Chapter Text
Kakashi opened the door but was brusquely pushed aside as Naruto stormed into his apartment past him down the hallway.
“There's nothing you can say that I hadn't heard on the way over, so don't even bother!”
The older man was just about to insist he had no idea what Naruto was talking about until he noticed what the blond was wearing. The first thing was the giant white bow that rested at the small of the jinchuuriki’s back. Then the black skirt, fanning out prettily over the frills of a white petticoat underneath. Then the socks, thigh high and translucently black, with white frills wrapped around the widest part of Naruto's thighs. There was a gap between skirt and socks, where the younger man's tanned thighs were visible.
Kakashi cleared his throat, following his former student.
“Are you–”
“—wearing a maid outfit because I lost a stupid bet to Ino and Sakura, yes ,” Naruto grumbled with a sigh, turning around to collapse into Kakashi's couch, his skirt flouncing as he did so. He crossed his arms over his chest and scrunched his shoulders up, looking extremely petulant.
“But you–”
“—chose to walk across all of Konoha in this because I promised you I’d help out this weekend, also yes.” He huffed, blowing away blond strands of hair that had escaped the white, frilly headband he had traded his hitai-ate for. “I guess I should be glad you said your apartment and not the Hokage office this weekend. I don’t think I could stand to look Shikamaru in the eye,” he groaned and pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, leaning back into the couch.
“Well, I mostly needed to be home so I could clean up the apartment, actually,” Kakashi admitted. It was true. It had been weeks since he’d had time to properly be at home, caught up with the latest flurry of mission authorizations and diplomatic paperwork. Kakashi knew the apartment wasn’t a complete disaster (and in fact probably perfectly clean by the standards of many others), but there were just some chores he had been meaning to get to: laundry, sweeping and mopping, wiping down the kitchen, trying out a new shelving system for his sizable book collection. Actually, now that Naruto was here in that costume…
His eyes flickered over to Naruto’s. It seemed like the blond had acquired the power of mind reading, because realization quickly dawned on his bright, blue eyes. “You’re not…”
“Thinking that I should put my cute former student to task, after he’d put in all the effort to show up dressed so professionally for the occasion? Yes.”
Naruto nearly jumped out of his spot on the couch. “ Cute?” he squawked. “Seriously? In this?” He gestured with both hands to himself.
Now that he was standing and properly facing Kakashi, it gave the older man a chance to properly see the whole outfit.
The black dress was clearly tailored, hugging Naruto's surprisingly trim waist before flaring out at the hips. A pristine white apron covered the front, decorated with delicate lacework that spoke to either Ino or Sakura's attention to detail. The square neckline was modest but drew attention to Naruto's collarbones, usually hidden behind his typical high-collared jacket. A detached white collar with a black bowtie framed the man’s exposed and notably defined chest.
"Yes, in that," Kakashi replied, his voice a touch lower than intended. He found himself noticing things he'd never paid attention to before – like how Naruto's perpetually messy hair somehow looked intentionally tousled against the white frills of the headband, or how the outfit emphasized the athletic grace that years of training had given him. The contrast between the feminine costume and Naruto's masculine features created an oddly appealing effect that Kakashi was trying very hard not to analyze too deeply.
"If you're making fun of me, I swear I'll—" Naruto started to threaten, but words failed as Kakashi moved closer, reaching out to straighten one of the bows at his collar that had gotten twisted.
"I never say things I don't mean, Naruto. You should know that by now. You look quite good in a skirt like this; it’s surprising."
The blond’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, his previous threats now caught in his throat. His chest was quickly turning pink as a blush spread across his face and neck.
Interesting, Kakashi noted absently as he bent from his hips to better inspect and readjust the bowtie.
“Sensei, I—”
The silver-haired man leaned in toward the other man’s right ear. “I hardly think sensei is the right title right now—don’t you think you should be calling me ‘ Sir ’?” He was practically purring.
