Born Tomorrow
Born Tomorrow
Summary- He wasn't ready to be a lot of things. Too bad no one ever gave a damn.
Warnings- Anal,Lang,Mpreg,Oral,Yaoi. In no way follows canon. Sasuke is back.
AN- Written in response to a challenge posed by summerwind. This is just a prolog, so it’s really short and more of a teaser than anything. They won’t all be quite this short, although my goal is to make them relatively concise. I didn’t forget about this fic, I swear summerwind. I just have too many ideas floating around in my head. So glad you reminded me. You goaded my ass into gear.
Gah. Anyway. . .
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Prolog
Anger. That was the first emotion that hid him. Hard like a backhand to the jaw.
You don’t leave notes like that on people’s doors. It’s just not proper protocol.
Not that Kakashi was ever one for proper protocol, but other people were supposed to have some sense of it in order to compensate for his deficiency. And to leave the note unsigned, too. As if that would save his ass. He’d recognize that writing by principle alone: elegant, upright, and perfectly formed. The loops on the l’s were something new. Sort of like calligraphy.
The messenger wasn’t the writer. The writer was in the hospital and the messenger was a coward for not bothering to leave any other explanation. Unfortunate for the messenger when Kakashi managed to get a hold of him. Because you don’t leave notes like that pinned innocently to a door while the inhabitant of the house is on a long-term mission to Suna.
You just don’t.
That being said, Kakashi’s fist going through his front door was justified and not the least bit melodramatic or over the top. He told himself that as he plucked a splinter out of his thumb. The neighbors didn’t bat an eyelash. Over the past two years, they’d learned to ignore the strange noises that occasionally came from Kakashi’s humble abode. They were even kind enough to leave him a fire extinguisher for the mild explosions from experimental jutsus. And a cake, because Meme-san thought he looked too thin. The cake was greatly appreciated. The fire extinguisher had come in handy.
Kakashi wished he had cake at that moment. Cake might make him feel marginally better. Of course, smashing a fire extinguisher over the writer of the note’s head also held great appeal. Because, really, it was like he expected something out of Kakashi. Expected him to come running just because he said please.
Kakashi didn’t like being begged. It reminded him of people dying and how much easier it would have been if Sasuke had just died instead of sending him a note like this.
Back in Konoha. Hospital.
Come see me.
Please?
Kakashi didn’t actually believe the please. Or so he told himself. He believed that Sasuke knew how to get exactly what he wanted by now. He had a good teacher. Manipulative snake-bastard always got what he wanted, including Sasuke.
All Kakashi wanted was quiet. For once in his goddamned life, could someone pull the plug on the drama? Hadn’t he had enough by now, really?
If he could summon any sense of his nonexistent normalcy he’d march inside, pick up the phone he barely ever used and give a friend a ring. This had to warrant a phone call. Gai would be delighted. Genma would laugh at him for bitching (Because what else was he supposed to call it? Made him sound pre-menstrual) Asuma would have just asked what he was on. He had such wonderfully supportive friends. Pity he didn’t have a single one of their phone numbers.
Gai gave him his number of years ago, but Kakashi had no idea where that went. He probably slipped it between the pages of Icha Icha and lost it some time after that. He remembered getting a phone call from Gai right after Sasuke left for Sound. Gai might have been loud and too prosaic at times, but he was there when it counted. And he was sweet. Always had been.
Genma wrote his number on the back of his hand the first time they met. He’d washed it off as soon as he’d gotten home. It had seemed more unnerving back then.
Asuma’s number he probably had somewhere or another. A desk drawer, probably. The apartment was vacant now, however. He’d been dead for years. He hadn’t gone to the funeral. He figured that letting Kurenai cry on his shoulder later that night was enough. He hadn’t wanted to go, because he hated watching people cry, but Asuma would kick his ass in the afterlife if he hadn’t.
Who would kick his ass if he didn’t go see Sasuke today?
Naruto? Did he even care anymore? He was tight-lipped about it lately. Tsunade? Did her concern extend that far? She wasn’t obligated to care about everyone. She had her soft spots, but Kakashi was pretty sure her affection no longer extended to a Konoha defect.
Sasuke would be the one to kick his ass, most likely. And he could now. He really could, and probably would. He didn’t think the note would say please otherwise, insincerity aside.
Wasn’t that just his luck?
His hand felt like it hand a splinter in it.
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End AN Yay! It’s short, but it lives! Leave me some love. . .or at least a few scraps.