reconstructive facial surgery and maybe they'll leave him alone.
“Swarm, and blow shit up, minions!” Hidan barks, and Deidara excitedly blows up a dragon ice statue in agreement.
He sighs, and reaches for the arsenal of bobby pins in his hair. Kakashi is already off firing tranquiliser bullets, drawn from the inside of his obi no less.
He's paying close attention to where Kushina and Mikoto had directed the majority of the guests, to the nearest exit, which, good, because nobody needs to see him incapacitate someone with his thighs.
Shisui and Itachi meanwhile had teamed up and started fending off the overworked and nameless grunts piling their way. Shisui is busy with Sasuke slung over his shoulder, a butter knife and a paper plate. Standing back to back to him is Itachi, beatifically wielding a plastic straw like one would with a sword, and they make a terrifying duo on top of a fucking bizarre one.
Someone taps his shoulder and if he hasn't spent literal years with this brat and fighting side by side then Kakashi would have found himself with one less functional spine. He spins in a showy ballroom move, and grips Kakashi by the hips as he stabs Deidara by the inside of his elbow through the gap between Kakashi’s hips and bent arm.
Anatomy is difficult. He did the Stabbing, there is one less screaming escaped international terrorist on a rampage. Spinning in a fast waltz, his fiance shooting and holding him firmly by the shoulder as he steps in closer and further as bullets zip past them. He feels Kakashi simultaneously reaches into the base of his hair, pulling out the small kaiken he tucked into the hairdo this morning and dipping him as a one-armed sword duel slices by his sternum as he is thrown back on his back. He snaps back up in a half leg twirl and slams a high-heeled slipper onto the back of Hidan's knees.
He buckles and goes down on a knee. Obito barely has time to coo mockingly before Kakashi gets there and incapacitates the second escaped-detainment terrorist on the back of his neck and he drops face first onto the spilt tomato juice that Naruto happened sheer minutes before the Glass Rain happened.
“Urgh,” he complains, shaking out the dust and glass shards from his hair, “great, now we have to fend the questions.”
“Use the same excuse as last time, or do you have anything more creative?” Kakashi nudges Deidara with his toed loafers, nose crinkling through his mask.
“Really dramatic and violent jealous ex?” He tries, and takes Kakashi's proffered hand.
“I hate it. Let's roll with it.”
They're watering the bougainvillea when Kakashi snaps his fingers in that frantic chaotic rhythm he does whenever he remembers something important that he should have remembered way before the occasion had passed.
“Yes,” he points the hose at his now husband's toes, because the bastard actually doesn't believe in shoes and is barefoot everywhere.
“We didn't exchange vows!”
“Is that,” he blinks, “something we should have done.”
“No, but I wrote a speech for you. They don't really do this, unless you're way out in Iwa, look, Obito, indulge me.”
When Kakashi gets like this, wide-eyed and childlike and bright and ridiculously hopeful and full of love and admiration for him, he can't win. He just has to -
"Why are you on your knees, in the gross muddy water.”
To emphasise his point, he points the hose at Kakashi's knees that are touching the ground.
His husband doesn't even react. He just informs him that laundry duty will be on him that week.
“Listen, Obito, Obito, my dumb genius, the idiot I walked back in a literal fire for and the guy I swore my love and life for,” Kakashi takes in a breath, the little stutter stuck in his throat the indicator that he's not being a little shit like always.
“Thank you,” he says, simply, because Kakashi doesn't have the gift of many pretty words like him, but he does have the gift of saying the right thing.
“What for?” His joke sounds weak even to his ears. A little bit teary too.
“You're too great of a soul to be tied down, and an even more brilliant mind to be doing taxes and arguing with a spouse in a domestic setting. I know you're sacrificing a lot to do this, we both do, but I would just like to put it out there that I am so grateful you chose me out of all the eligible spouses out there. You're a gift, a godsend, a dream I thought I couldn't turn into reality, but here we are, your name in my clan and a ring and a wedding to prove that we come as a unit now and I just, I want to thank you.”
Kakashi swallows and looks right into his eye.
“Thank you for gifting me yourself in this marriage. Please have it that we are buried in the same grave when we unfortunately perish in a glorified explosion.”
Obito didn't think Kakashi has it in him to ramble, but here they are, surprises one after another.
“I,” gosh, where are his words, “have promised myself to you, unconditionally and undeniably.”
He seizes Kakashi's hand, spreading open his palm, rough and calloused from years of fighting, and gingerly lies a kiss onto his heart line.
“You asked me once, Kakashi, what would I choose between my life and love, while you're bleeding to near death in the middle of an arctic wasteland,” he smiles into the skin that loved him so tenderly, because he is not a mass of scars before this man, but a boy and a heart that loves and breathes before he is Obito of the Uchiha clan.
“My answer had been unsatisfying then, so let me remedy now. You are my life and love, and a gift that I can't thank you enough for promising to stay by myself, and if fate tears us apart, then I will fight it directly. Nothing can tear us apart, not now or ever.”
“Wow,” Kakashi echoes, seriously awed, “I was going to say a different thing, but yeah, wow, I'll take that.”
He laughs, turning the hand back and kissing the skin there.
“Let's not be our clans when we are with each other. You'll just be Kakashi and I'll be Obito. That's it, from now to ever.”
“I want to be able to say that without crying,” Kakashi confesses honestly and does a piss poor job of dodging the rush of tap water directed at his face when Obito kicked it into his eyes.
Mask dripping wet, he pulls the corner down, lips curling and that distracting mole dipping up and down as he leans in, as water rains in rainbow arches all around their hair.
“I'm going to kiss you now, Hatake Obito.”
“Oh, why don't you shut up.”