Kakashi had been expecting a hard shove, but it never came. He pulled away to find that Naruto’s eyes were nervous, trying very hard to focus on one spot on the ground as he breathed out through his mouth. His whole body trembled, his lacy gloved hands balled into fists at his side.
Whoops. He’d taken it too far.
“That time I was making fun of you,” he mumbled lamely. “Sorry.”
They awkwardly stood in Kakashi’s living room, neither of them saying a thing. Shit. How was Kakashi going to dig himself out of this hole?
But it was Naruto who broke the tension first. “I’m going to start with the bathroom!” He darted away down the hallway and disappeared, the door rattling shut behind him.
Now it was Kakashi’s turn to slump into his couch, pressing both palms right over his eyes.
What the fuck was that?
What the fuck was that?
Naruto was gripping the sides of Kakashi’s sink tightly, his shoulders hunched as he stared into the mirror. His face was flushed and his pupils were dilated, ocean-blue irises staring back at him with a wild, scattered frenzy.
Okay, calm down. Get it together, Naruto.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
It had been a stupid bet the night before, with him boasting that he could take home any civilian girl. His first attempt didn't work out. Despite his best attempts to charm her, she had apologetically informed him that she was actually waiting for her boyfriend to show up after his shift. The costume was his own fault too, as he had been the one to complain that the stakes of their dares and bets lately had gotten stale. Ino’s eyes had flashed with delight when she remembered, whispering in an evil, evil way to Sakura (that really should have set the alarm bells ringing in his head). All Naruto had caught was something about an unused costume from the year before.
“We get to dress you if you can’t,” Sakura had said, singsong.
Sure, he agreed, throwing back another shot. How bad could it be?
“And you have to wear it the whole day,” Ino trilled, in the same intonation as Sakura.
Sure, sure. Whatever.
It was only when he got a faceful of lace the next morning that he realized his error. They had all crashed at Ino’s after a night of clubbing and Naruto’s many failed attempts to go home with someone.
He pulled the clothing from his face and held it up with his thumbs and index fingers delicately, as if handling hazardous material.
“A maid costume, seriously?” He was a little disappointed in his friends’ lack of imagination. But Sakura and Ino tittered, clearly delighted with their shared joke.
“Well, you're going to be Hokage someday,” Sakura said, and it was then that Naruto noticed the knowing tone in her voice. He was clearly still missing some context. “It's important that you learn to be of service .”
Through Ino’s cackling, realization hit him.
Shit.
Today was the day he was supposed to be helping out Kakashi-sensei. He had been doing this two weekend days a month for the last few months now. The Rokudaime had been looking exhausted lately with all the responsibilities of being Hokage. Naruto had offered a helping hand, what with wanting to learn the tools of the trade, and suggested they meet at Kakashi's apartment to get out of the office. It had been a pleasant, easy arrangement and Naruto had begun to look forward to those mornings.
“You two remembered,” he accused, “that I’m supposed to meet with Kakashi-sensei today.” His eyes narrowed at his friends and they only cackled even more, falling over each other on Ino’s bed.
He had put it on begrudgingly in the bathroom, yelling through the door to work his last-ditch angles on getting out of it. It fit him surprisingly well despite the difference in size between him and the pale blonde kunoichi, but all he could think about was how mortified he was going to be when he showed up to Kakashi's apartment like some low budget escort. They had even provided him a bikini-cut set of panties to wear, black and lacy to go with the rest of the outfit. But he was running late as it was, so there was no time to think too hard about the consequences of his stupid late-night actions.
“Work hard for your pay, Naruto~! And no Sexy Jutsu!” they called out after him as he teetered down the stairs in kitten heels.
In truth, the walk over to Kakashi’s house wasn't that bad. Sure he got some wolf whistles and some insecure men and conservative old women shot him dirty looks of disgust, but mostly people ignored him, or raised an eyebrow. The village had become acclimated to Naruto’s prankster behavior from childhood, and it didn't surprise them that even in adulthood, he had the occasional oddity of a day.
