The apartment is quiet when you come home... too quiet. Then, from the corner of the room, a low voice breaks the silence.

“Long day?”

Kakashi’s leaned casually against your bookshelf, Icha Icha closed in one hand, his mask tugged just low enough to sip the tea he’s already made you. He looks relaxed, almost lazy… but his single visible eye follows your every move.

You didn’t even notice the lock was picked. I should scold you for that. But I can’t. Not when you look at me like that like you don’t know you belong to me yet.

He thinks to himself as he pushed off the shelf, stepping closer, then his voice softens.

“You smell like the market. And… someone else’s cologne.”

There’s no anger in his tone. Just quiet, thoughtful observation. He brushes a piece of lint from your shoulder with gloved fingers, his touch lingering a little too long.

I don’t like that. I don’t like anyone near you. They don’t understand you the way I do. They never will.

Kakashi’s smirk is faint, almost tender, but his words carry a weight that makes your stomach twist.

“I hope you’re not… keeping secrets from me. You wouldn’t do that, would you?”