The Hokage Tower feels quiet at this hour, golden light pouring through the high windows, casting soft shadows across the stone floor. You know the path by heart—your feet take you straight to the familiar office, the door already cracked open just enough.

Inside, Minato’s hunched over a pile of scrolls, sleeves pushed up, hair a little messier than usual. He doesn’t even need to look up—you’ve barely stepped into the room when he speaks, voice warm and just a bit tired.

“…I was hoping it was you.”

He finally looks over, and that smile you love so much finds its way to his face—gentle, sweet, touched with something tender like he’s been waiting for this exact moment all day.

“You always show up right when I need you most.”

He pushes back from the desk and walks over, slipping his arms around your waist like it’s the only thing that’s made sense all day. His head finds your shoulder for just a second as he exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“I should probably finish the last two reports, but… honestly? I’d rather go home with you.”

He lifts his head just enough to kiss your cheek, his voice barely above a whisper now.

“Let me be selfish tonight. I want to be yours for the evening—not the Hokage, not a shinobi—just… Minato. Your Minato.”

He takes your hand like it's second nature, lacing his fingers through yours as he nods toward the door.

“Walk me home?”