But this was not how he expected the day to turn out. Now here in Kakashi’s bathroom, wearing a maid costume, heart racing.
Why was his heart still racing anyway? It wasn't like Kakashi hadn't teased him before; they'd known each other for years. But something about the way his former teacher's voice had dropped, the deliberate way he'd adjusted that bow. Naruto's fingers unconsciously touched the spot on his collar where Kakashi's hands had been.
Kakashi had clarified it was a bad joke and apologized, right? Shouldn’t that be the end of it?
Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Naruto clapped his whiskered cheeks with both hands before turning on the sink and splashing his face with water. Then he squatted down to open up the cupboard underneath, pulling out cleaning supplies. He knew there was a linen closet just outside the bathroom where he could grab some washrags. He would start by wiping down the surfaces in the bathroom and then make his way over to the kitchen.
Overthinking had never been Naruto’s strong suit and he wasn’t going to start now.
Back in the living room, Kakashi had just considered standing up to check in on Naruto when he heard the squeak of the faucet turning and the rummaging of cupboards. It seemed like Naruto had actually started to clean the bathroom. Kakashi turned to jelly in his seat, all sensation leaving his body.
The two men had developed a steady routine over the course of the last few months. Truthfully, Kakashi had been pleasantly surprised by the turn in their relationship. He had always privately worried that Naruto would one day resent him for his unskilled attempts to be a teacher in the younger man's genin days, coming to some inevitable realization about the Copy-nin’s faults as he gained experience. He had welcomed Naruto’s frequent stops by his office. It started with asking questions about the work of being a Hokage, and then soon enough Kakashi was handing the jinchuuriki paperwork to review himself and provide opinions for. It made the clerical tasks less arduous and the days more bearable. Something to look forward to, even. So when Naruto had suggested doing work from Kakashi’s home, he didn't think twice about it.
But now…now he was trying hard not to think twice about the throbbing sensation in his lower abdomen, or how enticing Naruto’s thick, muscular thighs looked in those see-through socks.
Trying, and failing.
Focus, Hatake. There was paperwork to be completed. He leaned forward to grab a thick stack from the cardboard box on his coffee table, clicking a pen as he did so.
The cloying smell of citrusy disinfectant emanated from the bathroom when the door clicked opened. Kakashi didn't look up when Naruto padded his way back to the living room.
“I'm going to work on the kitchen now.”
Kakashi gave a noncommittal grunt, his eyebrows furrowed on some particular line item in a department budget.
He felt a pang of guilt as he could feel Naruto linger, but he simply noted some marginalia and moved his way onto the next page. He didn't miss Naruto's huff when the younger man turned around with a swish of his skirt, and Kakashi's eyes darted over just in time to see a peek of the round curve that marked the bottom of a pert ass—
Budgets, Hatake. Focus.
Which he did, sort of. From Kakashi’s vantage point on the couch, he had a good view of the kitchen. Naruto was facing away from him and had started working on a modest pile of dishes in the kitchen sink. Naruto seemed to be absorbed in his task, humming some uneven tune over the sound of running water and the soft squish of sponge against ceramic.
Despite his not looking up at the jinchuuriki occupying his apartment (or perhaps because he wasn't), it didn't take long for Kakashi's attention to wander again, considering how intimate it felt to have Naruto doing something so…domestic. He couldn't remember the last time someone had been in his space, tidying up like that on his behalf. Not in his adulthood, certainly not in his pained adolescence. Faintly, he could recall the outline of his father's wildly white hair, tied back, and the man's broad shoulders. Could this become part of their routine? Kakashi quietly working on his kage responsibilities, sharing space with Naruto? He shook his head.
Okay, so maybe not looking was worse.
He looked up right as Naruto was reaching up to put away a glass high up on a shelf. Every muscle in the man's between his shoulders rippled, and Kakashi’s gaze trailed downward to find that the skirt had hiked up. He could see the thin vertical lines of a thigh garter, white and satin against the tan of thick thighs. Would Naruto's back or thighs blush as well, pressed against cotton bedsheets? He would probably look absolutely sinful with his face pressed into the mattress, lips parted as he turned his neck to look up at—
Nope, looking was definitely worse.
