The Routine

Authors Comments: This is my first time posting a story to any website. As I was filling out the warnings (Het, etc) I realized how much of the sexual world I am ignorant to, so I hope I labeled my warnings appropriately. If I didnt please feel free to comment and I will fix any mistakes I have made. I also wanted restate that I do not own anything related to Naruto. I only create stories based on the original Mange and Anime. The only claim I have is this story is my original creation, not copied or revised from anyone else's and the original characters I create for my stories are my own and should not be used by anyone without my express permission. One last thing, I have not been able to decide on a name for Yondaime, the Fourth Hokage, although I have seen the name Arashi used on several occassions I do not wish to copy someone else's idea. Therefore, Yondaime is referred to as such throughout the story until I come up with an appropriate name for him. If I have forgotten anything please feel free to comment and I hope you enjoy the story.
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Moiya’s eyes drifted opened when she heard the water running in the sink. She looked over at the clock before rolling off the bed and haphazardly making her way into the kitchen. It was 2:00 a.m. and Kakashi was rinsing a washcloth under the water, the blood spinning into the drain, then wiped the cool cloth across his face again, removing more of the semi-dried blood. He had looked worse, been in worse condition, but had always managed to make his way here instead of the infirmary at headquarters. He looked down at her almost surprised to see her at first then relaxed as she pulled the armor away from his forearms setting them down on the table behind her. Taking the cloth from him, she rinsed it again and set it aside on the counter next to his mask while Kakashi removed his gloves, looking down at his hands as if they weren’t his own. Moiya pushed him backwards until his legs hit the chair and he sat down, grunting at the ache in his side. It was like this whenever he returned from a solo mission. A routine they had somehow found themselves repeating quietly every so often.

She helped him remove the ‘anything but white’ Anbu vest, it smelled like vomit, blood and dirt all rolled into one stench that made her stomach turn slightly. Kakashi never spoke on nights like this preferring to let Moiya do what she felt she needed to do for him. What he found he needed from her, but would never admit. Moiya pulled out a box from the hall closet, setting it on the table next to Kakashi and began pulling out ointments and bandages. Looking him over, from his ragged hair that laid down over his forehead, down to his feet, noticing he had at least remembered to remove his shoes at the door, she decided to work her way up. She always thought Kakashi secretly liked this part of their routine, although he never showed it. When she finished searching his legs for injuries he automatically removed his shirt, moving more slowly when he felt the stabbing pain in his side. She examined every inch of him noticing the small twitches in his muscles when she touched something raw and sore, being sure not to miss anything. Except for the bruised ribs on his left side, the cuts on his arms and the gash on his head, it was all mostly grime that could be washed away.

Kakashi kept his eyes closed during the entire inspection, he was exhausted and wanted to drift off to sleep but flinched when Moiya reached his side, pressing on the his ribs gently, instinctively reaching for her hand to stop her. When she moved away he slid down in the chair slightly trying to fight off the urge to lay his head on the cool table. He could hear her down the hall, the rushing of the shower water, the cupboards opening and closing. Moiya brushed a fresh cool washcloth over his face stopping at his scarred eye and pressing down gently. Kakashi moaned at the coolness alleviating the burning behind the eyelid, reaching up and placing his hand over Moiya’s, he pressed down a little more. He knew what was coming next in their routine and didn’t hesitate when she pulled him up out of the chair grasping the cloth to his face. Somehow he stifled the sound he made when the hot water hit the gash on his head running down his back and chest right over his aching side, the stinging in the cuts on his arms when he lazily reached up to push back his hair.