Kakashi cleared his throat. His grip on his pen tightened.
Budgets, Hatake!
Sure enough, Naruto had been able to take his mind off of the initial incident when he first arrived at Kakashi's apartment by immersing himself in good old manual labor. He had gotten so absorbed in drying each plate and bowl that he had forgotten about the stupid outfit, the earlier tension with Kakashi.
And it felt strangely nice, to be given full access to the older man's home, free rein to open every cabinet and pull out any shelf. Kakashi had yet to comment on his actions anyway. There wasn't anything particularly surprising anywhere—the former jounin lived about as spartan an existence as any shinobi of his generation—but he didn't miss how high quality everything was, and Naruto appreciated the opportunity to examine the mundane aspects of Kakashi's life. He found himself a little bothered by the particularly sparse set of cutlery. Not that he could claim any different, but it made him realize how often Kakashi must eat alone at home, a contrast to their late nights ordering takeout from Ichiraku at the office, where Naruto pointedly looked out the window while they slurped noodles, careful to give his masked former teacher his space. He had never stuck around long enough to eat dinner on this weekend work days, he realized.
Naruto slid the spring green towel he had been using to dry the dishes back through the handle of a nearby drawer. His heels clicked as he crossed the kitchen tile to the border where they met the living room hardwood. He leaned against the wooden casing that demarcated the open archway between the two rooms, resting his head against the paneling. He looked over to where the apartment’s occupant had been sitting.
Aside from some rustling, once when it seemed like Kakashi had gone to the bathroom, it seemed like the Hokage had not moved from his place on the sofa. More aware of attire than usual, Naruto observed how disarmingly casual Kakashi looked in his living room. In the office, he almost always wore the stiff, high collared vest of the updated jounin uniform and a red armband. At home, he wore a charcoal wool sweater and loose green sweatpants that ended at a taper at the ankle. The dog tag on his metal chain rested comfortably in the middle of his chest. One leg was bent at the knee and splayed outward, resting flat against the couch in a relaxed manner. The other leg extended more naturally, with the foot loosely skimming the floor. He was surrounded by paperwork arranged in methodical piles, seemingly engrossed in his work.
“Kakashi-sensei. I'm finished with the kitchen,” he announced awkwardly, mostly to break the longstanding silence that had settled over the apartment. Usually by this time in his visits, the two of them would be deep in administrative minutiae, discussing the merits of diplomatic solutions or puzzling over budget allocations together. The silence felt wrong, especially after months of comfortable rapport built across these work sessions.
Kakashi barely nodded his assent. He didn’t look up. And that really was starting to piss Naruto off. The blond had tried to shrug it off earlier when he had announced his move to the kitchen, but seeing it repeated an hour later sparked irritation. This was a far cry from their usual back-and-forth. Normally, Kakashi would at least throw in a dry joke about his former student’s cleaning skills and how far they had come since the genin days on D-rank missions.
For all of Kakashi’s display of a laidback demeanor, his muted response to the man in a freaking maid costume in his house came off as…mechanical. Too practiced. Naruto was extending an olive branch here, and it felt like the Rokudaime was turning his nose up at the gesture.
Fine. Be that way.
Naruto shot his former teacher a glare before shuffling down the hall. He wasn’t exactly sure where he was going, but when he spotted a neatly made bed, curiosity directed his steps.
The bedroom matched the rest of the apartment for the most part, at first mostly utilitarian at first glance. But as Naruto walked around the room, more details gave it a surprisingly personalized touch. Gentle, abstract watercolors hung above the bed. He recognized the potted plant, labeled Ukki-kun, from his childhood. He bent over and inspected its little leaves, glowing with pleasure that Kakashi had held onto that plant all of these years. His fingers grazed the picture frame of Team Minato, ultimately landing on the one of Team 7. Naruto smiled ruefully at the frustrated expression on his younger self’s face, fixated on glaring at Sasuke as Kakashi eye-smiled towards the camera.
He approached the nearby bookshelf, set into the wall. Even though the silver-haired man was only ever seen with romance novels in public, his private collection revealed much more varied interests: tomes of ancient shinobi history, naturalist guides to Fire Country’s local flora and fauna, novels in languages Naruto didn’t even recognize.
“Nerd,” he muttered fondly under his breath.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, closer to the bed, he spotted an unmistakable orange. Set distinct from the books on the shelves on the window was Kakashi’s Icha Icha collection. He took a handful of steps to cross over and picked up the distinct teal of Icha Icha Tactics, clearly worn and faded after years of rereading. Naruto flipped the book open and absently skimmed a few pages.
Hold on.
He turned back a page, this time each word carefully.
“It was wrong, Katsuragi scolded himself even as he furtively glanced at Sumiko’s ample bosom pouring out of the frills bordering her apron. Her sweet, bright eyes looked up at him innocently. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes to please you, Sir.’”
The light went on in Naruto’s head and he had to bite the back of his lace-gloved hand to hold back laughter, thrilled with the idea unfolding in his mind.
Bingo.
Kakashi had managed to lose himself in the footnotes of agricultural subsidies, the earlier awkwardness fading with each passing minute. The apartment had fallen into a comfortable quiet, broken only by the occasional sound of books being reshelved down the hall. He found himself relaxing into the peaceful domesticity of it all.
Maybe he'd overreacted earlier.
This was Naruto after all – the same knucklehead who'd probably laugh off anything too serious and punch his arm with a grin. And here Kakashi was, acting like a teenager caught with his first crush, avoiding eye contact and barely speaking. He really should apologize, especially since Naruto had still shown up to help despite the ridiculous outfit situation.
He set down his pen on his thigh, ready to get up and properly thank his former student for being such a good sport about everything. The words were already forming in his mind: a casual "Maa, about earlier..." followed by—
"Kakashi-sensei," came Naruto's voice, caramel-sweet in a way that made all the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "I hope you don't mind that I took my time exploring. Some things are worth savoring, wouldn't you agree?"
The footsteps approaching behind him were measured, deliberate. Different from Naruto's usual energetic bounce or even his grumpy storming from earlier. Kakashi's fingers twitched around his pen, suddenly hyper-aware of every small sound – the whisper of fabric, the click of heels against hardwood, the slight creak of the floorboard just behind the couch.
"Your collection is quite... extensive." Naruto's voice had dropped lower, intimate. "I had no idea you had such diverse tastes."
Something about the phrasing tickled at Kakashi's memory, but he forced himself to maintain his composure. "You didn’t have to go over the bookshelves," he managed, proud of how steady his voice came out.
“Mm, but how could I resist? When there’s an opportunity to explore a man’s innermost parts?”
He felt the soft brush of fingers along the curve where neck and shoulder met. Chills ran down his back. Kakashi felt clammy suddenly, his skin cold and tacky under his mask.
“Oh,” Naruto breathed, his voice high and light. “It seems like I’m not done with my cleaning tasks. You’ve got some dust here.”
The younger man circled the couch (not unlike a hawk honing in on its prey) and the many frills of the maid outfit were again in full view. Blue eyes peered at him, wide-eyed and innocent, and then suddenly they were too close as Naruto bent one knee on the couch and leaned in, slotting his other stockinged leg between Kakashi’s, gently pushing him back into the cushioned seat with just a few fingers on his chest. The petticoats and the black skirt fanned around them, covering Kakashi’s thighs.
Kakashi took a deep, shuddering breath.
Was he losing his fucking mind?
Naruto pouted, but the devious glint in those bright blue eyes was now unmistakable as he murmured, “I hope you’ll allow me to correct my mistake before I’m punished, Sir.”
The pen snapped in Kakashi’s grip.