It took a few minutes for the water to run clear after Kakashi finished scrubbing off the dried up blood and dirt and he stood leaning up against the tiled wall his eyes still shut tight. Moiya had tea set out when Kakashi returned to his place at the table, fresh clean cotton pants hanging loosely from his slender frame, a towel draped over his wet hair. It always surprised him how she managed to clean up the mess he made, his bloodied dirty uniform and armor gone, the blood he had dripped on the floor gone, the smell thankfully gone. Moiya pulled the towel away from his head and searched until she found the gash, cleaning it before pulling the edges together and placing a few small steri-strips over it to keep it closed before moving to the cuts on his arms. When she had finished spreading ointment over the cuts, wrapping them with bandages she made Kakashi stand up so she could examine his ribs more closely. It wasn’t often either of them spoke throughout the well rehearsed routine “You should consider letting the medical specialist heal this for you” she carefully prodded the bruise, feeling the ribs move slightly. Kakashi gasped lightly catching himself before cursing at the pain. Moiya stood staring at him for a moment, his eyes still closed, before putting her hand in the small of his back guiding him down the hall through the bedroom door. It was amazing how wonderful a set of cool clean sheets around your feet felt after several weeks dodging kunai. Kakashi stretched himself out tucking his feet around the sheets and blankets. The weight in his chest and the ache behind his sharingan seem to ease slightly as he let the world fall away into darkness. Moiya watched him until his muscles relaxed, smoothing out against his frame where they had once been etched with tension.

It had been this way since Yondaime’s death. He had taken on more missions, one after the other, losing teammates along the way, until he insisted they assign him solo missions only. Never once failing to keep his promise to his sensei, watching over, even protecting Moiya, although he knew from experience she was more than capable of taking care of herself. Moiya was no stranger to the type of mission he had returned from only hours ago, bloodied and aching, too exhausted for words. It was a similar mission that brought him to her the first time in the middle of the night. He had stood in the doorway for what seemed like an eternity watching her sleep, not even sure how or why he was there. Without questioning him she had cleaned and dressed his wounds, without arguing he had let her cover him with her blankets. A routine he began to look forward to at the end of the most difficult missions when he returned home colder than he should have felt. Neither of them speaking unless Kakashi’s wounds were more severe than Moiya could handle, like the cracked and bruised ribs tonight. It was nights like these that made Moiya’s heart ache the most, seeing the pain on his face, feeling it in her own heart, as she watched her dearest friend silently torture himself.

Guilt, she decided, was a disease. It didn’t surprise Moiya how little she knew of Hatake Kakashi, it wasn’t the details of his past that mattered to her, she knew his heart better than anyone in the village. They had been inseparable since the day they had met, spending their free time together, at first connected by Yondaime’s presence, then later connected by their friendship and grief. Kakashi couldn’t tell her he had been attracted to her the first time he set eyes on her small face, bright green eyes shining back at him. It wasn’t an emotion he understood then, thirteen and still aching over his friends death only months before. He couldn’t tell her that his feigned annoyance with her when she behaved more like the child he should have been at her age than the future shinobi he had already become, was meant to cover up for his unexpected emotional response to her smiles, her giggles, the dirty looks she threw his direction on occasion when she caught him staring at her. Although he better understood his emotions, especially on nights like tonight, even controlling them better than he had as a child, Kakashi had never been comfortable having them, much less expressing them.

It was his discomfort with these emotions, not the pain of his injuries, that made him sit quietly with his eyes closed so he wouldn’t have to look into her green eyes, at her face, as she moved around him trying to fix what was broken. What he couldn’t tell her was she had fixed more than his body on nights like these. Flinching as her fingers glided gently over his skin, her hair falling when she leaned over him brushing against his skin making his muscles tense. The deep breaths he took just so he could smell the sweet shampoo she used was a wonderful contrast to his stench. Moiya slid down beneath the sheets pulling the blankets up to her chin, stretching slightly to relieve some of the stress in her back, before rolling over to stare at the slow gentle rise and fall of Kakashi’s chest. It was almost hypnotic as her eyes became heavy and blurred, blinking to keep them focused on him for as long as she could. She wouldn’t tell him how much seeing him this way made her heart break or that she cried like a baby while he was in the shower trying desperately to regain control of her emotions.

Moiya closed her eyes listening to Kakashi’s breath, the only sound in the room next to her own breathing. She could feel the warmth of his body so close and yet so far away, like a fire in the cold space she couldn’t get close enough to. Even this had become part of the routine, this space between them, like the gentle unintentional brush of her hair on his skin, it was always there, like the warmth just inches away. The night Yondaime died Kakashi had held her hand tightly as she cried herself to sleep, even falling asleep with his back pressed against hers. Moiya couldn’t remember the last time he had held her hand, even to comfort her. The darkness was cold ’had she forgotten to close the window again?’ she thought as she drifted into a deep sleep.